Part 50 (1/2)
”Wow, Dean Youngblood,” Detective Pacheco gushes, holding up the Styrofoam football Dean just autographed for him. I want to laugh at how carefully he places it in a desk drawer. ”This is gonna be worth something some day.”
Yeah? Probably not as much as Dean Youngblood's s.e.x video. Ugh.
Despite their fanboy behavior, they seem like good cops. They're very thorough and detailed, which is both mortifying and rea.s.suring. Everyone's very sympathetic, but I freak out when Dean reveals that Kara showed the video to Dalton Paley, and some guy named Eli-another one of her screw buddies.
”Did she just show it to them, or do they have copies?” I ask, dreading the answer.
”If they do have copies, they won't be showing it to anyone else,” Detective Daniel says firmly. He pats my hand. ”We have their names, and we'll make sure the video doesn't get out. It ends here.”
I smile weakly in return. But I watch the news-I've read about cases where videos and pictures are leaked online, and go viral. And the victims...their lives are completely ruined. I don't know if I can handle that, but I guess if it's going to happen, then there's nothing I can do to stop it. Whatever happens, Kara and her cohorts have committed crimes, and they deserve to be punished accordingly.
My dad has to show up when we're talking about the s.e.x video, of course. He brings Mich.e.l.le with him, whom I'm both shocked and pleased to see. Mich.e.l.le hugs both me and Mom, then proceeds to check out Dean. Dad is also staring at Dean, but in a completely differently way. My good-natured laid back father looks like he wants to tear my boyfriend in half.
”Why did you call him?” I mutter to Mom as Dad starts interrogating Dean like he's a suspect. Detective Pacheco is trying to intervene, speaking in calm tones to Dad.
”He's your father,” Mom replies with a shrug. ”He has a right to know.”
I stare after her as she walks over to Dad. He whips around to look at her, his eyes bugging out. She gestures toward the door, and with one last glare at Dean, he follows her out. It's the first time I've seen them together in years. It's kind of cool that they're not fighting, even if they are discussing ways to keep me locked up until I go away for college.
”So, that's Dean,” Mich.e.l.le mutters in my ear, startling me.
I follow her gaze to him. He's talking with the detectives, tall and in control, and mature beyond his years. Dad's hostility doesn't seem to faze him, and I'm proud of how respectful he is to both my parents. He sees me looking at him, and his impa.s.sive expression transforms into something warm and intimate.
”Daaaaamn,” Mich.e.l.le sings in my ear. ”Does he have an older brother?”
”Well, he has a stepbrother, but I dated him, too,” I point out wryly.
”Kinky, yet intriguing,” she muses, sounding like her old self.
I shake my head at her. Now I know where I inherited my pervert gene!
My parents come back in the room, and Dad is much more calm, thank goodness. I don't think he's made the connection with Dean's last name, but it looks like Mom enlightened him. He's looking at Dean now with a weird combination of wariness and embarra.s.sment. You know, I guess it's a good thing that Dean's father is a no-show. I can just imagine the bloodshed that would occur. I wonder if they know each other, and if Mr. Youngblood still holds a grudge. If so, I hope Dean loves me enough to hold his father back. My dad's a lover, not a fighter.
Ugh, forget I said that. A disgusting mental image of him and Cherise just popped into my head.
I slump into a chair, suddenly completely exhausted. Dean is immediately there, rubbing my back.
”You okay?” he asks quietly.
”I'm fine, I just want this to be over with.” I lean both elbows on the table, and rest my head in my hands. ”G.o.d, this is so humiliating.”
”Hey,” he says, and tilts my face up to his. ”Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. I won't let you get hurt again.”
I manage a feeble smile. ”What, are you gonna beat up everyone who gives me a hard time?”
”I have no problem with that,” Dean replies, completely serious.
That gets a laugh out of me. ”And what if it's a girl?”
”Then I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself, slugger.”
A snort escapes me. Dad hears me, and glares at Dean like-I don't know-like he's whipped it out, and is chasing me around the table with it. That image makes me bury my face in my arms, my shoulders heaving. It's totally inappropriate. I hope everyone thinks I'm sobbing. Dean gives me a few half-hearted pats to maintain the illusion, though I know he can hear my gasping giggles. I'm sure he doesn't know what to make of it.
