Because of the fumes, neither Julien nor I were talking, so when someone knocked at the door, I jumped.
“Piper Black?”
I turned to see a pair of policemen standing on my front step. They were in street clothes, but I could clearly see the badges on their belts. One was an older man, probably in his mid-fifties, with gray hair and one of those perpetual scowls that people get from working a job that dealt with idiots most of the time. The other cop was a woman. She had short blonde hair and a severe-looking face that softened only when she saw Julien, and then only for a second.
I was suddenly very self-conscious that I was wearing grubby clothes and had a handkerchief on my head, holding back my hair so it didn't get in the varnish remover. My face was flushed and I was sweating. Julien on the other hand, was shirtless and looked good glistening with sweat.
“Are you Piper Black?” the male cop spoke directly to me this time.
“Yes, sorry, that's me.” I scrubbed my hand on the cleanest spot of my jeans I could find and held it out as I walked over to the cops.
“I'm Detective Jabowski. This is my partner, Detective Kinsman,” the man introduced them as he shook my hand.
Saying that it was nice to meet them seemed a bit strange, so I went with something else that I thought was equally polite. “How can I help you?”
“May we come in?” Jabowski asked.
“Of course.” I stepped back to let them come in. “Sorry about the smell.”
“No problem.” Detective Kinsman's eyes flicked to Julien and then back to me. “We have a few questions to ask that may be of a... delicate nature.”
I glanced back at Julien and he crossed the few feet to stand next to me. There was a shadow in his eyes, but I didn't ask about it. It could wait. “It's okay,” I said. “He's a friend. You can ask your questions.” It was nice, knowing that Julien already knew about my history and that I didn't have to try to hide anything from him.
“All right,” Jabowski said. “Do you know a young man named Brock Michaels?”
I stiffened and Julien put his hand on my elbow. “Yes,” I said. “We dated for a few weeks.”
“How did you meet?” Jabowski asked.
“Can I ask what this is about?” I asked.
Kinsman ignored him and asked me the question again, “How did you and Mr. Michaels meet?”
“I was a stripper in Las Vegas,” I said bluntly. I'd dealt with people like them before. They wanted to know if I'd lie because I was ashamed or tell the truth because I was proud. For some people, those were the only two options. “I danced at a bachelor party.”
“Who hired you for the party?” Jabowski asked.
“I assume Brock did since he was the best man.” I crossed my arms.
“You assume?” That came from Kinsman.
“My roommate in Vegas was the original dancer who got the job offer and she needed a second person. I never talked to anyone about arrangements or anything like that.”
“What was your interaction with Mr. Michaels at the party?” Jabowski asked.
Julien's fingers tightened around my arm and I knew he was telling me to be honest. I wanted to lie, but I had a feeling they already knew the answer to most of the questions they were asking.
“I did a general dance for all of the men there, and then danced with some of them more closely. I didn't single anyone out. A few hours into the party, I went out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Brock came out and offered me a bottle of water. That's where things get fuzzy.” I worked to keep my voice strong. “I have glimpses of someone touching me, but nothing clear. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bed.”
“Whose bed?” Kinsman asked.
“The groom's. He told me that Brock and I had been drunk and that he'd stopped us before anything had happened.”
“The groom's name?” Jabowski asked.
“Look, I don't understand what–”
“How much did you have to drink that night, Miss Black?” Kinsman cut me off.
“I didn't.” I almost snapped at her, barely managing to restrain myself at the last moment. “At first, I'd thought maybe I'd done a couple shots and blacked out, and that's what I didn't remember. I found out later that Brock had drugged the water and tried to rape me. If Reed hadn't come in and stopped him, he would've succeeded.”
“Reed?” Jabowski's eyebrow went up.
“The groom.” I sighed. “Reed Stirling. I used to go to school with his sister.” I wasn't about to volunteer any extra information in that particular connection.
“How did you find out that Brock drugged you?” Kinsman asked, her voice clearly saying that she was skeptical of my story.
“He confessed it to me,” Julien smoothly interrupted.
“Excuse me?” Jabowski looked surprised.
“When Brock and Piper were dating, she was still living in Vegas. He and I went down to see her, and the last night we were there, while she was in the bathroom, he told me what he did.”
“I overheard it,” I added. “That's how I found out.” My stomach was churning. I didn't like to think about that night.
“And then I hit him.” Julien put his arm around my shoulders.
I suddenly thought of something that hadn't occurred to me until just then. “Why do two Philadelphia detectives care about an unreported assault in Las Vegas?”
“That brings up a good question, Miss Black. Why didn't you report it?” Kinsman neatly dodged my question.
“Because there wasn't any proof that anything happened,” I said. I was really getting sick of her attitude. “And, like pretty much everywhere, if a stripper in Vegas cries rape, there better be damn good evidence to back it up. Plus, what happened to me hadn't even been a rape. I didn’t think anyone would take what happened seriously.”
