50 Kimmy
The loft was quiet except for the rhythm of rain against the windows.
It was that kind of rain, just heavy enough to flatten the world outside into a watercolor of city lights. I sat on the edge of the couch, knees pulled to my chest, an iPad balanced across them like a tray of explosives.
There wasn't much to do in the safe house except for waiting for Seven, eating leftovers, munching on my favorite coconut candy, healing my body partially wrecked by Valmont and partially wrecked by mind-blowing sex with Seven. And doomscrolling.
I picked doomscrolling.
Seven had left yesterday in the morning. He'd kissed me like he was going to war right before he walked out the door. He'd taken the pendant with him, and I expected the news about Valmont to break any second now.
The iPad loaded the news with a jittery, blue-white glare that made the entire space feel colder. The first headline was a punch to the gut.
brEAKING: Celine Valmont Files for Divorce, Accuses Husband of Infidelity
I thumbed the screen so hard I almost dented it. There was a blurry paparazzi shot of Celine Valmont, her eyes red and her hair in that perfect little spiral, leaving some building along with her lawyer. The text below was a swarm of legalese, a jumble of words all mashed together.
The article was from yesterday. Somehow, in my lonely post-sex craze that I'd spent getting myself off to the images of naked Seven in my head, I'd missed the news.
But today, I wasn't that horny anymore. So, I shifted my gears to different activities.
I skimmed the article quickly, searching for information mostly about Caius Valmont.
There were no details. Just the mention of infidelity.
I wondered if this was all that was going to be covered in the media.
That pissed me off. I hadn't gotten shit kicked out of me just to have this bullshit published online.
I wanted for everyone, the entire world to see who the man was.
I doomscrolled for another hour or two, then took a break to stretch and call Katrina to check in on her house situation and to ensure Mom's plants were getting the attention they needed. And the stray cats too.
"Everything is A-okay here," Katrina chirped on the line. "Jazz is handling the insurance and we've already ordered furniture replacement.”
"Great. I'm sorry this happened."
"Why are you apologizing, sis? You make it sound like it's your fault."
It was my fault. All of it. "It must be a hassle."
"That's why I have Jazz."
"I'm glad he is helping. And Mom's plants?"
"Neighbors are keeping an eye on her place." Katrina was much closer with Margaret. My sister was always the first one to come to the rescue when Mom needed help. They didn't believe I'd remember to tend to Mom's garden and feed the street cats while she was in the Bahamas.
"Thanks. I gotta go."
I was about to hang up when my sister said, "Is there something you're not telling me?"
I played dumb. "What do you mean?"
"About the so-called Mom's vacation?"
"I really don't know what you're trying to say."
"It was pretty convenient for that ticket to materialize out of thin air and so quickly."
"My boss is an airhead. She mixed up the dates. I didn't want it to go to waste. I don't know what kind of explanation you're expecting."
"You've been really weird lately."
"Whatever." I needed to for this conversation to end. I couldn't let her continue with this suspicion. I had no way to explain any of this. Especially if she brought up her vandalized house situation.
"What's your friend's name? The one who's handling her case?"
"You know what?" I went on the offensive. "Just say you don't trust me instead of going in circles and coming up with some ridiculous ideas." Please don't be mad. I'm only protecting you.
"That's not what I mean. And you know it. You've distanced yourself from us. We have no idea what you're doing and what kind of people you're associating yourself with. We're all worried about you. Why don't you talk to us. We are your family."
This stung. I wished I could have explained. "I gotta go. I have to finish my work." I hung up, feeling wound up and irritated.
I worked out with the weights Seven had stashed in one of the closets, then returned to my iPad to check the news.
That's when the headline popped up, much louder than the ones I saw earlier.
EXCLUSIVE: Watch Video of Caius Valmont Assaulting a Woman
I froze.
My thumb hovered over the play button. My other hand was locked white-knuckled around the side of the iPad.
I didn't breathe. Terror shot through me.
My sisters and mother will see this for sure.
This isn't some minor scandal. This will be huge.
I only hoped they wouldn't guess the woman was me.
No, they couldn't. My face wasn't in the frame. But my voice…
I felt my pulse in my teeth and the tremor in my body.
I wondered if I'd done the right thing—getting involved with Valmont again.
I waited a full sixty seconds before finally tapping the play icon.
The video took its time to load, buffering, spinning, mocking me.
Then it started. The camera angle was low and shaky at first, then it righted itself, replaying everything that has happened in that room from my point of view.
