Hours later, Adrienne was freshly showered and sitting in her bed with her laptop open and her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose. She yawned as she clicked on the last email message of the evening that opened in a new window. Confused by what she was seeing at first, she clicked to enlarge the screen. It was a blurry photo, startling in its familiarity, that made her breath catch in her throat when it came into focus. Her eyes darted away from it in shame as she scanned the body of the email, her lips moving as she read each word.
Greetings!
I must share bad news. I’ve recently acquired a series of scandalous photographs of you from several years ago from a like-minded friend on the internet. After a reverse image search, I was delighted to discover your identity, as well as your well-documented and celebrated career in the public education sector.
I’ve attached one of the tamer photos to prove to you this is not an idle threat. The remaining photos in the series are much more graphic. Your face is recognizable. You appear naked in the series with the exception of a string of black pearls around your neck.
Unfortunately, in light of your recent appointment as the Superintendent of Aura Cove Community Schools, having these photos shared publicly would result in a scandal that could be detrimental to your career. I would assume we are united in our mission to keep these photos private.
Let’s resolve this dilemma in the following way:
You must transfer .25 bitcoin to my account below (bitcoin equivalent based on the exchange rate during your transfer), and after the transaction is successful, I will proceed to delete all the photos permanently and without delay.
Send to bitcoin wallet: 1B5ic9iPpyadTEfWxWM4Xq6PkzbickrL4g1
If you doubt my serious intentions, remember it only takes a couple of mouse clicks to share these photos with your friends, relatives, and colleagues. I have the contact information of Dr. McGrath and the rest of the school board, as well as the closest news outlets to you. I truly believe you would not want this to occur, as it would decimate your career in education. You have seventy-two hours to comply with my request before I make them public.
Adrienne’s fingers trembled as she closed the vile window. It was a futile protective measure and accomplished nothing. The photograph had already seared itself into her consciousness. Its impact was indelible; once seen, it was impossible to forget, and a pit of dread formed in her stomach. Through hot tears, Adrienne pulled up her bank accounts to learn she had just enough savings to consider paying off her blackmailer. She’d scrimped and saved for years, and the twelve-thousand-dollar balance had been earmarked to pay for a trip to Bali to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. After reading Eat, Pray, Love she’d been tucking a little bit of money away every year, longing for a life-changing experience in the rainforests of Bali. Now, the balance in the account offered a different type of life-changing experience. It could be used to erase a terrible mistake she’d made in her youth and secure her future.
Panic swelled as Adrienne opened the email again and enlarged the photo of herself. She was so young and naive in it. Wracking her brain, she tried to recall the photographer’s name. Was it Darren something?
“Think!” She said frustrated as she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. Looking at the photograph, she felt dirty. Registering a glimpse of one nipple through the pearls made her face flush hot with shame. Her heart hammered in her chest as she jumped up and paced the length of the floor next to her bed. Her drowsiness completely dissolved as panic flooded in.
She’d relegated the failed photoshoot to the far recesses of her mind for decades and now struggled to recall the details. There was a swath of time at the studio she couldn’t account for. She remembered his offer to include her in the jewelry campaign, and then her next foggy memory was sitting on the bus, then trying to sneak into her darkened home.
When she climbed in through the window, her mother was seated on her bed waiting and she’d been grounded for two months. Under constant surveillance, and more desperate than ever, she still held out hope the modeling portfolio would be her ticket to the life she wanted. It took several weeks for Adrienne to find an opportunity to call the number on the card she’d squirreled away in a secret pocket of her backpack. When she discovered it had been disconnected, it was a sucker punch. Unable to believe he’d disappeared, she skipped out during a sleepover and traveled back to the studio, only to see it was vacant with a FOR LEASE sign in the window. He had evaporated into thin air along with her dream of being discovered, and she felt like an idiot.
Unable to stop herself, Adrienne clicked on the photo again, looking for clues, and the visual unlocked a memory. His clammy fingers on her skin, the smooth pearls cold against her breasts. Sickened by the memory, she rushed to the bathroom and vomited. Kneeling on the cold porcelain, she trembled and retched until her stomach was completely empty.
