Read Online Deeper Illusions by Annie Jocoby - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annie Jocoby
Ads: Link
this….”
“Rielle wants a divorce, of course. She’s not happy about any of this.”
“How much does she know?”
“Enough. Put it that way. But, the divorce was a long-time coming. This was just the final straw, that’s all.”
“What about the kids?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s gonna be a problem too.”
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. It’s that psycho’s fault. By the way, how is the new Mrs. Gallagher?”
He looked over at me. I simply raised an eyebrow.
“As well as can be expected,” Ryan said.
“Well, come home. Don’t keep dodging the issue. It’s not going away. Every day that you don’t get on top of this is another day that the lies are out there unanswered.”
Ryan nodded his head. He knew that was true. I knew it was true, too. We were both running, trying to buy time, trying to have some kind of a happy life together. But we weren’t living in reality, I knew this.
“Right,” Ryan said. “Well, I wanted to check in.”
“K. Talk later.”
He got off the phone and came over to sit next to me. He took my hand. “We have to address this. He’s right.”
I nodded. It sucked that we had to do it, but there was nothing more that could be done.
Now it was just a matter of figuring out to whom we would tell our story.
Chapter Eight
The very next day, we met with a reporter from People magazine. They would be running a cover story on us. The reporter, Darlene Goode, came to Nate and Nat’s apartment to meet with us. We decided that People would be the best magazine to give our story, because it had such a wide readership, and had a better reputation than any of the other pop culture magazines.
Darlene seemed eager to talk to us.
It seemed that our story was a real scoop.
She was exactly on time, arriving at the apartment at noon on the dot. She was very professional, her dark hair loosely knotted, and glasses perched on her nose. Shaking our hands, we all sat down to talk in the den.
“Do you mind if I record this?” she asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Ryan spoke. We had decided that Ryan would give his side of the story, and I would chime in when appropriate.
Darlene began. “I don’t really want to beat around the bush here. I wanted to get your side of the story.”
“Rochelle Anderson was my lover when I was 14 years old, and she was 34,” Ryan began, then proceeded to tell the reporter the gist of what happened to me. He told her about Rochelle kidnapping me, torturing me, and shooting me up with black tar heroine. He told her about how I was in a coma for two months because of it, and my PTSD. He told her about how Rochelle was obsessed with him, and how she followed him.
Darlene turned to me. “Mrs. Gallagher, tell me something. I don’t understand. You visited Ms. Anderson in jail, did you not?”
I shook my head. “We already tried to get tape of that meeting. They don’t have it. They don’t keep it for very long. Trust me, I wish that weren’t so, because that bitch –“ I composed myself. I couldn’t afford to come off unsympathetic. “Sorry, that woman confessed all to me when I saw her in jail.”
The interview went on from there. As we talked, though, I could feel my anxiety welling up. I had felt that I was over Rochelle’s attack, but all of this was bringing it back up. By the end of the interview, I was shaking. Ryan held my hand tight, then put his arm around me protectively. We had laid it all on the table. Ryan’s affair with Nick, Ryan’s sexual abuse, my cutting, everything. We knew that this was the only way to get our story out there, our side of the story.
It was completely draining, yet liberating at the same time.
After about four hours, the interview was finally over. We then made an appointment to get our photos taken for the cover. I would imagine we would look odd together – his stunning beauty, and me.
I tried to set that aside.
Darlene looked at
“Rielle wants a divorce, of course. She’s not happy about any of this.”
“How much does she know?”
“Enough. Put it that way. But, the divorce was a long-time coming. This was just the final straw, that’s all.”
“What about the kids?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s gonna be a problem too.”
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. It’s that psycho’s fault. By the way, how is the new Mrs. Gallagher?”
He looked over at me. I simply raised an eyebrow.
“As well as can be expected,” Ryan said.
“Well, come home. Don’t keep dodging the issue. It’s not going away. Every day that you don’t get on top of this is another day that the lies are out there unanswered.”
Ryan nodded his head. He knew that was true. I knew it was true, too. We were both running, trying to buy time, trying to have some kind of a happy life together. But we weren’t living in reality, I knew this.
“Right,” Ryan said. “Well, I wanted to check in.”
“K. Talk later.”
He got off the phone and came over to sit next to me. He took my hand. “We have to address this. He’s right.”
I nodded. It sucked that we had to do it, but there was nothing more that could be done.
Now it was just a matter of figuring out to whom we would tell our story.
Chapter Eight
The very next day, we met with a reporter from People magazine. They would be running a cover story on us. The reporter, Darlene Goode, came to Nate and Nat’s apartment to meet with us. We decided that People would be the best magazine to give our story, because it had such a wide readership, and had a better reputation than any of the other pop culture magazines.
Darlene seemed eager to talk to us.
It seemed that our story was a real scoop.
She was exactly on time, arriving at the apartment at noon on the dot. She was very professional, her dark hair loosely knotted, and glasses perched on her nose. Shaking our hands, we all sat down to talk in the den.
“Do you mind if I record this?” she asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Ryan spoke. We had decided that Ryan would give his side of the story, and I would chime in when appropriate.
Darlene began. “I don’t really want to beat around the bush here. I wanted to get your side of the story.”
“Rochelle Anderson was my lover when I was 14 years old, and she was 34,” Ryan began, then proceeded to tell the reporter the gist of what happened to me. He told her about Rochelle kidnapping me, torturing me, and shooting me up with black tar heroine. He told her about how I was in a coma for two months because of it, and my PTSD. He told her about how Rochelle was obsessed with him, and how she followed him.
Darlene turned to me. “Mrs. Gallagher, tell me something. I don’t understand. You visited Ms. Anderson in jail, did you not?”
I shook my head. “We already tried to get tape of that meeting. They don’t have it. They don’t keep it for very long. Trust me, I wish that weren’t so, because that bitch –“ I composed myself. I couldn’t afford to come off unsympathetic. “Sorry, that woman confessed all to me when I saw her in jail.”
The interview went on from there. As we talked, though, I could feel my anxiety welling up. I had felt that I was over Rochelle’s attack, but all of this was bringing it back up. By the end of the interview, I was shaking. Ryan held my hand tight, then put his arm around me protectively. We had laid it all on the table. Ryan’s affair with Nick, Ryan’s sexual abuse, my cutting, everything. We knew that this was the only way to get our story out there, our side of the story.
It was completely draining, yet liberating at the same time.
After about four hours, the interview was finally over. We then made an appointment to get our photos taken for the cover. I would imagine we would look odd together – his stunning beauty, and me.
I tried to set that aside.
Darlene looked at
Similar Books
