Chapter 19 : The Rob of It All

Simone "Mandy," I cried from my spot on the couch. She stumbled in from the kitchen, her eyes puffy and cheeks red. We both looked like hell, and I wasn't feeling much better than that either. More immediately, though, I had to deal with the fact that my most recent sex partner was calling me, likely because he'd read about my other sex partner. Shit, shit, shit! I held up the phone for her to see who was calling. Her eyes were as round as saucers, and she just violently shook her head. "Don't answer," she said. "You've been through enough today. You don't need to talk to someone who's probably going to scream at you." I knew she meant well, but Rob didn't strike me as the screaming type. Well, not in this situation anyway. I knew all too well that he could be the screaming type in the right circumstance. "He'll just keep calling," I said, and motioned for her to sit next to me. "I just need some moral support, okay?" She nodded curtly and sat down next to me. I grabbed her hand as I answered the call. "Hi Rob," I answered breathlessly. Mandy squeezed my hand in what I thought was solidarity. When I looked at her, though, she was gesturing wildly with her other hand and mouthing, "Put it on speaker." I rolled my eyes and turned the speaker mode on. "Hey," he said casually. "I just uh… wanted to check in with you." I felt lead drop to the bottom of my stomach. Rob was such a good guy, and he didn't deserve to be put through this. I decided right then that I would come clean about everything. If he wanted to fire me as his agent and never talk to me again, I'd have to accept that. "Rob, I'm so, so sorry," I said hurriedly. "This all probably came as a shock to you. I should have been open and honest with you from the beginning. I've been seeing Michael for a few weeks. Before I even met you." God, this was so hard. I pictured sweet Rob with his messy hair and oversized glasses. His eyes under those glasses were so bright and open. They were the kind of eyes you never wanted to see hurt. I took a deep breath. "I know that you've been hurt before. What I did was absolutely awful, and I understand if you never want to talk to me again. If you want to make a shrine of me and then burn it to the ground, I'll hand you the match." "That's, um, dramatic," he answered with a nervous cough. I looked over at Mandy, who was just rolling her eyes. She nodded profusely when he called me dramatic. "Simone," he continued, "I'm not angry with you. You did tell me you weren't looking for a relationship. You f*cking blew my mind the other night! It was pretty much the best night of my entire life." I blushed, suddenly, recalling some of our activities. I looked over at Mandy again, dropping her hand. Suddenly, I didn't want her to hear any of this. She understood my flushed expression and rolled her eyes again. Mercifully, though, she didn't give me any shit about it. She stood up and made herself scarce. If I knew her at all, she was probably going to pass out in my guest room. "So," I said softly to Rob once she was out of earshot. "If you aren't mad at me, why did you call?" He chuckled lowly. "Well, first of all, I wanted to make sure you were okay. People are being hella rude online, and you don't deserve that shit." That meant a lot, especially coming from a man I'd also slept with. Most guys in his position would probably be adding fuel to the already large fire. "That's really kind of you," I said warmly. "To be honest, I haven't even read the article yet. I'm too scared." "The article?" he asked, sounding confused. "It was a TikTok," he explained. "It was an Instagram post!" I heard Mandy yell from behind me. I was feeling overwhelmed again. How far had this all gone? "Rob, can I call you back in a minute?" The panic was officially back. "I think maybe I should figure out the scope of this." He agreed, and I hung up. I started filtering through the texts and messages I had. Several had sent the same article to me, but there were also several TikTok videos, all by different people. I clicked on one and watched as some teenage girl dragged me through the mud. She was a huge Michael Hightower fan. In another video, an older man was breaking down the complexities of the story and speculating on the timeline. He guessed that we'd probably been sleeping together for months, and I was just helping out a friend with benefits. Yet another video called for me to have my license revoked. That one had nearly one million views already, and it had only been posted an hour ago. The hashtag on the video was "Hightower House Scandal," and I clicked on it. I scrolled down the page to see dozens of videos either addressing the drama or making parodies. I didn't watch them, just got swallowed up by the sheer lunacy of suddenly being infamous. Mandy had been right; this story was out of this world viral. I continued