Private Relations (14 page)

Chapter 23

Lauren Peters lived with her parents in three-story Colonial not far from downtown New Hope. I rang the doorbell, hoping that she might answer the door herself.

No such luck. I got her father instead.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“Mr. Peters? My name is Jesse Lockhart, and I work with Victory & Associates in New York City. We’re currently working with New Hope Academy in addressing the alleged incident between a teacher and a student that was uncovered recently.”

“Yes, I’m well-aware of the incident. I’m sorry, you said your name was…?”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card. He took it into his hand, scanned it through skeptical eyes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lockhart?”

“I have reason to believe that your daughter Lauren may have some information about the case,” I said. “May I come in?”

“I’m sorry, when you say information…?”

“She’s not accused of doing anything wrong. I’d just like to ask her a few questions, if that’s all right with you. You can your wife are welcome to stay. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes, tops.”

A few seconds passed before stepped aside and let me enter. He ushered me into the living room, where none other than Lauren herself was watching TV. She looked up, gave me a brief glance, then turned her attention back to an episode of
The Vampire Diaries
.

“Lauren, can we have a minute?”

“Dad, it’s winter break. Can’t this wait?”

“I’m surprised you still watch this show at all,” I said. “I mean, once Damon and Elena got together, it got pretty boring. Plus, Caroline belongs with Tyler, not Klaus.”

Lauren dropped the remote in surprise. “You watch
The Vampire Diaries?
Aren’t you, like, a little old?”

“Ouch,” I teased. “Listen, as much as I’d love to discuss TV, I’m actually here for another reason. I’d like to talk about your relationship with Drake, if that’s OK with you.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and groaned. There was nothing to discuss, she said. Everyone knew that he and Simone were having sex, and now Simone was going to get fired and leave the Academy for good. Not that any of it really mattered, she added. They’d all be graduating in the spring.

“Very true,” I said. “But what I’m curious about is who tipped off the Academy that Drake and Simone were having sex in the first place.”

“Why do you want to know that?” she asked.

“Because my gut feeling tells me it was you.”

Mr. Peters moved in before Lauren could answer. He stood between the two of us, his back towards Lauren while his finger pointed just inches away from my face. I had no right to accuse her of anything, he said. Furthermore, I had no proof.

“Mr. Peters, I think that your daughter and Drake were dating before he and Simone started having sex. I think that Lauren cared about him. And, if I’m correct, I think Lauren is the one who told the administration about Drake and Simone, because she
knew
what was happening between the two of them was wrong.”

Mr. Peters turned to face his daughter. Her face -- glassy hazel eyes, quivering pink lips -- showed me I was right. The “little bitch” that Simone had referred to wasn’t me. It was Lauren, the girl who’d won Drake’s heart before it was stolen by an older woman.

Lauren turned off the TV and told her father he didn’t have to protect her. I was right. She and Drake had been dating, until he broke up with her in favor of having sex with Simone. She was angry, hurt. More than anything, she wanted revenge.

“I never knew it was going to turn into all of this,” she said. “But you don’t understand! Simone is legit bad news.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. “I hate to say this, but Drake still seems pretty fond of her.”

“He changed so much after they started screwing,” Lauren continued. “The way he acted, the things he said. He was
never
like that before.”

“So what happened? What made him start acting differently?”

“Simone started giving him drugs.”

*
    
*
    
*

If Lauren was right about Simone providing Drake with drugs, that made things both better and worse. Better in the sense that I now had additional evidence against her, evidence that could land her in jail for certain. Yet it was also worse in the sense that Drake, all of seventeen years old, had been experimenting with everything from marijuana to cocaine.

Had Simone used drugs to tempt Drake into sleeping with her? Make him agreeable? Or provide him with a reason to keep coming back for more? Sex and drugs were an addictive mix -- even more so for a teenager.

Lauren’s parents were both home now: Mr. Peters, the dutiful husband, an accountant with his own thriving practice in nearby Newtown, Pennsylvania. The wife was a stay-at-home mother with a home-based business selling candles and other handmade trinkets over the internet. Nice couple, big house, with a beautiful daughter to boot.

“I’m sorry, what exactly are you doing here in New Hope?” Mrs. Peters was blunt, a sharp shooter where her husband was more subdued.

“I’m helping the Academy deal with the negative publicity surrounding this ordeal,” I explained. “And, hopefully, making sure this incident doesn’t spin out of control.”

“I’d say it’s already out of control!” Mrs. Peters turned to face her daughter, shook her head in disapproval. “And Lauren, how could you not tell anyone?”

“Tell anyone what?” Lauren scoffed. “It’s not like anyone would believe me, anyway. Everyone loved Simone. She was… she had a real
life
outside the Academy. She did stuff. Her artwork, I mean.”

