27. Scott #2
“Francis did that to help you. So you’d get your head out of your ass.
Now, come on. You can’t tell me you weren’t appalled by the shit they get up to.
The drugs, the sex parties. Was there any part of it you weren’t disgusted by?
Or did you like it and that’s why you’re upset they tossed you out on your ass? ”
“I don’t know what they got up to before I got hired. Cory and Tad are the only ones who were around back then. They’re all pretty chill now.”
Curtis throws his head back with a frustrated groan. “Bullshit. You can’t tell me these guys, who have been the epitome of the sex, drugs, and rock and roll lifestyle, are all just sitting around doing crosswords and knitting.”
“Crochet, actually.”
“Okay, we’re done here,” he stands.
“What?”
“You’re not ready. Not for the truth, not for revenge, and damn sure not for what’s coming. This has been a fucking waste of my time.”
I jump up next to him and throw up my hands. “I’m the one who took an overnight bus all the way to New York City just to meet with a stranger who won’t tell me anything useful but expects me to tell him about shit that didn’t happen.”
“You know why I’m in New York instead of back home in Florida?
Because those libtard little shits got too big for their britches and thought they could take me down.
Well, guess what? I’m fucking invincible.
You know why? Because I know everybody’s secrets.
All the dirty laundry, from drug-fueled yacht parties to underage prostitution.
I know every single politician, heir, and celebrity’s name that stepped foot on that island or had their name redacted from that list. Un-fucking-touchable,” he says, poking me in the chest with each syllable.
I stare at the slimiest man I’ve ever met, looking for any sign that he’s lying. His eyes are wild and excited, his chest is puffed up, his posture proud. Either he truly believes his own bullshit, or he’s telling the truth. He knows things, and he’s protecting those lies.
“You’re telling me that Jesse, Will, Ari, and Naz are all as bad as that. You’re telling me they’re on that list?”
He dodges the question. “I’m telling you they’re not good people and protecting them isn’t going to help you or stop them from going down. If you play your cards right, you might get something out of their fall.”
“I need to see some kind of proof, man. I can’t just go along with something like this if I don’t know they deserve it.”
“You don’t think they deserve it for what they did to you?”
I don’t answer. Curtis rolls his eyes and plops back down on the bench. “Francis said you were a bit of a pushover and holding onto some idea that Naz Lester loves you. Well, how about you take a look at this?”
Curtis pulls his phone from his pocket, blocks the screen from me while he unlocks it and opens a password-protected file. He hands it to me, and my mouth drops open.
I scroll through page after page of newspaper clippings, handwritten letters, typed statements, and photos.
Curtis Howard has an entire dossier of what he claims to be evidence that he has spent a lot of time building.
Some of the photos I’ve seen before, Jesse in the years before he got help.
Either by himself or with his bandmates, or other celebrities.
Most of it is Jesse from those years, and none of it is flattering.
The rest of it is what you’d expect from drug and alcohol-fueled parties: stupid pranks, passing out in places they shouldn’t, their arms around different men and women.
There’s more than one where they were definitely having sex, but I don’t think these photos ever made it public.
There’s a lot more that is bullshit. Alleged proof that they murdered some poor girl who was a victim of one of their satanic gang bangs, followed by several missing posters. Pictures of children the band supposedly drank blood from, and the contracts they used to buy their parent’s silence.
The problem is that there’s enough truth mixed in with the fake stuff that makes some of it look credible unless you know better. It’s certainly enough to convince a lot of people to think twice about sending their daughters to a LIM concert ever again.
Curtis reaches over and starts scrolling for me. I guess I’m not reading fast enough for him. “This was taken recently,” he says.
It’s a picture of Jesse and Naz sitting at a table in a club. Naz is leaning back, head on the back of the booth, head turned towards Jesse. They’re laughing about something.
“Look closer,” Curtis whispers far too close to my ear, his rancid breath making me recoil.
I look back at the photo, searching for more than just Naz’s carefree, laughing face.
I look closer at the table and see another guy.
From the angle the photo was taken, you can only see a sliver of his bare back, but what you can see clearly enough is the top of the guy’s head.
He’s face first in Naz’s crotch. Naz’s tattooed fingers are gripping the back of the stranger’s head.
For a moment, I can feel those fingers on the back of my head, gripping my hair, moving me up and down his shaft. The way his nails scrape over my scalp, sending goosebumps down my body. The way he fills my throat with every thrust of his hips.
Tossing the phone back at Curtis, I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
“I’m sorry, man. But it’s better you know the truth now. That guy is probably the biggest whore of them all. He’s just quieter about it. Then again, you know what he’s like. I guess everyone does now,” he chuckles. “You didn’t think that was just for you, did you?”
Swallowing, I stand and wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts.
“I need some time. To think. I can’t… process this. I just can’t do this right now.”
“I’ll be around for two more days. My case is being dropped tomorrow, and then I plan to do a little celebrating. Let me know if you’d like to tag along. Or just get in touch whenever. Don’t wait too long, though. The clock’s ticking.”
“How long?” I ask, not bothering to hide the worry in my expression.
“Maybe a month, tops. Things are already in motion.”
With that, I turn on my heel and jog out of the park. I can’t stand to be near that guy any longer. I need a scalding hot shower, hotter even than Naz takes. And maybe a wire brush to scrub my skin with.
I make it out of the park and two blocks down before my phone rings.
Unknown Number Calling
I shut my phone off and keep running.