“Listen to him lie,” Roxy exhales, surprised.
“Well, I’m going to need to take your statement. Come over to the car with us so my partner can get your information.” The other officer escorts him to the police cruiser, while the other guy calls my phone.
I answer on the first ring.
“This is Officer Wilton. I’m giving you a call about the ex-boyfriend hiding in bushes. I found a man in the bushes, but he claims his wife is out of town and he’s the homeowner.”
I interrupt him, my anger getting the best of me. “Funny he would say that, because I’m the homeowner. I’m not his wife. We’ve been broken up for almost a year, and I called you.”
“Can I come to the door and have you complete some paperwork? Since we found him creeping around, we’re going to go ahead and issue him a citation. We can’t arrest him, but he will have a court date, and I’ll get you in touch with a victim advocate who can assist you with a restraining order request.”
“I’m on the front porch next door, but I’ll be happy to come over and fill out the paperwork,” I reply as Roxy snickers.
We watch as he goes over to talk to his partner. The other officer shoves Jackson against the car and cuffs him. With Jackson no longer a threat, Roxy and I walk across the front yard to greet them. While I talk to the police and fill out paperwork, Roxy glares at Jackson.
They give me everything I need, and I thank them. Before they close the door on Jackson, Roxy shouts, “Hey, asshole.”
When he looks at her, his eyes are thin, angry slivers. But Roxy pays no mind.
“She’s banging a famous rockstar now, she doesn’t need your sorry ass. Stay the fuck away from her.” She flips him the bird.
I put my arm around Roxy’s shoulders and flip him off too. The officers laugh as they wave goodbye. “I’m glad they had a sense of humor and we didn’t get in trouble for poking the psychopath.”
“I’m just relieved our plan worked and now we have actual help getting a restraining order,” Roxy says.
“I hope this means it’s the last we see of Jackson, for good,” I sigh, watching the police car drive off.
Chapter twenty-one
The media took that photo to print real fast. Despite the legal action threatened by the label as well as my team, the tabloids still ran the photo along with the headline: Cas Wilder Eats Panties.
It’s been the craziest forty-eight hours, and now I’m sitting in a recording studio green room about to do an exclusive interview about the photo that’s gone completely viral. This isn’t my first rodeo, but it’s the first time I want to punch out every person who opens their mouth to trash the mysterious woman from the photo.
The producer counts us down, and then the interview begins:
Michael: “I’m here tonight with Cas Wilder, rockstar and social media sensation. We have an exclusive scoop on why Mr. Wilder’s team has pursued legal action against the tabloids running a photo where he appears to be eating a pair of black lace panties.”
He smiles at the cameras for his perfectly timed dramatic pauses.
Michael: “So tell me, Cas, what is it about this situation in particular that’s caused such an uproar?”
Me: “Thanks so much for having me, Michael. I think the biggest thing my team and I want to drive home about this particular photo and why we asked for it not to be published is because it’s harmful rhetoric.”
Michael: “Harmful rhetoric, Cas? That feels a bit extreme. Tell us why you use those words to describe the situation.”
Cas: “There’s an ongoing investigation against the person who took the photo. I’m limited in what I can share.”
Michael: “Very well. What can you tell us? I understand there are a lot of upset fans right now. Let’s start there.”
Cas: “Ahh, yes. The fans. Some of them are actually quite happy for me, and the ones who aren’t are probably a littledisappointed to hear I’ve taken myself off the market. I’m happily involved with the person in the photo and I want to give them the respect they deserve.”
Michael: “We love to hear that, Cas, and we wish you the best in this new endeavor. Can you tell us more about your mystery woman and the harm this photo is causing?”
I nod my head in understanding. This is my cue to drop the juicy parts of the story.
Cas: “You see, Michael, the person who took the photo is actually an estranged ex who has been harassing my new friend for a while. He was actively spying on her at the time when this photo was taken. He then sold it, profiting off her trauma. I can’t imagine it’s easy for her to see the photo circulating everywhere—a reminder of the deep violation she suffered.”
Michael: “Oh, that’s rough. Ex-boyfriend baggage is never fun to deal with, especially when they can’t take a hint the relationship is over.”
