“What the motherfucking shit?” I ask as I rush back into thehotel room.
I start toward the balcony. Idon’t know where I think I’m going, but for some reason, moving around is atleast making me feel like I’m doing something about a situation that feels so outsideof my control.
“It’s a good picture,” Darrensays, obviously trying to keep me from totally losing my shit.
“Darren. Not now,” Tad says, sincehe must understand that this invasion of privacy has nothing to do with whetheror not I’m in good enough shape for the exposure.
“Bryce,” Tad says, “we can get itpulled. I’ll call my lawyers right now. I’ve had friends who this has happenedto, and—”
“That’s not going to change howmany people are looking at my fully erect penis online right now. Oh, fuck, fuck,fuck!”
I’m embarrassed. No. Humiliationdoesn’t cover it. I feel violated. It takes me back to that day when my fosterdad cornered me in my bedroom and slapped me with his belt. I recall how thestrap felt against my arms and when the cuff caught on my cheek.
There’s a phantom burn where thescar is. Feels like it’s opened up all over again.
“Bryce, I understand,” Tad says.
“No, you really don’t. If thishappened to you, you’d be fucking thrilled. In fact, you’re probably thrilledas shit to have another scandal thrusting you into the public eye, but this isme and my fucking body. What the fuck is wrong with people? I didn’t giveanyone a right to look at this. I didn’t…God, I could lose my job over this.”
“Did Roeder say anything aboutlosing your job?”
“He said he hasn’t even talked toConnolly or Torrents yet, but I’m sure they’re not going to be dancing aroundwith excitement when they hear about it.”
“They told you to do that shoot.”
“They didn’t tell me to have mynaked body displayed all over the internet. Holy shit.”
I want to curl up in a corner andhide my body, not just from the world, but from Tad, too.
I notice that I’m rubbing my armsvigorously. Like I’m trying to wipe dirt off them. Like I’m dirty. Becausethat’s how I feel right now.
To think, people are out in theworld, pulling up the pic, looking at my dick—judging it, laughing at it,getting off to it—is horrifying. I’ve never felt that exposed. Hell, it wasfucking hard enough to convince myself to do that shoot.
“One minute, I was just a regularFBI agent,” I say. “Just doing my job. Now I’m fucking Kim Kardashian.”
“It’s not a sex tape,” Tad says.
“It’s my fucking cock and now thewhole fucking world is looking at it. I’m a fucking FBI agent. Do you have anyidea what the guys at the department are thinking of me right now? Do you haveany idea how many of them are going to pull that up and laugh their asses offabout it?”
“Bryce—”
“Get out!”
“What?”
“Get out of my room right now.This is all your fucking fault, and as much as you’re trying to act like youfucking understand, you just don’t and you never can.”
I can tell by the shift in hisexpression that he’s hurt, but I don’t care. It’s true.
“Come on, Darren,” he says.
Darren has a guilty expression onhis face, as if he feels bad that he hasn’t been able to comfort me properly.But there’s nothing either of them can do for me right now.
My thoughts spin in circles as I’mreminded of just how helpless I am against this injustice.
I hate Tad. He’s the only reason Igot involved in any of this. If it hadn’t been his bright idea to pretend to bean item, I wouldn’t have ever done that ridiculous photoshoot and this never wouldhave happened.
My thoughts return to the incidentwith my foster dad as well as when Jeff and I were cornered in the dark room inthe Cossettos’ house.
