Silence Reveals Hidden Answers’ by Michael Anderson novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Jennifer Marie.

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“Awn, that was your phone?” Nisha covers her mouth in fake pity from the makeup chair as I pick my phone out of the aquarium the studio artist brought in for the shoot. I’d stepped away to call for the model who’s supposed to hold the train of her dress. I come back and….this.

This is what she does?

As if today hasn’t already wrung me dry. And I know she didn’t do it herself. Just like the fake snake in my shower, she sends her minions.

I glare at her but for my own sanity, I walk away before I say something.

I’m still impaled by this morning. Not just shocked, I’m shattered. What I saw. What I heard. The way everything turned in seconds. I can’t even explain it properly. It was like a soap opera, but worse because it was real, and I was right there in the middle of it

The look on Harvey’s face when I stepped back was his breaking point. He walked away from everything the second I did.

That’s not how I imagined the morning after we slept together. But who am I to demand anything? Back at the side of the set, I slap the water out of my phone uselessly. I already know it’s dead. I feel like screaming. I swear I hate Nisha!

“Are you okay?”

Baxter finds me and I just exhale.

It’s him and Harvey in my head at the same time. If anything, I should be asking him that question, especially with the bandage wrapped around his arm. We just finished his shoot. Max steps in quickly to trim a loose tag from Baxter’s outfit while Baxter keeps staring at me.

“How did your phone get into water?”

I finally meet his eyes. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your bug faced fiancée?”

I turn to walk away, but Baxter’s hand comes out and rests lightly on my stomach, stopping me.

“Come,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk.”

I don’t have to, but I go into his dressing room anyway. It smells like expensive cologne and coffee. Baxter shuts the door behind us and tells the photographers to leave.

“What happened this morning?”

“You saw what happened!” Baxter snaps at me like I asked the wrong thing.

“Why would Harvey shoot at you-”

“I don’t know. That’s my fucking question too.”

like I as

“No, Baxter. It doesn’t make any sense. I know Harvey.”

He drags a hand over his forehead and laughs.

“No. You don’t know fucking Harvey. What you know is the boy from high school. The quiet one. The dork. Let me break it to you, that was an act. He was pretending while being capable of the worst.”

15:08 Tue, Feb 3 MW

Chapter 20

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There’s a whole history in what Baxter’s saying, some buried story between them, but I just want the simple truth of today.

“That boy was my best friend. So therefore, I know Harvey…” I repeat. “And like I said… this doesn’t make sense.”

“I brought you breakfast, Jennifer. Would you believe that’s what set him off!?” Baxter hisses.

“Huh?”

“Stupid right? And let me tell you why it ‘doesn’t make sense–it’s because you don’t know the Harvey I know. He’s possessive. He fucked you last night, didn’t he?”

My face must do all the talking for me because I feel the blood drain from it. Air leaves my lungs.

“That’s…that’s not the conversation we’re having.” I blink.

“He was coming out of your villa this morning… that’s how I know you guys slept together. Harvey saw my breakfast tray as a threat, threw the whole thing, attacked me, and aimed his gun. Thank God he only managed to graze my arm.”

“No.” I whisper. “It can’t be.”

“Why did you sleep with him?” Baxter asks.

“What?”

“Just answer the question, Jennifer!”

I don’t owe Baxter or anyone for that matter an explanation so its confusing why he even cares.

“Because I can. Because I wanted to-”

“You were a virgin.”

“And?” I meet his eyes. “What does that change?”

“Fucking Harvey is not something you do as a virgin! You’re innocent. He took advantage of you-”

“Okay, should you have been the one, then?!” I hurl and he drags a hand down his face like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“I’m trying to protect you dammit!”

“I can have sex with whoever I want! I don’t know why it matters to you.”

Baxter grabs both my arms. “I’m trying to protect you. You shouldn’t be sleeping with Harvey just because you want to explore. In the past, sure, I was a playboy… but Harvey? He has strippers around him all the time at that casino. Plus, he’s dangerous….he has dangerous friends too. That’s different.”