“When did you first learn that she was giving Drake drugs?” I asked her. “Do you remember?”

“We were chatting about it.

“Facebook? Twitter?”

Lauren looked at me like I was a complete moron. “It was over snapchat. Which means I don’t have the logs anymore.”

“Right. Of course.”

Mr. Peters cleared his throat and said, “Can someone explain to me what snapchat is?”

“Long story short, it means that whatever Lauren and Drake talked about is no longer available,” I replied. “Think of it as a twenty-first-century version of a paper shredder.”

Lauren folded her arms across her chest and asked if she could leave. I understood her frustration. After all, what was I really providing her besides a never-ending series of questions that weren’t bringing her closer to the one thing she wanted most?

“Lauren,” I continued, “I’ll be honest with you. I want Simone out of the Academy as much as you do. Not because I miss Drake, but because it’s my job. I do my job, I get paid, and I get to go back to New York City.”

“Yeah, so?” she said.

“But before I get that fat check and buy an Amtrak ticket home, I need your help. Is there anything you can give me to help my case? Any solid proof that shows that Simone was giving Drake drugs?”

“You mean like photos or something?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. It was a clue that I’d struck a nerve of some sort. For Drake’s sake, I hoped there wasn’t a YouTube video of him snorting lines off Simone’s tits or dropping acid while naked in her bed.

“Yes, photos or videos would be best.” I leaned in, waited for her reply, as did Mr. and Mrs. Peters. It wasn’t my first time working with teens and parents, and it never ceased to amaze me how little some parents knew about their kids’ lives.

Then again, were my folks any different?

“Drake said that…” Lauren trailed off, torn between doing what was right and the feeling that she was betraying a friend.

“Honey, please,” Mr. Peters said. “Tell us what you know.”

“All of a sudden, Drake started bringing weed to parties. Well, weed and other stuff. Pills, stuff like that. People asked him where he got it, but he wouldn’t tell us. He never did any of this stuff before he started fucking Simone.”

“Lauren!” Mrs. Peters cried.

“Put two and two together,” Lauren said. “Drake was getting that stuff from Simone. I don’t have any photos but I
know
it was hers.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a lead. A bit more digging, a few more hours sleuthing on and offline, and I might have enough evidence to have Simone terminated from the Academy. Perhaps even arrested and charged with drug possession and corruption of a minor.

“Thank you, Lauren. You’ve helped a lot.” I gathered my things and asked Mr. and Mrs. Peters for a moment of their time before I left. We moved into the foyer, where I put on my coat and gave them a rundown of what I felt would come next.

“I appreciate you letting me talk to your daughter,” I said. “Please, don’t tell anyone I was here or that I’m trying to gather evidence against Simone.”

“Why?” Mr. Peters asked. “Isn’t that your job?”

“My job is to make sure the Academy comes out of this intact. I’ll do what I have to in order to make that happen. The more anonymity I have, the better.”

Mrs. Peters was about to interject, but her husband cut her off. He took my business card out of his pocket and told me they would be in touch if Lauren thought of anything else. I added that she could contact me directly if she wished -- but under no circumstances could she share what I was up to with her friends.

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Mr. Peters promised. “And thank you for your time. We were very upset to learn this happened, and that the administration kept it hidden for so long.”

“That’s usually what they do,” I said. “Keep the cat in the bag until it finally claws its way out.”

I walked out the front door and made my way back to downtown New Hope. I imagined Lauren alone in her room, iPad or iPhone in-hand, sharing the news that some random guy from New York City was asking her questions about Simone and Drake. By telling her to stay quiet, I all but assured she would do the opposite.

She probably thought she was being a rebel. On the contrary, I wanted her to tell as many of her friends as possible.

Chapter 24

It’s not much, but it’s a lead.”

Kurt was less optimistic about my progress. Without solid photographic evidence, we had nothing on Simone, and weren’t any closer to getting her to resign on her own accord. We sat in a quiet corner at a nearby bar, a pitcher of beer and two empty mugs before us.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do this, Jesse. But the Academy is terrified of David writing about them in
Manhattan
magazine. From there, the
Times
or the
Journal
could pick up the story. Hell, the
TODAY
show might run something, too.”

“I’m getting closer; I can feel it. All I need is more time.”

Kurt poured himself a glass of beer and took a long drink. He relented, but said we needed solid progress by the end of the week. If not, the Academy was tempted to settle with Simone and wash their hands clean of this ordeal once and for all.

“Settle?” I asked. “Meaning they’ll pay her to go away?”

“It’s not ideal, but…”

“No, it’s not ideal. It’s fucking bullshit, is what it is. Look, you think a female teacher having sex with a male student is a victimless crime? Fine. But pumping him full of drugs along the way is a crime no matter how you spin it.”