Adrienne stumbled back to her bed, spent and trembling. In the darkness, sleep was elusive as her thoughts spiraled down, drowning her in a sea of guilt and shame. For two hours, Adrienne agonized over the decision to get her sister involved. Having no other recourse, she finally pulled out her phone and dialed. An annoyed Davina answered on the second ring, with a tone that wasn’t the practiced professional one she’d adopted for the courtroom. Instead, it was disjointed and edged with exhaustion.
“Davina.” Adrienne breathed into the silence that lingered, emphasizing the wall that always felt insurmountable between them. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I need your help.”
After a loud sigh, Davina cleared her throat. “What’s going on?”
“Can you come over?”
“Adrienne, it’s late. Can’t you just give me the cliff notes version over the phone?”
“This is really difficult, but I’ll try.” Adrienne’s thoughts raced as she tried to figure out the place to begin. Knowing Davina was direct and appreciated a factual approach, she went right to the heart of it. “I’m being blackmailed.”
“What? You? The squeaky clean high school principal? That’s absurd.”
“Someone obtained compromising photos of me and is threatening to send them to the school board if I don’t pay.”
“It’s probably some whack job lying to you. Ignore it.”
“I can’t. He sent a photo.” She shuddered. “It’s obvious, it’s me.”
“How in the hell did he get it?”
“It’s kind of a long story. I had some headshots taken and…” Her voice cracked in shame. Hot tears gathered at her lashes and she balled her hands into fists, determined to get through the rest of the conversation. “I…” She started again and was unable to continue the explanation. “Can you please… I just need…” A choked cry she tried to keep locked away finally escaped, and Davina’s exasperation morphed into genuine concern.
“I’m on my way.”
Thirty minutes later, Davina was sitting in her living room reading the message on Adrienne’s computer. “My God, how old were you?” In shock, she enlarged the photo, trying to get an objective opinion on whether her sister was recognizable in it. With a heavy sigh, she immediately closed it down, unable to look at it any longer.
“Fifteen.” Adrienne’s eyes loomed large in her face. She wrung her hands in her lap, wanting to reach out to Davina to squeeze her hand but fearing rejection.
“This crosses the line. We need to report this scumbag.” Davina was disgusted. “I want you to start at the beginning and tell me everything.” She pulled out her phone and waved it in the air. “Are you comfortable with me recording this conversation so I can review it later?”
“I’m a huge fan of anything that spares me the need to repeat this story ever again.” Adrienne offered her a pained smile as Davina pressed play on the recording app and slid her phone closer.
“Tell me what you remember.”
“A man approached me at the mall one day. He handed me his business card and asked if I’d ever thought about becoming a model.” She pursed her lips. “You know how obsessed I was with fashion back then.”
“Were you?” Davina’s question highlighted their disconnect in a way that was a sucker punch to Adrienne. “I don’t remember that.” Her ambivalence caused a lump to form in Adrienne’s throat.
Davina cocked her head to the side, studying her sister as if she were a stranger. Glancing around her home, she saw the stack of fashion magazines on the coffee table. At the door, a trench coat and red pumps reinforced the notion.
“It’s okay. You were busy with your own life, starting college, and focused on your future.” Davina nodded and avoided eye contact for a long moment, acknowledging her statement. Adrienne reached out to squeeze her forearm. “I don’t blame you for not paying attention.”
Clearing her throat, Davina swallowed hard and continued, “Then what happened?”
“He offered to take test shots for my portfolio and told me about his connections with modeling agencies. There was talk of sending me on go-sees, and he dropped a few names of newly discovered models that, in my teenage brain, legitimized his claims. He even showed me the cover of a magazine with one of his photographs on it. I thought he was the real deal.”
Davina muttered a slurry of curse words under her breath while she listened.