I just stare at Baxter. The way he says it, it’s like he believes every word. But there’s a gap in the story, a huge hole because if Harvey is so obsessed with me like a stalker is, so dangerously possessive, then why did he disappear for four whole years? Why did he let me go?

Stalkers do not let their victims go. Something happened to Harvey that made him disappear in the first place.

He didn’t just leave because he thought Baxter accepted my confession. Something changed him. That gap is why I can’t just buy what everyone is selling.

When we were best friends, I was comfortable enough to change my shirt with Harvey in the room. Comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him, to share a drink, to tell him about my stupid crushes and last night, comfortable enough to have sex with him.

15:08 Tue, Feb 3 MW.

Chapter 20

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He is not this monster they’re all painting. And as soon as I have that thought, it’s all I can think about. I need to find him. I need to hear his side.

“I need to go.” I pull my arms from Baxter’s grip and turn, not watching my step. My foot catches on a cable snaking across the floor from a light stand, and I stumble forward with a gasp.

Before I fall, Baxter’s arm clamps around my chest, pulling me back against him. I’m suddenly against his chest, off–balance and breathless. I look down at the stupid cable and right before I push his hands away or find my footing, Baxter twists me around to face him.

“I’m gonna tell my dad to make Harvey go back to New York. I don’t want him at the wedding.”

At this point, I’m silent. If Harvey leaves Italy… what’s even the point of me being here for this stupid wedding? I’m thinking that when Baxter’s thumb brushes my cheek and now, he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me-

“Baxter, what are you!”

I shove my hands into his chest and push him away before running straight out of the dressing room.

“Where are you going?” Max asks when he sees me rushing past.

“Home. I… I have to go. Just tell Alexa I had something to do.” I throw over my shoulder.

“Jennifer, you can’t be serious—” he calls after me, but I’m already pushing through the heavy studio doors and out into the dark, confusing evening.

I don’t even try to call Harvey. My phone has been soaking in water for way too long to be useful now.

Hailing a taxi, I give the driver the address for Lake Como and spend the entire thirty–minute ride staring out the window.

When we get to the estate, I’m trying to put my hair up in a bun because it’s all over my face and I can’t think. That’s when I see police officers. Two of them, talking to Francis Prescott by the main Villa entrance gate. Francis glances over, sees me, and his eyes narrow for a second before he turns back to the cops.

Oh Lord.

Harvey.

When I reach Harvey’s villa, I ring the doorbell. David opens the door–his manager, I think.

“Hi, um… can you tell Harvey I’m here? I really need to talk to him, please.”

David shakes his head. “He’s not here. He went to the club.”

“Saints?”

“Yeah. That one.”

“Okay,” I say, already turning to leave.

“Yeah. Uh, okay.” I turn, already calculating how I’m going to get there. Another taxi?

“Wait.” David’s stops me. “He’s been trying to call you, you know that, right?”

“No, my phone…” I pull the dead device from my pocket. “It fell in water. It’s dead.”

“Shit.” David disappears back inside for a second and returns, jangling a set of car keys. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

I rush alongside him to a black car parked in the garage. We get in, and about twenty–plus minutes later, we pull up in front

15:08 Tue, Feb 3

Chapter 20

of Saints. The nightlife club that’s glowing against the Italian night.

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The club is a glittering monster. A tower of light that’s literally clawing at the darkening sky. The sign “Saints” on top is huge with a kind of glamour that forces you to stop and stare. It’s completely packed. The line to get in wraps around the block. David has to park in the back alley because fighting through that crowd in the car would take forever.

We get out, and the bass from inside thumps through the pavement into my bones. David talks to one of the huge security guys in a vest, who nods and unhooks the red velvet rope for me.

“He’ll be in his office.” David raises his voice over the noise.

“Thanks, David!” I shout back, and then I’m swallowed by the crowd.

Inside is pure madness. Is this what Saints looks like when it’s not booked? I remember the way from last time so I push past a group laughing by a private booth, heading for the discreet elevator at the back guarded by another bouncer who just nors as I approach.

I take the elevator and when it chimes open, it’s reveals the hallway for management.

I walk down and knock before entering this time.

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