Marshal taps my arm. When I turn, I follow his line of vision and I see it. If I didn’t know better, and when I didn’t know better, I thought the object in the corner of the ceiling was a sprinkler head. Now I know better.
“What?” Ellen asks.
“I was going to wait for Jack,” I say, lowering my voice, “but there’s no harm in you knowing what I didn’t.” I don’t wait for Ellen to respond. “See that sprinkler head?” I point upward. “It’s a camera.”
Her eyes widen and her lips form an “O.”
“Yes, it recently came to my attention that my ex-fiancé has a thing for photographs.”
Ellen shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”
Marshal shrugs. “I suppose that’s your prerogative. I’ll just let you know that not all men are a fan of the bald look. Trim it. Tend it. Just give us something that says we’re not fucking a child.”
I almost added that we still didn’t know if she was a true blonde but refrained.
Small noises of shock come from her throat as she takes a step back and the door behind us opens.
“Ellen, I found—” Jackson staggers before his gaze meets mine. “What the fuck are you doing here, Samantha?”
“For the love of God, try saying Sami. It won’t kill you.”
He reaches for his phone. “Get out. I’ll call the police.”
“Your...” I turn to Ellen. “What exactly are you? His intern? His fuck toy? His girlfriend?”
“She’s my associate and you’re no longer anything, so this doesn’t concern you.”
“I bet it would concern Fred Wilson,” Marshal says. “He just happens to be friends with my boss, Jason McMann’s father. Shut up and listen to Sami, or Fred and Martha’s home will be our next stop.”
“This is none of your business, Michaels.”
I walk to the desk near the wall and pull out a small tablet embossed with the letterhead of the bed and breakfast along with a pen and hand them to Jackson. “I need you to write a note stating that neither my parents nor I owe you any compensation for any expenses related to our cancelled wedding. And be sure to sign your name.” I look to Ellen. “She can sign as a witness.”
“Why would I do that?”
I sense Marshal ready to pounce.
Instead, I look Jackson in the eye and relay the message my best friend gave me minutes earlier. “We know about your inclination to photography. We’ve already informed Ellen, but if you do as I say—write the note and leave my parents the hell alone, and I mean alone as in no contact ever—if you do, we’ll leave. However, if you don’t comply, I will take the pictures of Ellen and of you and Ellen to Fred Wilson. I doubt that fucking interns is part of the partnership program.”
“If you do, I’ll make the pictures of you public.”
“Go ahead and try,” Marshal says. “I did research. Michigan is one of the states with laws against revenge porn.”
“Misdemeanor,” Jackson says.
“No charge looks good for an attorney,” I say, “especially one who recently made partner. And then there’s the whole matter of photographing without consent.” I turn to Ellen. “I assume you signed a waiver before allowing Jackson to take photos?”
She’s standing taller, looking at my ex with venom that I understand. Ellen’s gaze narrows. “I have not.”
“Hmm,” I say. “What about the others, Jack? Do you have consent from all of them?” I emphasize the word all.
Marshal is leaning against the wall near one of the windows that is painted with the telltale greenish-blue paint. Before Jackson responds, Marshal speaks, “Sami, do you know all of their identities?”
“No.”
“I believe that law enforcement is better equipped to do that. They can do facial scans and—”
“How in the hell did you get your hands on any of the pictures?” Jackson asks.
It seems as though denial is no longer part of his plan. I would hesitate to tell him except I’ve saved every photo onto a flash drive. I spin around, taking in the room. “One time when we were here, you had to send an email, and instead of going out to the car to get your laptop, you used my computer.” I shrug. “You really should be more careful with your passwords.”
Jackson takes the paper and the pen and walks to the desk.
We all wait.
Finally, Jackson stands and hands the pen and paper to Ellen.
“Are you serious?” she asks.
“Sign the damn paper.”
Once she does, he comes close to me, pushing the paper my direction. “We’re done.”
As I take the paper, I can’t help but laugh.
Before I can say anything, Marshal reaches for my hand and tugs me toward the door. Speaking to me, he says, “You’re right, he is quick.”
“I was talking about something else, but yes.”
“Wait,” Ellen calls as Marshal is closing their door.
We stop.
“Could I get a ride back to Grand Rapids?”
“No,” we say in unison.
As we step outside into the warm summer air, I lift my face to the sun and inhale. Marshal’s arm comes around me and he pulls me to his chest. “I’m so in awe of you, Sami.”
“It feels good, liberating.” I lift the sheet of paper. “And my mom will be relieved.”
“I heard there’s a cute town with a windmill. Would you like to join me?”
“I would.”
Marshal
I see Miss Tits and Ass move to the treadmill next to mine. She’s hard to miss with her giant XL fake tits squeezed into a top that is probably a size too small. Hell, the way they’re bouncing, I’m half expecting them to spill out.
Instead of focusing on her, I concentrate on the music blaring through my earbuds, the increase of the incline on my course, and way the speed is picking up. My mind goes to Sami and the way she handled tiny-dick in Holland last weekend and the look of relief on Jean’s face when we went to their house for Sunday dinner.
Damn, Sami was kick-ass.
I know through the years there have been times I wanted to protect her, to save her from assholes like him. A grin comes to my lips as I recall one time in college that I was so certain this arrogant asshole—I can’t recall his name—was going to try to get to her, I kept guard all night.
In reality, I slept, but I did it while keeping her beside me.
It was the first time I willingly slept next to a woman. It was also the time I did it with no thoughts of sex on my mind. I was too consumed with kicking the guy’s ass if he showed up.
Times have changed.
It would have been easy for me to take care of Jackson the way I handled that guy in college. After I woke to Sami’s tears as she looked at his photo collection, I was willing. I’m definitely able. And I’d do jail time for her.
That isn’t what she wants or needs.
One of the parts of friendship that can be difficult is not stepping in, not taking care of shit for her, and allowing her to handle it in her own way. Yes, I encouraged her. Yes, I was beside her and ready to be her muscle if needed. And it worked. By simply being at her side, I had a ringside view of her knockout punch.