“Hearing myself now, I get it, but back then, I wanted out from under Mom’s thumb so bad. I thought he was my ticket out of Bradenton and into the big-time.” She paused, remembering the thrill and how validated she felt when she’d been approached.
“Did Mom know?”
“Of course not,” Adrienne cried. “She didn’t understand. She would have never let me go.”
“For good reason,” Davina muttered, then quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. That was unnecessary.”
“Do you remember how hovering and controlling she was?”
Davina nodded. “I do.”
“Did you ever want something so much you were willing to do whatever it took to get it?” Adrienne whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears.
Davina pursed her lips considering the question, then shook her head no. “I’m not built that way. I’m all the way on the other side of the spectrum, self-protective to a fault.” Her admission increased the isolation Adrienne felt. Completely oblivious to her lack of empathy, Davina yawned into a balled fist. “We need to stay on task. I have an early start tomorrow.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. How did you get to the studio?”
“I lied to Mom and said I had a study group, but that night, I took the bus.”
“By yourself? That was dangerous.”
“I thought I was being resourceful.”
“Ah, the ignorance of youth,” Davina added.
“When I got there, I was so nervous,” Adrienne whispered. “I remember seeing the rack of bathing suits in the dressing room and panicking. I was intimidated and didn’t want to seem like a child. The photographer realized I was rattled and offered me a Coke. Then added some whiskey to help calm my nerves.”
“Jesus.” Davina pressed her palms to her face, scrubbing it in frustration.
“He told me Jules Chamberlin needed it, too. I wanted to be a model so bad; I knew if I could just overcome the jitters, I’d be golden.” She gulped then continued. “We did some portfolio shots, and then he said he’d just been approached by a luxury jeweler who was looking for a fresh face and offered me the opportunity to test for it. I was so green, totally out of my depth, I would have agreed to anything just to have the chance to live my dream.” The childish desperation she’d felt at the time was a distant memory. “I didn’t think it through.”
“You were incapacitated. There is no way you could give consent in the state he put you in.”
“He showed me the pearls and, after a second drink, I agreed. I don’t remember much after that.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “It’s all a blur of sound and sensation, murky memories where I thought something might have happened, but I couldn't prove it. The details were fuzzy.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Now, I know he violated me.” She waved one hand at the screen. “It’s right there in black and white,” Adrienne cried. She was shell-shocked as her mind scrambled to piece together the fragmented events of the night.
“Who was the photographer? We have to start there. If we can find him, he can lead us to the extortionist.”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I can’t remember. I think the name of the studio was Vogue something.” Her recollection of the events that happened and the days after was muddled. “He disappeared and I was too ashamed and confused to try to find him.”
“Forward me his emails and any future correspondence you receive from him.”
“I think I should just pay it,” she said. “If he follows through, my career is over. There is a morality clause in my contract.”
“No,” Davina said. “You pay it and he will keep coming back for more. Ignore him. Nine times out of ten, these bastards are on a fishing expedition. He’s trying to intimidate you into complying with his demands. Do not respond.”
“What happens if he follows through and leaks them?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Davina dismissed her concerns. “You’re an accomplished administrator. If push comes to shove, your impeccable professional record will serve you well. Besides, this event happened when you were a minor. You cannot be punished or held responsible for an illegal act that occurred when you were underage.”
“But the superintendent is an elected position. The board can call for my dismissal.”
“Do not respond,” Davina insisted. “He’ll go away. Trust me.” She stood and Adrienne followed her to the door. With one hand on the handle, she abruptly turned around. “I meant to call you more after Mom died.”
“I know. You’ve always had good intentions,” Adrienne said, not as a dig, but an observation, yet Davina recoiled from the statement as though it hurt.
“I’ll do better.”
“I’d like that,” Adrienne said softly, giving her an awkward hug that involved a lot of pats on the back as if to say ‘Okay, I’m done now.’ Davina offered her a tight smile and then walked away as she locked the door. Adrienne lay in bed but didn’t sleep a wink, dragging herself to work with the sunrise, wondering if this week would be her last at Aura Cove High School.