Once again I’d let my emotions get the better of me. I took a breath, apologized, then poured myself a glass of beer. What I needed was something to either scare Simone into leaving, or a Christmas miracle that would convince Drake to confess all. Neither looked likely at this point.

“How are you holding up?” Kurt asked.

“Fine,” I lied. “This isn’t the first sex-scandal we’ve worked on. I doubt it’ll be the last, either.”

“True, but you didn’t have a personal connection to any of our past cases, either. You know I was fifty-fifty about letting you work on this case, anyway.”

“Yes, I know. Then again, I doubt the Academy would have agreed to pay you that fat retainer fee if I wasn’t on-board. Seeing how I’m an alumnus and all.”

“Touché.”

I took a pen out of my pocket and began jotting notes on a napkin: next steps, a rough timeline of who I wanted to speak to and when I would make contact. Part of me couldn’t help but feel I should give Drake another try, but judging from our last encounter, I didn’t think I would get far.
If only I could show him the error of his ways.

“What are you thinking? You only write on napkins when something’s popped into your head.”

“We need Drake’s help,” I said. “He must have something that can help us implicate Simone. But he’ll die before he gives her up.”

“He thinks he’s in love.”

“Oh, please. Like he’s her first?”

“You think this is a pattern for her?” Kurt said.

“Could be. Who’s to say she hasn’t done this type of thing before? I mean, do grown women start sleeping with teenage boys out of the blue, or…?”

“It would certainly help our cause if she screwed around in the past.”

My mind drifted back to my time with Bobby, specifically when I began to wonder if there’d been any other young men in his past before me. He’d sworn that I was the only one, that he couldn’t think of being with anyone else at the time. I’d believed him, and saw no proof that hinted otherwise.

“So, we break Drake’s heart, turn him against Simone? And that wins our case? Brutal, but probably effective.”

“Sounds like you’re about to go into research mode,” Kurt said. “What are
 
you hoping to find?”

“Anything that brings me closer to the truth. If what Lauren said is true, Simone has to have fucked up in the past. It’s just a matter of finding out when and where.”

*
   
 
*
    
*

On paper, Simone Martin had the kind of life most people dreamed about.

She was born to an American mother and a French-Canadian father, who raised their beautiful only child in upstate New York, with summertime excursions to Montreal and greater Quebec. By the time she was sixteen, she was already modeling in Montreal, where local fashion designers loved to drape her in their latest creations both on and off the runway. She attended college at McGill University, majoring in Fine Arts and Economics, and used her connections in the fashion industry to segue into the art world.

Her ambitions, however, never seemed to come to fruition.

No fault of her own
, I thought. The art world was notoriously vicious, especially for women. Like many other industries, they often played second fiddle to the men, if not dismissed outright no matter how talented they were.

A series of teaching jobs followed, with only moderate success in the art world. No feature stories in any national publications, and not much of an online footprint either. After stints in Los Angeles and Paris, she’d found her way to Philadelphia, and somehow took a position at New Hope Academy thereafter.

Surely she couldn’t be commuting from Center City Philadelphia to New Hope each day? That was twenty miles each way, at least. Or was she trying to carve a niche for herself in New Hope’s long-established art community, perhaps with an eye for returning to the big city a few years later?

It was just after eight o’clock. I watched a sliver of moonlight ripple off the surface of the Delaware River from my hotel room, where I’d been researching Simone’s life for the past two hours. Part of me wanted to quit working, maybe give Logan a call and enjoy a night out.

I heard a knock on my hotel room door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. It was probably just Kurt, eager to check in for the evening before we turned in. How many other crises had we been through over the years? The end-of-night check-in was a rite of passage of sorts. Fortunately, I had good news to share.

I opened the door and found Bobby standing in the hall. I sighed, completely surprised but frustrated nonetheless.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.

“An update on the case would be nice. Haven’t you read any of my emails?”

“It’s been a busy afternoon. A few new developments, some decent leads. With any luck we’ll be able to wrap this up by New Year’s and I can go home.”

“Can I come in?”

I let him enter, knowing he probably wanted nothing more than an honest-to-goodness update on Drake.

“Nice room. That boss of yours takes good care of his employees when they’re on the road.”

“His name’s Kurt. And yes, he’s been good to me since we started working together. So, I assume you’re here about Drake?”

“Is there something I should know?”

I weighed the pros and cons of telling Bobby everything I knew thus far, including Lauren’s allegations that Simone had supplied Drake with drugs. A little marijuana was one thing -- Drake had probably smoked weed before he’d met Simone -- but pills, cocaine and God knows what else were another matter entirely.

“I spoke with Lauren Peters this afternoon,” I began. “She had some useful information for me. I’ll be following up on some leads tomorrow.”

“What kind of information?”

“Hopefully, information that will bring us one step closer to getting Simone out of Drake’s life for good. That’s all I can say for now.”

