It had gotten to the point where I’d allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. It was a game of chicken with my emotional well being and the fact that I hadn’t blocked his main account. I reasoned that as a bonafide professional journalist, it would be remiss of me not to follow him. I also followed hundreds of other performers. He wasn’t unique.
On Halloween, he broke his social media silence with a single post. An uncaptioned photo. No one would recognise it, except me, and I had no way of knowing if he knew that, or if he cared.
It wasn’t a good photo, the lighting was too erratic, the exposure poor.
It was a photo of a brightly lit up street, giant skeletons lining the pavement. People in grotesque costumes milled around, none of them in focus.
Except one. A black suit with neon wires in the general shape of a skeleton, side-on to the camera, and utterly unaware a photowas being taken, because she was too engrossed in staring up at a flame-eater on stilts.
My breath caught in my chest, trapped somewhere between my hammering heart and the lump in my throat.
I’d had no idea he’d taken the photo.
The post was gone by morning.
Chapter 34
November
It had been more than a year since news of Trevor Kyle’s sexual misconduct broke into the public consciousness.
Now, it seemed as though it would fade back into obscurity just as quietly as it had been loud.
During a time of political, and social upheaval, the story of an influential, rich man feeling entitled enough to put hands on a young woman and dangle a carrot of career advancement had been on trend. Now, with the world approaching it’s new ‘normal’, social issues had fallen to the back of the papers in favour of Awards Season, festive holidays, and the recession thateconomists had been promising ever since the pandemic had shut doors all over the world.
I’d been following the case all year. I’d watched as the character of the solo singer had been called into question again, and again. I’d read the articles that called out her fashion choices, her sexual partners, her ambitions to break into the recording world, and all of it from the slant that she’d somehow invited this down on herself.
It didn’t matter that Trevor Kyle also had a joint civil action filed against him by several, unnamed women, all claiming the same thing – that he had a history of coercive behaviour.
The civil suit had been settled quietly, and now it seemed the legal one would follow the same pattern.
The singer – a young woman, who was managed by a small company, did not have an army of lawyers, or a particularly large following – had decided to drop the charges.
Officially, it was because her legal representation believed the burden of proof was too high. Not enough damning evidence to prove he had acted in a way that was contrary to the law.
Unofficially, she had spoken out about how she was being portrayed in the media, and the toll it had taken on her, personally and professionally.
She had gone from having overwhelming public support, to being grandstanded as a whore, and she no longer had the strength to push forward with something that would likely only ever result in a fine and a reputation.
I’d locked myself in the bathroom at work when I’d read the reports. I didn’t know if I was going to cry, or throw up. Maybe both.
Privately, I’d reached out to her team months ago, offering them the recording I still had, from when he’d cornered me.
They had gratefully accepted it, and I’d gone on record as saying I would be willing to do whatever they needed of me.
It hadn’t been enough. They’d reviewed the audio, agreed it was clear what he meant, but assumption was not evidence. At best I would be a character witness, and they had enough of those.
So, she was pivoting. It was now believed that conviction was unlikely without hard evidence, and that they did not have.
It wasn’t worth it.
She was now filing for a civil damages case, and the best outcome will be to dent his wallet, and his reputation, but the reality was that he would probably work again. This wouldn’t be the end of him. He had a three year ban from Pisces clients, but that would expire next year.
The probable outcome was that he would settle his damages claims and hide for a while, before quietly reentering the scene. A consult here, a collab there, and then eventually, someone who doesn’t give a shit would work with him. It’d probably be some A-lister who’d feign ignorance, and then… then no one will care.
Business as usual.
Because even with all the promises we made, all the riots, all the social media posts, all the never agains… life was circular. And people had short memories.
