“Those laws are in place to protect victims.” Bowers’ answer had been so matter-of-fact that I’d nearly missed the meaning of his words.
“Are you saying I’m not a victim? That a man who used a pass key to come into my apartment uninvited and didn’t take no for an answer isn’t in trouble for what he did? He violated me. He violated Louisiana law.”
“You may well be a victim, Ms. Long. But a case against such a high-profile defendant would subject a woman like you to two trials. One in the court and one in the court of public opinion. Mr. Collins has a reputation to protect, and he’ll go all out to do so.”
“Is that what he told you during your interview?”
“I want you to have all the facts before you make a decision,” he said, ignoring the fact that I’d come here because I had already made a decision.
I’d worked in New Day’s PR department. I knew exactly the kind of access Collins had to the press. Politic’s American of the year, cable news’ face of modern Christianity, the filler of a five-thousand-person sanctuary.
He was the right hand of God and I was a Jezebel there to tempt him. He’d turn his “indiscretion” into the biggest public relations coup ever. He’d cry. His wife would cry. Mascara would run. She and her cherubic-faced children would stand by him.
I’d be the bastard child of an oil man turned pastor trying to bring down the second coming of Jesus Christ.
Wilted. Defeated. I stood and walked out of the room. A few minutes later, Daddy followed me. We stood in the hall for a long time surrounded by ringing phones and clacking keyboards. Without a word, he wrapped a hand around my upper arm. Before I could piece together his intention, he was frog-marching me out of the automatic doors and back into his Cadillac.
“I don’t think police and court thing is a good idea anymore,” Daddy said with his right hand fisted around the gearshift once we were in the vehicle, its automatic locks engaged.
I didn’t speak because I already knew any decisions were no longer mine.
Daddy jerked the car from park to drive.
“This needs to be settled man to man.”
His foot punched the gas so hard I could smell the rubber of the tires left on the pavement behind us.
“Where are we going?” I asked though I suspected I already knew the answer.
“To talk to Seth Collins.”
Talking wasn’t my father’s strong suit. My heart sped up when the likely meaning of his words came through.
“Are you going to shoot him? Daddy?” His nonresponse scared me. “Don’t shoot him!”
I was no stranger to firearms. I can’t remember a time that Daddy wasn’t taking me or Michelle to the backyard to shoot cans from the fence, and later to the range. He was a master of the tight grouping.
“If I were going to do that, I wouldn’t have you in the car. It would be another Ken McElroy. I’d take him out to the woods and no one would ever see him again.”
The way he said it made me think he wasn’t kidding.
“Then what?” I asked while gripping the “oh shit” handle above my window.
“Talk.”
We sped through the night, weaving in and out of cars that still had Rudolph noses on their grills.
If I was eating these days, I’d have thrown up. Between my dad’s crazy, erratic driving and thoughts about what could happen, I wanted to be anywhere but where we stopped: in front of the house Collins shared with his wife and kids who were clueless about what was to befall them.
There was still a life-sized manger out front, a huge Christmas tree the church members had held a lighting ceremony for, and little white twinkling lights everywhere. It was bucolic, everyone’s fantasy of a church pastor and loving family man’s holiday decorations.
My father didn’t bother with the driveway; he skidded right onto the Collinses’ lush lawn. That was going to leave a mark that would have tongues wagging by Sunday. Something told me I would never be back in the sanctuary of New Day to see any of that.
Daddy yanked open the passenger door and had his hand on my upper arm again. I’d barely gotten a chance to unbuckle myself before he’d hauled me out.
“You’re hurting me,” I said. My plea fell on deaf ears. Once again, he frog-marched me to a different door. Daddy only let me go so that his fist could pound on the red painted wood. The unseen brass fittings on the other side of the door rattled in response.
When no one answered, Daddy pounded again, harder this time.
“Coming!” It was a woman’s voice. I recognized Seth’s wife before she opened the door, toddler on her hip. If I didn’t know her personally, Rosalee Collins would have been interchangeable with my own sister. Blond, petite, eternally endearing face. Not quite beauty pageant material, but doll cute. I’d never been that.
“Can I help you?” She tilted her head at my father in faint recognition. Then she focused on me. “Nicole? Seth didn’t mention you were coming by. Is there an emer—”
“I need to speak with your husband,” my father interrupted.
“Seth’s in the family room,” Rosalee said. “The Mavericks are playing the Pistons.”
