“Photos went up at eight a.m. across all major platforms,” the woman reports. “We’ve got them down from Instagram and Facebook. Twitter’s being slower. Working on DMCA takedowns for the rest.”
“Criminal charges?” Asher asks.
“Colorado has revenge porn laws. Class 1 misdemeanor, but with the restraining order violation and pattern of behavior with multiple victims, the DA might bump it to a felony,” the guy with him says.
“Sorry, who the fuck are you two?” I ask, glancing between them.
“Oh, this is Laurel and Patrick. The new interns I hired two weeks ago, who are learning how to handle crisis management,” Asher explains, then turns back to them. “Make sure it’s a felony. I want him buried. No one messes with my brother’s girlfriend.”
Hearing Asher be so protective makes me smile.
“Do you know where Craig is now?” I ask.
“No,” Patrick says. “After posting the photos, it seems as if he’s disappeared. We have a private investigator trying to track him. His apartment is empty.”
Julie goes even paler. “He’s hiding?”
“He’s screwed, and he knows it,” Asher says. “This is a crime with more than enough evidence to convict. Because you filed that temporary restraining order, this will not be taken lightly. This is retaliation.”
Julie turns her phone back on against my advice, and the notifications are overwhelming. I read over her shoulder—some messages are supportive, but others are disgusting. Strange men explaining what they’d do to her. Some are even calling her horrible names.
“Sweetheart, turn it off,” I whisper. “Seeing it won’t help.”
Her phone rings before she can speak, and it’s her mom.
“Mom,” Julie says, voice breaking.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother sounds upset. “Your dad and I saw … we’re sick for you. Craig is a monster.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry?—”
“Don’t you dare apologize. He betrayed you.”
Her father’s voice comes through. “I’m going to find him and make him pay for this.”
Julie excuses herself and goes upstairs so she can chat in private while more people arrive to support her. Autumn and Zane enter, and Blaire follows behind them with crystals and sage. Coffee shop employees stop by with messages of support.
“Julie is trending,” Laurel says, shaking her head. “The story’s going viral.”
“Shit.” I run my fingers through my hair. I can’t help but notice the spotlight is burning brighter because of me. Had Julie been dating anyone else, this might have been swept under the rug sooner, but because I’m attached to her, it’s getting unneeded visibility.
My phone rings from an unknown number.
“Don’t answer—” Asher starts, but I don’t listen.
“Is this Nicolas Banks?”
“What do you want?”
“This is TMZ. Would you like to comment on your girlfriend’s revenge-porn situation? We?—”
I hang up, my jaw clenched.
Julie comes downstairs and hugs Autumn and Blaire, and they stay huddled together for minutes.
“LadyLux has emailed you,” Asher says to me. “Do the interview tonight.”
“Okay,” Julie says, turning toward me.