Dean finally gets a hold of his dad, who agrees to come down to the station-but it will take a while because he's bringing his lawyer with him. Why does he need a lawyer? I ask Dean, but he only answers with a half-hearted shrug. I want to stay and wait with him, but my parents want to leave, and Dean convinces me to go. Both Mom and Dad shake his hand before we leave, astonis.h.i.+ng me. Mich.e.l.le gives him a hug, and I'm pretty sure she copped a feel of his abs.
The adults decide to do lunch, though I've never felt less hungry in my life. Dad picks a Mexican restaurant that we used to go to all the time because Mom loved their red sauce. I push my enchiladas around on my plate, and watch my parents cautiously talk and smile at each other. Mich.e.l.le stays pretty quiet, only responding to questions directed at her. The sparkle in her eye is gone.
Dad and I wait outside the restaurant while Mom and Mich.e.l.le visit the restroom, and it's there that he decides to begin the most awkward conversation in human history. I don't want to repeat it, I just want to strike it from my memory. Mercifully, it's short-and then Dad starts talking about Dean's quarterback stats. He seems to like Dean better than he did Johnny-whom he did not trust at all. He still threatens to kick Dean's a.s.s, ”no matter how big he is,” if he hurts me.
As soon as I get home, I call Heather, who arrives on my doorstep twenty minutes later with a huge carton of Boppy's Mochalatta Crunch. We check online for any activity, but there's nothing unusual. Heather informs me that she's seen the video of Kara going down on some pizza, and would like her number, please. I'm almost tempted to give it to her.
”Either she made her profile private, or she deleted her account,” Heather is saying, busily typing away on her phone. ”I'm betting she deleted it, because I know I saw her on Sloane's friend list and now...yeah, she's not on there, anymore. Ha!”
”Hey, who's that guy?” I ask, pointing to Sloane's profile picture. Her arms are wrapped around a very tall, slim, dark-skinned guy.
Heather loses her smile. ”That's Slater. They met through her modeling agency. They just started dating.”
”Oh. Sorry.” I fight to keep my tone neutral, though I can feel my left eyelid twitching madly. ”Um...are you okay with that?”
Heather stares daggers at the picture, before waving a hand in the air. ”Whatever. She never promised to be exclusive with me. I don't think she knows what she wants.”
She wants people to wors.h.i.+p her-but I don't say that out loud. Really, I don't like that girl. Especially after Heather told me that Sloane was the one who told Kara about my father and Dean's mother. I knew Dean wouldn't have said anything!
”Huh,” I mutter, twisting a piece of string hanging from my s.h.i.+rt. ”Are you sure you want to follow her to NYU?”
Heather makes a face at me. ”Are you following Dean to LSU?” she counters.
”I haven't decided yet,” I say snootily. ”And he said he'd go wherever I want.”
”He signed with LSU, he kinda has to go there,” Heather points out. She digs out a huge spoonful of Mochalatta Crunch and points it at me.
”He would walk away from it if I wanted him to,” I say. I know I'm wearing a disgustingly sappy grin, but I don't care.
”Yeck.”
Heather catapults a blob of ice cream at my face. It hits me in the forehead, and slides down my nose. It's disgusting...and delicious.
”You're so immature.” I wipe my face off with a napkin, then I grab her bowl and lick the whole top of her ice cream. I set it back in front of her with a flourish.
She sputters a laugh. ”Nice tongue action. Dean's a lucky guy.”
”Gross.”
”So...” Heather stares at her ice cream, as if trying to decide whether she should still eat it. ”What happens now? Are you gonna have to testify against Kara?”
”Probably.” I grimace at the thought. ”The detectives told me it will probably take months to interview everyone, and, you know, gather evidence. They said they'd keep our names out of it-but things get leaked all the time. Not because anyone would want to see me-but Dean's a different story He's Dean Youngblood, star quarterback and a walking Abercrombie and Fitch ad. I'll just be the little s.l.u.t who kept begging him for more.”