Julien looked from Jabowski to Kinsman, his expression clearly saying he didn't like how they were handling things. “Maybe I should have Piper call my family's attorney. He plays golf with your boss.”
The cops exchanged glances that said they didn't know who Julien was.
“Sorry, I forgot to make introductions,” I said sweetly. “This is Julien Atwood.” I waited until the last name registered on both faces before adding, “And, yes, those Atwoods.”
“You want to tell us what's going on?” I asked again.
Kinsman and Jabowski looked at each other before Jabowski answered, “We're trying to establish a pattern of behavior.”
My stomach twisted again as I realized what they meant. Brock had tried to do to someone else what he'd done to me. I glanced up at Julien, but his face was unreadable.
The detectives asked a few more follow-up questions regarding the time Brock and I were dating, but I could tell it all basically boiled down to the same thing: why had I dated a man who'd drugged and tried to rape me? When they realized my answer was always going to be that I hadn't known what he'd done until afterwards, they seemed satisfied. Jabowski gave me his card and said that someone would be in touch.
As soon as they left, I sank down on the floor. What had just happened?
Julien sat down next to me. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. I didn't know. I thought I'd put it all behind me and I wouldn't have to think about it again. I'd accepted that the closest I was going to get to justice was the money Julien had gotten for me.
“Shit.”
“What's wrong?” Julien put his hand on my shoulder.
“The money, Julien.” I looked over at him. “If the cops start digging, they're going to find out that Brock gave me ten thousand dollars. It's going to look like hush money.” My stomach lurched. “Or like he paid me for sex.”
He took my hand. “I'm not going to let that happen, Piper. Brock gave me the money. I gave it to you. I'll tell them you didn't know where it came from. You thought it was just from me.”
I shook my head, barely hearing him. Now that I was getting over my initial shock, I tried to process what had happened. Ho
w had they found out about what happened in Vegas? Not many people knew about it.
“Reed,” I said softly.
“What?”
I looked up at Julien. “Something must've happened to make Reed tell the cops what happened to me. He was furious when he found out what Brock had done.” My heart gave a crazy little skip. “He must be worried about how I'd take it.” I started to stand. “I have to go see him.”
“Piper, wait.” Julien's hand closed around my arm, keeping me seated.
I looked over. His face was flushed and he couldn't meet my eyes. Concern for my friend took priority, no matter how I felt about what Reed had done. “What is it?”
“It wasn't Reed,” he said. His eyes flicked to mine and then down again. He let go of my arm and folded his hands together. “He didn't tell the cops about Brock. I did.”
“You?” The word fell flat between us. “And you didn't think it was a good idea to ask me first? Or, I don't know, at least tell me they'd be coming?”
“Those weren't the two I talked to,” he said. “The detective I spoke with said he'd give me a head's up before he came over so I could tell you.”
I crossed my arms and reminded myself that I'd been ready to go see Reed to tell him I wasn't mad about what he'd done. How could I not offer Julien a fraction of that same forgiveness?
He held up his hands, palms out. “Let me explain, please.”
I motioned for him to continue.
“You remember on Saturday when I mentioned a fundraiser I was going to with my mom because my dad was too busy?”
I nodded.
“Well, it was at the Michaels' house and as soon as I got there, I saw Brock all over this one server. She was barely eighteen and looked like she was too scared to tell him to go away. I didn't say anything when he kept talking to her, but when I saw him give her a drink, my gut said he was drugging her. I kept watching and, sure enough, about five minutes later, he had his arm around her and they were leaving. She was having a hard time walking.”
My hands curled into fists and I felt my nails biting into my palms, but I ignored the pain.
“I tried going after them, but by the time I managed to get across the room, they were gone. It took me almost fifteen minutes to find him in a spare room.” The expression on Julien's face went from concern over what I was thinking to fury over what he was remembering. “What he was doing to her...”
I felt like I was going to be sick. I looked down at his hands and things clicked into place. My annoyance at him faded as I reached over and gently took his injured hand in mine.
“You stopped him,” I said softly. It wasn't a question.
“But I didn't get to him before he raped her.”
Now I could hear that some of the anger in his voice was directed at himself.
“You still stopped him from hurting her even more,” I said firmly.
Julien looked up at me, his eyes glittering. “I beat the shit out of him, Piper. Knocked him out and kept going. I don't know what would've happened if a couple of guests hadn't heard the commotion and pulled me off of him.”
I started to unwind the bandage he'd clumsily wrapped around his hand, ignoring him when he started to protest. “Tell me what happened next,” I prompted.
“The cops had already been called, and there were enough guests around that the Michaels' bodyguards couldn't really do anything to me since I wasn't putting up a fight. They also couldn't completely cover up what had happened because too many people had already seen the girl.”
I could feel Julien's eyes on me as I finished taking off the bandage. I caught my breath as I saw the damage. His knuckles were swollen and bruised, crisscrossed with angry red cuts.
“You should've gone to the hospital and gotten this checked out,” I said and then stood. “Come on, let me take a look at it.”
