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I open my computer and sit down, hoping there isn't a mess. It's the usual stuff, meetings coming up, notifications, and then I see something from my dad. I open it and the first thing I see is photos. My stomach rolls. It's Heather, naked with two white guys and another woman. They look drunk, maybe high. In one of the photos, Heather is sandwiched between the two guys, her dark skin in contrast to the pair as she lets both the guys fuck her at the same time.
“Oh God,” Heather says behind me.
I turn, wondering how we can recover from this.
“What is that?” she asks.
“How could you?”
"How could I?" Her brows are raised, and something in my brain squeezes, like maybe I should tone down my questions. "What are you doing with those photos?"
“My dad. He’s going to release these if you don’t leave me. He says you’re a bad influence. When did you do this? Is this porn?”
Her lips thin even more and her nostrils flare. “You believe this is me?”
“It’s your face. I need an explanation. Maybe you were drugged, or kidnapped.”
Heather turns and heads to the bedroom. I follow, and a warning goes off in my head as I see how stiff her shoulder are. Maybe I’ve made a huge mistake. But if it wasn’t her in those photos…How could that be faked?
“Listen, we can come up with some story. Maybe something that will make you look not so bad.”
She spins, anger burning from her eyes. “Listen, Baxter, this isn’t going to work.”
Shock pulses through me like a wave hitting the beach. I want to double over. “It can work. Hundreds of people do sex work like porn. It will be okay.”
She turns, but before she does, I see the light in her eyes go out.
“Please, Heather. We can figure this out. Don’t go.”
This time when she turns, her eyes are like fire. “First off, you don’t believe me. Second, so what if I had done something like that? I can have sex with whomever I want.”
Her words are a knife to my heart. Is that all I’d been, just another sex partner? “But these guys, it’s two of them and it looks like porn. Did you do porn? What were you thinking?”
Heather just shakes her head. I see I’ve lost her. She doesn’t want to fight for us. Panic fills me. I don’t want her to leave.
"Wait, babe," I follow her, searching for a way to make this work but knowing I screwed up. "We can work this out."
“There is nothing to work out if you don’t believe me.”
Now it’s more than panic. I’ve screwed it all up. But I’d been freaked out. How could I have messed up everything so fast? We’d been flowing well, then those photos had been in my inbox, my dad threatening to release them. Her words “You believe this is me” came back to me. I had believed it was her. Why?
I closed my eyes, the image of her with both guys made me want to throw up. But had it really been her? And so what if it was? I hadn’t believed her.
“Heather, please don’t go.”
“There is nothing more to discuss.”
“But I can’t—”
“Can’t what? Lose me? You didn’t even have me. You were pretending this meant something.”
“It did—does.”
"No, Baxter, you were using me. You needed a fill-in, like in college."
“You were never a fill in.”
"Please Baxter, you never wrote to me or called me again. You walked out like I meant nothing, and now, your reaction to this, it's obvious I mean nothing to you now. I'm not someone special, or important, I'm a means to an end. You needed a convenient fiancé, and I worked in a pinch, just like back in California you needed a convenient therapist, and you picked me. Well, I'm done being your convenient woman."