“You’re hiding something,” Bobby said. “I can see it on your face.”

“Don’t start,” I pleaded. “Not tonight of all nights.”

Bobby opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped. In just five words, I revealed that I held onto a piece of our history that he probably would have liked to forget. For on this same night ten years ago, I told Bobby that he and I were over. It hurt at the time, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Bobby said. “I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing that you do.”

“Come on, Bobby. There was no ‘happily ever after’ for us. We wouldn’t have worked. The sooner Drake realizes the same thing about him and Simone, the better off he’ll be.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“That Simone is using Drake to make herself feel desirable? Yes, I do.”

“No, not that. Do you honestly believe that Simone and I are alike?”

I threw up my arms and let them fall atop my thighs. I opened the door and asked Bobby to leave, adding that I’d send him a recap email within the hour. He rushed forward, kicked the door shut and threw me against the wall.

“I am
nothing
like her!” he said.

“Well if you’re nothing like her, why do you get so fucking angry when I claim that you are? My comparison hitting a little too close to home?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“At least you never used drugs,” I said, shoving Bobby hard against the chest. “According to Lauren Peters, Simone did. The quicker I find proof, the quicker I can get her arrested and terminated from the Academy permanently.”

“Drugs?” Bobby whispered.

I nodded. “Weed, probably some prescription pills, too. Lauren said Drake started sharing the wealth, so to speak, with other students at the Academy. He didn’t reveal his source, but take a wild guess who Lauren thinks it is.”

The color drained from Bobby’s face. He sat on the foot of the bed, buried his face in his hands. He remained there, and after a few moments, his shoulders began to shake. He whispered “no” over and over again, his voice somewhere between a plea and a sob. This wasn’t like him. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“My father…”

“What?”

“My father was a drug addict!” Bobby said. “It destroyed him. He lost everything. The house, my mother and I. She worked two jobs to keep a roof over my head and food on the table.”

In all our time together, Bobby had rarely spoken of his upbringing. As far as I’d known, he’d had a picture-perfect upbringing in suburban Chicago before attending Villanova University on Philadelphia’s tony Main Line. But his father? A drug addict who’d lost everything, including his own family?

“Addiction is genetic, you know,” Bobby added. “If Drake somehow inherited what my father had, this could be…”

“I won’t let that happen,” I said. “I’m close, Bobby. All I need is for one of Lauren’s friends to come forward with some proof, and we’re set. Hell, maybe you can talk to his parents, so we can go through his computer and find it for ourselves.”

“They already did that. Didn’t find anything.”

“Well maybe they didn’t look hard enough. Trust me, I’ve worked plenty of cases in the past. Things have a way of turning up.”

“Did you talk to Simone at all?”

“This afternoon,” I said. “She’s a real ray of sunshine.”

“More like a narcissistic bitch.”

It was a fairly accurate description. I sat on the bed beside Bobby, rested my hand atop his. I’d had my hesitations about this case -- but seeing him like this, I was certain of one thing: He deeply cared about Drake, and he was counting on me to make sure that Simone got out of his life forever.

“Well, we’ve come full circle, haven’t we?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“It looks like you’re the teacher now. I’m in your hands.”

I looked down and saw that my hand will still clasped over his. Heat emanated from my palm and warmed his flesh, even more so when I linked my fingers into his. He looked into my eyes, shivered when my thumb brushed his lower lip and my palm cupped his face. By the time I leaned in and kissed him, he actually gasped in surprise.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I have no idea.”

What the
hell
was I doing? Had being back in New Hope caused me to mentally retard to the age of sixteen? Did I still harbor feeling for Bobby -- feelings I’d buried so deep over the past ten years, only to have them resurface when he and I were finally reunited, face-to-face?

Bobby didn’t waste any time. He moved in, took my face into his hands and pressed his mouth against mine. How long had it been since I’d felt the burn of a man’s stubble against my face? I relished the splendid scratch of it, all but surrendering as he laid me on my back.

“Well, this is déjà vu all over again,” I said.

“Do you want to stop?”

I thought about it. “No. Keep going. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Definitely not…”

Bobby kissed my forehead, cheeks, and finally my lips. He dragged his tongue along my throat and bit down on the lobe of my right ear. I could feel his cock straining against the denim of his jeans as it brushed against my inner thigh. Yet at no point did I feel I was any way younger, weaker. We were equals now -- and if anything I was the one who had the advantage.

After all, I’d been having sex professionally for seven years.

I slipped off my shirt, brought Bobby’s head down to my chest. He nuzzled my chest hair and pressed a trail of kisses along my collarbone before moving up to my throat. I wrapped my legs around his waist, bucked my hips against his groin. I could feel his hot breath against the skin beneath my ear, a spot as delicate now as it was ten years ago.

“Wait,” I said. “Fuck. We can’t do this.”