“Yes.”
“Stay put. I’m coming now.”
I give CeeCee the passcode for the front gate and disconnect the call. And then drag Reed into the living room, where I pace circles around the cavernous space as we await CeeCee’s arrival. Finally, CeeCee knocks on the front door. And the minute I fling it open, she barges into the room and blurts, “I sent advance copies of your Gates article to a few friends in the media, and we’ve caught two huge whales on our line! Both NPR and Good Morning America want to interview you about the Gates article, Georgina!”
“No!”
“Yes! You’ll do a radio interview with NPR on Monday morning in Philadelphia. Which is perfect timing because the article will be published online that same morning. From Philly, you’ll head straight to New York and do a nationally televised live interview on Good Morning America the following morning!”
I’m practically hyperventilating. “You’ll come with me to all of that, right?”
CeeCee laughs. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I look at Reed, feeling like a deer in headlights. “And you, too?”
Reed chuckles. “Of course I’m coming. And don’t worry. We’ll rearrange our trip itinerary to make everything work.”
CeeCee claps. “We have so much to do! I’ll set up a prep session with my PR woman, Jane. She and I will go over talking points with you for both interviews, and also get you camera-ready.” She looks me up and down. “Which, obviously, won’t be hard to do.” She slides into an armchair, a wide smile splitting her elegant face. “Now, listen, Georgie girl. I was going to tell you this tomorrow at the office—Margot and I were going to throw you a little party with a cake when I told you. But I’ve obviously got to tell you now: you’re officially a full-time writer for Dig a Little Deeper!”
I leap up from the couch, shrieking with joy. I hug CeeCee exuberantly, and then Reed, and then perform the most enthusiastic happy dance of my life, making Reed and CeeCee guffaw.
“Holy shit, guys,” Reed says, looking down at his phone. “When it rains, it pours. I just got a text from Isabel. She’s read the Gates article and wants me to tell Georgina she found it ‘deeply moving and inspiring.’” He reads, “‘After some soul-searching, I reached out to the women Georgina listed for me. I’ve now met with several of them and decided I can’t stay quiet any longer. Let the chips fall where they may. I’m ready to tell the truth. And so are they.’”
“Oh my freaking God,” I breathe.
Reed continues reading, “‘We’re going to consult a lawyer, and then give statements to the police. After that, we’ve all agreed we’re going to do one, exclusive interview, as a group. Please ask CeeCee Rafael if she wants the exclusive. I don’t want to text her, or anyone else. This is highly confidential, and I only trust you. Delete this message right after you get it. I’m sending it from a burner phone.’”
“Tell her yes!” CeeCee shrieks. “Tell her I’m sitting here now, and that I say yes!”
Reed begins tapping away on his phone, while CeeCee looks at me, astonished.
“You’re a miracle worker!” CeeCee says. “The Woman with the Midas Touch!”
“Okay,” Reed says. “I told Isabel you’re one hundred percent in, CeeCee.” He looks at me. “Isabel wanted me to tell you she’s proud of you for coming forward about Gates. She says she wouldn’t have made this decision if it weren’t for that article.”
I feel electrified. On the verge of tears. “Tell her I’m proud of her, too. Tell her we’re not enemies. We’re sisters.” Tears well in my eyes. “Tell her she’s more of a superhero now, than if she played one in forty movies.”
Reed pats his thigh. “Come here, little kitty.”
I go to him, on the bitter cusp of bawling, and he wraps his strong arms around me. “The Intrepid Reporter strikes again,” he coos. “I’m so proud of you.”
I nuzzle my face into Reed’s neck and inhale his musky scent, somehow, still managing to keep it together. But when I look down at my mother’s wedding band on my hand, a tsunami of emotion slams into me. Pride. Relief. Longing for my mother to be here to see this. But, mostly, I feel a deep-seated certainty that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.
Reed touches my mother’s ring on my splayed hand. “She’d be so proud of you,” he whispers. “She’s watching over you right now and cheering you on.”
“I can feel her,” I squeak out. And that’s it. I can’t keep my emotions at bay any longer. I squeeze my beautiful Reed with all my might, nuzzle into his chest, and give myself permission to sob.
Chapter 35
Georgina
When my article about Gates and his enablers went live three days ago, early Monday morning, my phone lit up like crazy, and my father told me the reaction in our hometown community was like an atomic bomb had gone off. But I was already in Philadelphia by then for my radio interview with NPR that same day, so I ignored my phone and social media, choosing instead to focus on not sounding like a clown on live national radio.
Luckily, my NPR interview went fabulously well. Better than expected. But, right after that, Reed took me, CeeCee, and CeeCee’s PR woman, Jane, to lunch to celebrate, followed by whisking us off to Manhattan. So, again, I didn’t have a chance to focus too much on whatever the world was saying about Gates and my article and me.
But once Reed and I got settled into our penthouse suite overlooking Central Park, and CeeCee and Jane came over, we finally looked, as a group, at the world’s reaction to the story. And that’s when we realized the story of Gates, the high school football coach who was secretly a sexual predator, was rapidly becoming high-profile national news.
One major news outlet called the story “a sexual assault scandal” and summarized it this way: “Three female former students at a California high school allege the school’s football coach sexually assaulted them, and also that the school’s principal, and a wealthy parent, actively covered for him.” I thought that summed it up nicely.
Luckily, according to the vast majority of online commentary, it seemed most people believed Katrina, Penny, and me, and wanted swift justice for Gates and anyone who’d covered for him. On social media, people were sharing the story like crazy, as part of several lines of discussion. One of them about the intersection between sexual assault and sports-hero worship. Another one focused on women often being scared to speak truth to power, for fear of being called a liar or slut. I felt heartened to read all of those discussions. Frankly, I felt immensely proud.
But it wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns. In one line of general discussion, people lamented the ability, in the age of social media, for any “disgruntled” or “unhinged” woman to say “anything she wants” about any “innocent man,” thereby unjustifiably ruining his life, without due process. Fair enough. I think, generally speaking, we can all agree that’s a true statement, in concept. But, when people went so far as to specifically call Katrina, Penny, and me “fame-seekers,” “opportunists,” and “liars,” that pissed me off.