“I’m gonna check to see if the bartender will card me,” she says, pushing herself out of her seat. “Let’s hope not, for all our sakes.”
That’s when the phone rings again. It’s Savannah. I hold the phone to my ear, bracing myself for another problem I can’t help with.
“Josie,” she says, sounding out of breath, “Josie, I found it. I didn’t remember signing it because it was mixed in with all the paperwork I did once I quit, but—”
“Oh my God, Savannah.” My chest fills with hope. “You found it?”
“He told me I couldn’t tell anyone or he’d sue me,” she continues. “But this NDA is insane. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, not friends or family or coworkers. Not even a counselor, unless they signed an NDA, too.”
“Josie?” Penny stares intensely. “What is it?”
“And this isn’t the original NDA, right?” I say, rising to my feet. “You signed this one later?”
“Yeah, I signed it when I left,” she says. “My manager must have explained it to me, but I didn’t even—I didn’t even process, you know?”
“Savannah.” My voice is shaking. “If you could share that with me and give me permission to use it in the article, it would make a huge difference.”
I hear her take a deep breath. Penny grips my hand. I look at her, my eyes brimming with tears.
“But then you’d be publishing my name,” she says. “Right?”
“That’s true,” I say. “And, Savannah, it’s your choice. Take the night to think about it—take as long as you want, even.”
I pause, licking my lips.
“But I can tell you right now that what happened to you is bullshit,” I continue. “The fact that he hurt you is bullshit. That NDA is bullshit. He tried to control you, but he can’t. You’re the one with the power here.”
I squeeze Penny’s hand. She squeezes back.
“You have the power, Savannah,” I say again. “Not him. He’s done controlling you.”
It feels like I wait a lifetime for Savannah’s answer, holding my breath the whole time. But then she says, “Fuck it. You’re right.”
And I can’t help myself: I scream, right there in the middle of the restaurant.
@JosieTheJournalist: nothing in the world could’ve prepared me for this
“Josie.” Kim’s voice filters into the room. “Do I have you?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “You have me.”
It’s morning and I’m sitting in Monique’s living room, Penny, Alice, and Monique sitting beside me. We’re all holding hands. I wrote an updated draft as soon as I got the NDA from Savannah and sent it to Kim last night, and I got an email from her this morning asking to talk.
“Excellent. So I won’t keep you waiting. We sent the draft to Lennox at one a.m., and we’ve already heard back.”
Penny’s hand squeezes mine. I squeeze back.
“Interesting response,” Kim says, voice dry. “He threatened to sue the paper.”
“Jesus,” I say.
Kim laughs. “Yeah, it’s ballsy, all right.”
I swallow. Monique puts a hand on my shoulder.
“But,” Kim adds, “we’ve spoken about it. Everyone on our end still has confidence in the story, and we want to publish. We wanted to run it by you before we let him know and asked for a statement.”
I can’t even imagine what he’d say in a statement. My leg bounces.
“I don’t know,” Penny says, looking at me. “He could make things so much worse.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But he would only threaten to sue if he were scared, right?”
She bites her lip.
“I believe in this story,” Kim says. “Our editorial board believes in this story. Our lawyer believes in this story. The question is whether or not you still do.”
Penny stares at me. I stare back at her. I think one of us is supposed to comment, to say something first, to start it so that the other can follow. I don’t know if I should be that person. After all, this isn’t really about me. It’s about other people’s stories.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not important to me. That doesn’t mean it’s not important, period. I didn’t say anything when Ryan King ripped my shirt off in the girls’ bathroom, and I barely said anything when Lennox tried to bully us. I can do something now. Even if this story doesn’t ruin him like Penny wanted, at least we get to fight back somehow. We don’t have to yell or scream in his face. We can just let this story run.
“I think we should,” I say, glancing at Penny. “I’m proud of it.”
Penny swallows.
“Yeah,” she says. “Let’s do it.”
I squeeze her hand.
@JosieTheJournalist: sometimes it’s hard to remember that your voice is important until the world reminds you
I wake up on Monique’s couch late that afternoon and everything seems normal. Penny is gone and there’s sunlight streaming through the window and the news playing on the TV.
There’s also a lot of screaming.
I blink, rubbing my eyes, and sit up. Alice walks back and forth, a phone pressed to her ear. Every time she moves, I can see a bit of the TV. It’s CNN. They keep flashing pictures of Roy Lennox and Penny and Julia and—
Oh, shit.
Underneath the pictures, in big block letters, it reads: “Director Roy Lennox Accused of Sexual Assault.” I rub my eyes. It doesn’t go away. I’m not dreaming.
“Oh my God,” I say out loud.
I knew we were moving forward with the story. I knew Kim was going to get an official statement from Lennox and that the story would be published. But for some reason, I didn’t think it would happen this fast. I certainly didn’t think it would be on CNN this fast.
I reach for my phone, but it isn’t on the coffee table. It must’ve fallen. I toss the blanket off and start feeling around, but then Monique comes into view. I realize she’s the source of all the screaming.
“Do you see this?” She jabs a finger at the TV screen.
