"Hard to say. That will largely depend on the judge, but that is always a possibility."
I think on it for a few seconds. Up until today, I'd only considered my own situation, but this has affected many more girls than just me. The website's sole purpose is to allow vindictive people to leak naked pictures and videos of young women engaged in explicit sexual activity, none of which were meant for anyone else's eyes, and many of which were taken without consent. Steven doesn't have an ounce of remorse for what he's done. And Andrew? I doubt he does, either.
"Let's bury these assholes." My voice is low and mean and determined. I've always been respectful in the way I speak around my uncle, but he doesn't even blink at my use of profanity.
Instead, he nods knowingly, and says, "That motherfucker had no idea who he was messing with."
And, for the first time in our meeting, a small but genuine grin pulls at my mouth. My uncle is known as a monster of an attorney, he will sink his steel jaws into this case and not let up until he gets the outcome he seeks. But the reason for my grin is the proud spark in my uncle's eyes, telling me he wasn't referring to himself.
He was referring to me.
That motherfucker had no idea who he was messing with.
The next few days are busy with work. I've picked up extra shifts now that classes are officially over. I'm not taking any classes over the summer session, in order to save money to be able to cut back on work hours once the fall quarter starts up again in a few months. Over the past few days, there's been a pleasant shift for me at work. Ever since Lex rescued me from crying in front of Steven, she and I have grown inexplicably closer in a way she never allowed before. We've fallen into a comfortable space where our conversations have quickly evolved from tense, forced small talk to what I'd imagine friends would have.
Wednesday rolls around and at just four in the afternoon, the lunch crowd is gone and the dinner crowd has yet to trickle in. I usually don't like when things slow down this much. But Lex is keeping me company, filling out order forms, something she could do in her office but is opting to do closer to me.
We spend a ridiculous amount of time talking during my shifts. More than I think either of us wants to admit. I've learned a lot about her over the past few days. Lex's working full time through her degree, a double major in business and engineering. I asked her how she did on her finals and she told me she aced them. I laughed at first, because the unassuming way she said it made it seem like a joke. But she wasn't joking. If I didn't know her, if I didn't glimpse the subtle signs of stress oozing out of her ever so often, I'd think it was easy for her. I might even be tempted to envy her. But the girl has no time in her life for anything else. No social life, nothing for her own enjoyment. She simply barrels through, busting her butt quietly and without complaint.
Seeing her and her trailblazing confidence, I'd guess she was raised in an affluent family. But from some of the things she's said, I've gathered the opposite. Sometimes her anecdotes are just tiny threads that make no real sense out of order, but strung together the tapestry becomes clear. She's been on her own from a young age, the only family she ever mentions is a younger sister that she seems to be responsible for.
Being a pseudo parent for a sibling, without any other family to lean on, is something I can't imagine. I come from a big family. My two sisters and I were always surrounded by cousins, aunts, and uncles. And today, I miss my family with a pang in my chest.
I miss the comfort of my sisters, knowing I could be as honest and open with them as I wanted. Having jokes that weren't really that funny, but made us laugh until our sides hurt. I even miss my sisters being in my face all the time, never giving me privacy. And I miss the obnoxiously loud, enthusiastic raising of voices whenever someone got excited in the middle of a conversation. It got loud in our house, all the time. Everyone talked over each other, no one making an effort to level their voice or their laughter.
And my parents, as insanely strict and conservative as they are, have always provided for us. Never allowing us to struggle more than what was necessary for our growth into adulthood. Sometimes we forget to count our blessings because we are looking at them from the wrong angle.
"How come you never talk about your new roommates?" Lex asks, without looking up from the ledger where she's writing.
I'm cutting fruit for garnish, preparing for the dinner crowd. "There's nothing much to say."
"Do you not like them?"
I lower my voice, though there's no one around to overhear.
"The girl, she's never around. I swear, I forget she lives there. And it's her house. The guy...he's..." I shake my head at all the inappropriate words that threaten to leave my mouth. "Let's just say he's a huge pain in my ass. He's the big-headed, God's-gift-to-women type."
"You're clutching that knife a little tight, there," she notices.
I loosen my grip and shoot her a sideways smirk. "Sorry. He drives me nuts."
"Is he hot?"
"Of course he's hot."
"They have to be, right? To get away with being such huge douches."
A few minutes later, as though reeled in by the topic of discussion, the man I call Mr. Suit sits at the bar. He offers Lex a small smile, which she returns. I glance at the time again, surprised to see him in here this early. He's been coming in the evenings, every few days. He's dismissive toward me, as always. It's obvious Lex is the only reason he comes here. But I go over and take his order, anyway. Another Jameson. Shocking in no way, at all. He looks like the type who is specific and consistent.
I head back to Lex and spare a sideways glance at our lone patron. "I think he's here to see you again," I say to her.
"I know he is."
"So what's the deal with him?"
"He's a guy I've been seeing."
My eyes go wide and I don't catch myself in time to stop them. "Seriously?"
"What?" she asks, without looking up.
"He's...older." Intimidating, I almost say. Then I remember whom I'm speaking with.
"He's in his early thirties, just eight years older than me. That's not that old. He asked me out last time and I took him up on it. We had a good time, yada, yada."
"The 'yada, yada' involves penis, doesn't it?"
She laughs quietly, but keeps her attention on her pen scribbles. "Lots of yada, yada."
"Why don't you go over there and talk to him, then?"
"He can wait. I've told him to not come visit me while I'm working."
I get back to cutting fruit, my eyes cast down. "So, my roommates and some other people are getting together for the fourth of July. I guess one of the guys has a house in Point Loma where you can see downtown's fireworks show from the roof. Want to join?"
It's my first time inviting her to something outside of work. It's taken us this long to even get to the point where this would feel normal.