But the next morning, as she slept in my bed next to me, the anger started to simmer again. I watched her fragile little shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and I imagined those same shoulders shaking with sobs. Because of him.
My phone was on the bedside table, and I picked it up carefully so I wouldn’t wake her. It was easy enough to find him online. Scrolling back through his ConnectMe history took a while, but I eventually found some references to Daisy. I clicked on a post from Joanie Hartfield and switched to her profile.
Joanie’s references were much more overt. I always knew the girl was a bitch, but I never imagined she could be so downright evil. She’d posted a slew of nasty comments, jokes, made a website, a Picturebook account, all to torture someone who had never done a thing to her. A lot of the content had been removed, but there was enough for me to know that Joanie, too, deserved to have her ass kicked.
I felt almost guilty when I went to a search engine and typed in Daisy’s name. I knew she wouldn’t want me to see what they did to her, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.
Someone obviously went to a lot of trouble to get the pictures removed from the Internet. It was a full ten minutes before I came across one. Her body was pixelated out, thank God, but I felt sick, knowing it hadn’t always been that way. Her face broke my heart. Her head was half turned toward the camera, her eyes wide, the remains of a smile on her mouth. I got the feeling she’d been laughing about something before being caught unexpected by the camera. She looked surprised, as though she’d been interrupted in a happy moment.
I knew that I had to do something. If I didn’t, the anger would build up until I really did kill him. Besides, I needed to make sure that the pictures really were sealed, inaccessible. That they could never hurt her again. So, ill advised though it may have been, I booked a ticket to go home.
I found Justin enjoying a liquid lunch at a local restaurant with a bunch of his douchebag friends. At first, I thought I’d be able to get out of there without violence. His eyes got pretty big at the sight of me, so he knew why I was there. That, if anything, made me even angrier. He agreed to join me in a private booth to talk, where I told him in no uncertain terms that I now had more money than God, and if the pictures of Daisy ever got out, I would make it my mission in life to make sure that his children’s children continued to pay for it. He nodded, silent and sweating.
“And just so we’re clear,” I added, leaning across the table. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I hope you rot in hell.”
“Hey, man,” he said, holding up his hands. “It all just got out of hand.”
“You think taking pictures of someone without their permission is out of hand?” I snarled. “And then distributing them without her consent? Are you fucking kidding me?”
His face went red. “Hey, she was into it, too. It’s not like I forced her.”
“Watch what you fucking say right now, man.”
He scowled. “Just ’cause you’re pissed that I got some of the ass you always wanted and didn’t get, it doesn’t mean she didn’t want to be there with me.”
I lost it.
I don’t regret jumping him, but I do wish I would have checked to make sure his asshole friends weren’t capturing it on their cell phones.
The officers told me he was hospitalized, necessitating the arrest, but I’m calling bullshit on that one. Okay, I might have broken his nose, but the bastard will be fine.
“Mr. Ransome, your lawyer is here.”
I look up to see the officer who had booked me standing in front of the holding cell. I bite back a groan. If my lawyer is here, I’ll bet anything my dad is with him. I know I have to face the music eventually, but I was hoping that eventuality could wait until morning.
I’m led to a small conference room where a tall man in a suit—the lawyer, I assume—is sitting at the table. Instead of my father, Reed is there. They stand as I enter the room.
I stop just inside the doorway, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to help your ass,” Reed says, scowling, “which is totally not what I feel like doing tonight, by the way. So your thanks is appreciated.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just… I wasn’t expecting you. Thanks for coming.”
The lawyer holds out his hand. “John Dwyer. I’m on retainer with your record label.”
I raise my eyebrows. “The record label keeps criminal lawyers on retainer?”
Reed shakes his head at me.
I hold out a hand to John. “Uh, thanks for coming. I’m Daltrey Ransome.”