When We Were Bright and Beautiful(92)

Anderson objects. “Asked and answered!”

McKay sustains. “Get to the point, Counselor.”

“Sure.” DeFiore is keen to comply. “My client has a secret. But he is not addicted to pornographic videos, is he, Ms. Holly? Nor is he impotent. Nor does he need porn to perform sexually. Does he, Ms. Holly?”

Seeing Diana wince, I have to close my eyes.

“No,” I hear her say softly.

“Miss Holly, you deceived the court when you made these claims, didn’t you?”

Silence. The judge requests an answer. “Remember you are under oath.” His sharpness is jarring. I open my eyes. Diana is crumpled in her seat.

“Billy has several secrets,” she says, and it’s clear she’s starting to break.

“But which secret, specifically, made him angry? And which secret, specifically, was he afraid you might tell people?”

More silence.

“I’ll ask again. Billy Quinn does have a secret, correct? But it’s not porn, is it?”

Beaten, she looks up. “No, it’s not.”

“When did you discover Billy’s secret?”

“In November. At his family’s house. Before dinner.”

“And you told Billy what you discovered, correct? That’s why he broke up with you?”

“Yes.”

“Billy is referring to this secret here, correct?” DeFiore points: You can’t tell anyone.

“Yes.”

“Then, a few months later, on March 24, you brought up the secret again. This scared Billy, correct? It also made him angry, didn’t it? That’s why you said his anger was your fault, correct? So, I’ll ask you again, Ms. Holly: What is my client’s secret?”

Diana exhales. She studies her hands. “I knew Billy had issues with his sister. He talked about Nate, but rarely about Cassie, even in passing. He acted like he didn’t even have a sister. But the night we were at his parents’ house, she showed up unexpectedly—”

“This was in November?”

“Yes. In November. That night . . . I realized . . . I saw . . .” Her eyes fill with tears.

“What happened, Ms. Holly?” DeFiore’s voice is gentle. “What did you see?”

“It was before dinner.” Diana looks directly at me. “I saw Billy’s father with his sister. Lawrence had his hand . . .”

The courtroom is quiet. I feel like I’m standing on a ledge a thousand feet in the sky. Air rushes past my ears. I’m suffocating.

“His hand.” She turns to Billy, openly crying. “Lawrence’s hand.” Billy bows his head. I assume he’s crying too.

Lawrence’s hand is cupping my breast. We’re laughing. He’s such an idiot; a horny boy with a perpetual hard-on. He’s forever fondling me behind doors, as if my body isn’t mine but his to play with as he pleases. Boob-honk, we call it. Got one—honk. Got the other—honk, honk. I tell him to quit it. We’re about to eat. Walking out of the room, I’m still laughing when boom—there’s Diana Holly in the hall, holding a vase.

That she saw us never crossed my mind, not once. But now it hits me: the vase was a prop. She was just pretending to check the label.

Diana clears her throat. “Lawrence had his hand on Cassie’s breast.”

“Diana, stop!” Billy shouts. “Don’t, please. I’m begging you.”

“Counselor, silence your client.”

DeFiore keeps drilling. “What’s the secret, Ms. Holly? What made Billy so angry and afraid? What secret destroyed your relationship?”

“Billy’s father and sister have a sexual relationship. They were kissing. When I told Billy what I saw, he didn’t believe me. But I saw them!”

The courtroom erupts. I hear a shout, “No!” It’s Eleanor, the Sphinx. She’s up on her feet and shrieking in a voice I’ve never heard before. “No, No, No.”

“Order!” The gavel slams. “We’ll take a break.”

Eleanor rushes out of the room, the Bowtie close on her heels.

My phone dings with a text: #TimesUp #MeToo I turn. Haggerty’s in the back. Seeing me, he waves.





53


TEN MINUTES LATER, MY BROTHERS AND I ARE IN THE CONFERENCE room. We’d shuffled back here, silently, like zombies, neither looking at nor speaking to one another. Unsure what was next, we sat down to await further instructions.

Our silence fills the room. I sit on one side of the long table. Billy and Nate are across from me on the other. The air is so heavy it crushes my neck and shoulders. I want to say something, I need to say something. But I’m struck dumb. Guys? Guys? Guys?

The minutes tick by.

Lawrence appears in the doorway. “You kids see Eleanor? We should find her.” Instead of doing this, he walks into the room. His movements are jerky and robotic, as if his limbs are controlled by a puppeteer. He sits down between my brothers. So, now all three men are aligned on one side of the table, and I’m alone on the other.

“Insane accusation,” Lawrence is muttering. “Absolutely insane. I have no idea what game Peter is playing. But I will find out. Obviously, nothing the girl said is true.” His eyes shift from Nate to Billy, Billy to Nate, begging for a response, a fuck you, Dad—anything but this deafening silence. “You know that, right? Come on, guys. Talk to me.” The only person Lawrence won’t look at is me.