scrolling through my texts, finding links to Facebook posts, Instagram reels, even a few LinkedIn contributions. None of this compared to the thousands of notifications I had on said platforms. I got lost in a sea of my own scandal. I closed my eyes, and I could hear the voices of the shrill content creators calling me a slut. I could imagine the faces of all them. I officially wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Mandy reemerged from my guest bedroom, and I realized that I'd been on my phone for hours. I felt like I'd been sucked into a time warp. My body was stiff from the position I'd been curled up in, so I took a moment just to stretch and clear my head. "How are you doing?" Mandy asked hesitantly. I could tell from her expression that she wasn't doing so hot. This was why people didn't drink in the morning, I decided. This was also why real estate agents didn't sleep with their clients. I felt myself being dragged under into despair and dread. "I kind of feel like I want to die," I said finally. She looked at me with serious concern. "I'm not going to hurt myself," I amended quickly. "Or do anything stupid. Except I already did something stupid. It was so stupid to sleep with Michael–" "Was not," she chimed in. "He gave you the best sex of your life!" I ignored her. "And it was so stupid to piss off Crystal. You know she's at the bottom of this," I said blankly. I couldn't even be mad about it. I'd told her to meet me on the court and she had. "And most of all, it was stupid to think that I could do this," I finally said, defeated. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I barely even had the energy to cry. "Oh, no sweetie, don't you dare say that!" Mandy said, sitting down and pulling me to her. "You would've sold Michael a house if your vagina was made out of thorns," she joked. I couldn't help it; I laughed hard at this. "I'm serious," she continued. "Your worth as a real estate agent is not based on one stupid viral story, and your worth as a person isn't defined by anyone. You are amazing at what you do, and when all is said and done, you'll continue to be amazing at it. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a line of eligible bachelors lined up at Owens Group right now for your magic pussy." I couldn't help but laugh again. She was so f*cking ridiculous and exactly the friend I needed in a crisis. "And as far as Crystal goes," she went on, "people like that always reap what they sow. It may not happen immediately, but one day she'll get hers." I smiled at this too. I really hated Crystal, and I at least hoped she would get fired. Or quit. Of course, my luck so far had not favored that. "The best thing you can do is walk into work tomorrow with your head held high and act like you're above all this," she finished. "You know I became a real estate agent because I can't act, right?" I asked darkly. She rolled her eyes. "Well, that's why you won't be acting. You're allowed to spend the rest of the day wallowing, but tomorrow you're going to wake up with a new attitude and take life by the balls." "I think that's how I got into this mess," I muttered. *** Mandy left not long after that, telling me that she was here for me if I needed anything tonight. "Spend tonight taking care of yourself! And remember that turning off your phone is a form of self-care." With that, she left me, and I really didn't want to be alone with this. I didn't want to ask her to stay either because she'd already given up her entire day for me. What I needed was another person to lean on and vent to. There was one other person I felt I could trust with that, and thankfully he didn't hate me after everything. "I was wondering when you'd call back," he joked, and I instantly felt guilt. I'd told him I'd call him back hours ago. "Sorry," I muttered. "I got sucked into a vortex of negative press. Everyone online really hates me." "I don't hate you, and I basically live online," he said sweetly. This was exactly what I needed. I needed a sweet man who understood what was happening and didn't judge me for it. "I still can't believe you're okay with this," I responded truthfully. "How are you so chill?" "I know what's important and what isn't. When I'm with you, it's important. What you do when we aren't together isn't my business, so it's not important." I felt my heart swell at this. How was Rob not married? He was such a good man. "That being said," he continued, "I think it's very important for us to have dinner tonight. Wouldn't you agree?" I smiled and felt relieved. I really didn't want to be alone. "Dinner would be perfect," I told him. "But there's no way I'm leaving my house tonight. The last thing I need is to be photographed in all my snotty glory." He chuckled at this. "That's not a problem. I know a great place for takeout. I'll be there in an hour." We hung up and I collapsed into the couch.