Thankfully, my voice had been modulated and Valmont's dick had been pixelated too when he pulled it out of his pants.
The video cut out the moment someone entered the room, ending with his face slacked and in shock.
It was a perfect still of a man caught in the act.
I watched the whole thing twice just to make sure nothing gave me away. Nothing did. My voice sounded like a robot. I had no distinct beauty marks on my arms and legs. It could have been any woman.
For the first time in days, I exhaled, really exhaled. My lungs burned from the effort and from letting all this disgust and darkness out. I set the iPad down on the couch and ran both hands through my hair, squeezing the roots until it hurt.
He can't touch me anymore, I told myself.
But my hands were still shaking. The old panic was there, just running a new script. I knew I wasn't okay and probably wouldn't be for a while because what I'd bought was against my very nature. But eventually, everything would right itself. It had to.
I picked up the iPad again and scanned the comments section beneath the article. It was a flood of outrage.
What a monster.
Burn in hell, Caius!
Guess his wife finally grew a spine.
Hope he rots in jail.
Fucking rich people think they can do whatever.
Hypocrite!
This girl took a beating. Hope she's okay.
I started to feel lighter, maybe even hopeful.
I scrolled through the feed for another ten minutes, watching as the whole city—or at least its loudest corner—turned on Valmont.
There were memes already, cartoon renderings of him in an orange jumpsuit, Photoshops of Celine popping champagne.
One GIF had a slow zoom on the bloodstain on Valmont's shirt, followed by a snarky banner that read Don't Drink and Dominate, Kids!
It was the dumbest thing I'd ever seen, but I laughed so hard I started coughing.
I caught myself before it turned into a real breakdown. I set the iPad aside and stood up, knees weak, hands tingling. I went to the window and pressed my forehead against the cold glass, looking down at the rows of traffic crawling beneath the rain.
Somewhere out there, my mother was rushing to get as much tan as she could before she had to leave the Bahamas, unaware of the media inferno or my own private war.
I pulled out my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and checked the calendar. She was due back in a couple of days. I needed to think of how and who would pick her up.
I moved away from the window and set my phone on the coffee table and instead grabbed the burner that reached Seven.
I wanted to hear his voice.
I tried to talk myself out of it.
I failed.
Then I dialed his number.
He picked up right away.
I waited, listening to the static on the line. I pictured him somewhere dark, maybe in the garage, maybe sitting in his car watching the rain like I was.
He didn't say anything but I heard his breath.
"Hey," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "When are you coming back?" I hated how desperate I sounded.
He waited another beat before answering. "Are you safe?"
"Yes." I just miss you.
"Good." His tone was cool and flat. Nothing like the man who'd spend the other night in bed with me. It hurt a little.
"I saw the news," I said.
"That was the deal, wasn't it?"
I squeezed the phone, felt my pulse in every joint. "Maybe I should go back to my place."
A long pause. I could hear the rain through his line.
"Not yet," he said. "Need to tie up some loose ends."
"What kind of loose ends?"
"I need to make sure Valmont's hunting dogs stop their pursuit."
"And my mom?"
"Just waiting for all the evidence of foul play. Don't worry."
"Can I help?"
"No."
"It's just lonely here." And I feel useless.
"I know. And I'm sorry, but if you don't stay inside for the time being, I'll be worrying about you too much and it'll distract me from finishing up this job. Besides, your body needs to recover. You're still weak."
"My physical state didn't seem to be an issue the other night," I quipped just to see if it set him off, then added a low whisper, "You didn't mind being a little rough when you were inside me."
I heard the change in the quality of his breath.
"Kimmy—"
"I'm fine," I rushed to speak up before he misunderstood the intention behind my words. “I liked it.”
Pause. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
My throat closed up. I wanted to ask him more questions, about what we would do after all this was over. I wanted to demand to know if he was in danger, or if he missed me at all, even a little.
Instead, I said, "Okay."
Then there was silence, and I was convinced he was about to end the call.
His voice changed, turning soft. "Just wait a little bit longer, Ponytail. Okay? It's not quite safe yet. Target's hired guns are still following me, and I don't want to put you in danger anymore. I just can't. I will kill if someone lays a finger on you again."
My whole body went hot. "Okay."
"I'll see you soon," he whispered and hung up.
I held the burner to my ear for a full minute after, listening to the silence.
When I finally set it down, my hands weren't shaking anymore.