I had no idea if my dad had been in the house before or if he was following the sound of the television, but in less than a minute we were in a room with a huge projection TV. Collins was yelling about a referee’s call on a foul. The score was fifty to forty-nine. The winner wasn’t a forgone conclusion.
“You got a kid in here?” my father bellowed.
Collins jumped from the leather recliner he’d been occupying. Always shrewd at assessing situations, my boss looked from my father to me. I could see the dawning of understanding on his face. He backed toward his desk.
“Stay right where you are!” my father ordered. “You have some explaining to do.”
Collins changed tack and rushed to slam the family room door before my father could object.
“Are you here about my indiscretion?” Collins was smooth, I had to give him that. My face had already been hot the moment we’d stormed through the door and was getting hotter by the moment.
“Is that what you’re calling it? My daughter said that you forced her.”
“We’d both had a little too much to drink.” Collins turned his pastoral counseling eyes toward me. He flung his arms wide, stretching his pristine white polo across his chest. “Nicole, if you took it in the wrong way, I’m so sorry. I’ve been repenting to God ever since that night. Stepping out on my wife is the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
“Stepping out? If there was a tree in here, I’d string you up,” my father raged. I hoped Rosalee couldn’t hear a thing. That her kids’ squeals of laughter were drowning out my life’s most humiliating moment. My father’s fist had unfurled, and an angry finger jabbed at the air in front of Collins. “You took advantage of my daughter. We’re on our way to the Baton Rouge police department right now. I just wanted to give you fair warning.”
Collins picked up the remote control. The game went mute. I didn’t warrant complete abandonment of the NBA. He smiled his pulpit smile again and spread his arms even wider.
“That’s not necessary. No one will come out good from involving the authorities. We’d be forced to expose Nicole’s entire sexual history, and that kind of thing can ruin a woman. Even one like her. Maybe even a church.”
“The church?”
“You bailed my uncle out of debt when you took over. In order to get you paid back, we need the coffers filled every Sunday. As God’s Right Hand, I can go anywhere. Would be welcomed everywhere.”
Everyone had a secret. My father had the most, I was learning. I knew he loved me, but he may love money as equally. He wouldn’t chance my mother’s ruin.
Collins went behind the desk. Opened a drawer. I was still a little bit afraid a firearm would emerge. Despite Bowers’ proclamations and Daddy’s rush to leave the police station, I still thought Collins had more to lose than me.
A rape charge on the front page of the Advocate would tilt sentiment against New Day. The American of the Year would not be enough to tilt the scales back. A little bit of gumption came back to me. I was an adult and I could make any decision that I wanted. Once this showdown ended, I’d go back to the police department. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look myself in the mirror if I didn’t stand up for myself.
Instead of a gun, Collins thumped a manila folder on the desk. A tiny wave of relief rolled through me. It wasn’t going to be the O.K. Corral.
“Neil Bowers did give us a primer on rape shield laws,” Daddy said, but even I could hear the bravado leaving his voice.
“Then you already know about the background check.” Collins waved the folder. His voice was preternaturally calm. “We have some strict moral codes here at New Day. I have to make sure that each and every person associated with the church is upstanding and in line with what we preach.”
My father took the bait, flipped through the ten or so pages there. Then he slammed the file closed, plunked it on the desk. Paced back and forth in front of the TV. It was men in uniforms, then my dad. Men shooting the basketball, then my dad. A commercial for beer, then my dad. By the time burgers were on offer, my dad turned to Collins.
“Let’s talk terms,” Daddy offered. He looked between Collins and me. “Looks like you both have something to lose.”
Terms? My father wasn’t a cop or a prosecutor or a judge, so any terms he proposed could not include jail. Which in my eyes was the most fitting punishment for the crime.
“New Day can do severance and a promised good reference,” Collins offered.
So much for my job. Not that I wanted to keep it. But this wasn’t how I was planning to leave it.
“All that plus a payout,” Daddy added. “My daughter is going to have to find a new job and I’m not supporting her because of your bad behavior.”
“Fifty thousand,” Collins threw out.
“Five hundred,” Daddy countered.
“She wasn’t a virgin and she wasn’t that good. One hundred.”
I swallowed down the bile rising.
“Two fifty or we’re turning right around and heading out to police headquarters.” The way my father’s voice faltered, I knew he wasn’t going to do that. Face potential financial ruin. It was bravado talking.
“Done. Check will be cut as soon as this is papered with a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Deal.”
Then they shook hands. Actually shook hands. I wondered if this was what it was like with slaves on the auction block. Humanity reduced to dollars.