He followed me into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub while I got out my first aid kit.
“What happened when the police got there?” I asked.
“I didn't want to tell them why I'd been suspicious of Brock, but I knew as soon as one of them started talking about how 'boys will be boys' when they have too much to drink that I couldn't keep you out of it. They needed to know that he'd done it before and this wasn't a case of her being too drunk to consent and him being too drunk not to notice.”
I knelt in front of him and began to clean his wounds. He winced at the sting, but didn't pull his hand away.
“I'm so sorry, Piper. I didn't know how to tell you.”
I focused on applying anti-bacterial cream to his cuts. “It's okay, Julien. I understand why you did it.” I placed his palm flat on mine. “Can you move your fingers?”
If he was startled by the change of conversation, he didn't show it. “Some.” He moved each finger. “I don't think anything's broken.”
“You need an x-ray,” I said as I re-wrapped it with a fresh bandage.
“I'm fine,” he insisted.
I looked up at him now, a new anger rushing through me. “You're not fine!” I snapped, startling him. “You could have serious damage to your hand, Julien. What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I was thinking that I hadn't been there to protect you and I'd fucked up protecting that girl. I kept thinking of his hands on you...” His voice trailed off and he looked away, like he'd revealed more than he'd intended.
“You didn't know me when it happened.” My stomach was twisting again, but this time it was for a different reason. I'd suspected Julien felt something for me that was more than friendship, but he'd never acted on it or even talked about it, allowing me to push it away and not have to deal. Now it was right there.
“Doesn't matter,” he said. He pulled his injured hand away.
“It does matter,” I insisted. I reached out and put my hand on his cheek, turned his face back to mine. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
I didn't answer as I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his. His entire body stiffened at the contact. It was brief, chaste, but I couldn't deny the way my skin tingled the moment it had come against his. I stood before either of us could start overanalyzing what had just happened.
“Come on,” I said.
“Where are we going?” His voice was unsteady and warmth spread through me as I realized an innocent kiss had done that.
“To the hospital,” I said. I'd try to figure out what all of this meant later. Right now, Julien needed a professional to look at his hand.
Eight
Once I'd let it sink in, I'd been worried that what I'd done would change everything, but it didn't. Julien didn't let it. Our friendship remained as solid as ever. If anything, we were closer than before. We just didn't talk about the kiss. Sometimes I wondered if maybe I'd read him wrong and he didn't feel that way about me after all. But other times, I'd catch him watching me and I was sure it was more than just platonic affection in his gaze.
Then there was the way I was starting to feel around him. I couldn't deny the way I'd felt when I'd kissed him, but I did try to play it off as gratitude for what he'd done and said. That worked for about a week and then I had to give it up because I was tired of lying to myself. I didn't think I was in love with Julien, but what I felt for him was absolutely more than friendship.
The day I first admitted that to myself, I spent hours trying to talk myself out of it. Over the last six months, I'd made two very bad choices when it came to men, one of which was a direct result of letting myself rebound into a relationship just because I'd been hurting. By the end of the night, I decided I was going to be smart this time. I wouldn't push anything. I would let our friendship grow naturally and see where things went. I wouldn't try to figure out exactly how I felt about him and I wouldn't initiate again. If Julien decided that he wanted to make a move, then I'd deal.
That worked really well for a couple weeks. We continued doing home improvement stuff around my place. We went out to eat and to movies together. We even
went to see a live musical at the theater. Front row tickets that Julien said he'd won, but I suspected he paid full price for. The more time we spent together, the more we shared and the closer we became. When I talked to Anastascia, I could hear the questions in her voice, wondering if Julien and I were dating, but I didn't go there. I loved Anastascia, but for the time being, I wanted to keep whatever this was to myself.
We avoided parties and events that those of his social circle would attend, steering clear of Brock and Reed both. I'd given my official statement a few days after the police had questioned me and they said they'd call if they needed me.
Brock had immediately been released on bail, which wasn’t surprising. Julien kept trying to prevent me from seeing coverage, but I couldn't get away from it. Britni's support of her brother was loud and her opinions of both the server and myself scathing. She never quite managed to get our names out there, but a few of the students at Madame Emilana's had said things that told me they suspected.
Reed's media presence was suspiciously absent. He made no public statements and I never saw a single picture of him with Britni. My feelings for him had quieted, but I wasn't sure if they were completely gone yet.
By mid-November, Julien started hinting that he wanted me to spend the holidays with him and his family. Fortunately, Anastascia had already invited me for Thanksgiving and Christmas was implied. I knew things were strained at the Atwood house, especially since the whole Julien and Brock incident. The Michaels family had apparently been partners in one of the Atwood businesses and lines were being drawn. Julien hadn't said it, but I was pretty sure one of those lines had been his father taking Brock's side.
The Friday before Thanksgiving, I got home from work late, exhausted from a double shift – one before dance and one after – and barely had enough energy to take a shower before falling into bed. I was asleep almost instantly.