“Right, right. I get it.” She buried her head in her hands and groaned.
Theo had seen this reaction before. Clients who suddenly realize they’re getting exactly what they asked for, and then get cold feet.
“I’m going to lose my job over this.”
“On the contrary.” Theo grasped her forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If you testify as to what you were told in your meeting with the administration—and we play the tape that backs you up—you’ll have the safest job at Harwood. They wouldn’t dare cross you again because they know they’d have to deal with me in the courtroom.” Another bit of braggadocio, but it sometimes helped give clients and witnesses the confidence they needed to come forward. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve made a career out of suing people who bully women.”
“I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this.” Celia shook her head and looked away. Then abruptly, she said, “But you’re right. This is about Hayley and all the other women this could happen to. So what do I need to do now?”
Theo was relieved. It would have been possible to proceed without Celia’s cooperation, but much easier if she was fully on board with their strategy. The more she’d discussed this case with Gloria and the rest of her team, the more they were convinced it represented an opportunity to lay a critical cornerstone for the rights of women on campus.
“Nothing for now. We need to contact Hayley’s next of kin. My investigator looked up who that is.” She checked the notes inside her portfolio. “Belinda Burkhart, her mother. Technically, she’s the only one who has legal standing to sue for wrongful death.”
Celia’s face fell. “Uh-oh…that could be a problem.”
It was obvious from her wrinkled forehead that Theo’s earlier optimism was gone. “Are you seriously telling me Hayley herself was the product of a rape?”
“Apparently. I just found out this morning.”
“Who told you this?”
“Hayley’s friend Michael, the guy I told you about who went to the party with her. He’s gay. And also one of my students. Theater kids…they’re close-knit. They tell each other stuff they don’t tell anybody else. He said Hayley hadn’t even seen her mother since she was about seven.”
Theo scribbled the notes on her legal pad with the backward slant typical of left-handers. Her irritation seemed to grow worse.
“Is it that bad?” Celia asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m just annoyed my investigator didn’t tell me this.”
Something in her voice made Celia glad she wasn’t that investigator.
“Okay, the address we have for her mother is in Macon,” Theo said. “Do you have any idea who she lives with?”
“I’m guessing it’s a group home for developmental disabilities. But that’s not where the rape happened. Hayley was born in Brunswick, so her mom must have been in a facility there at the time. Michael said she was raped either by another resident or a staff member. They never found out which. The family filed a lawsuit against the state and got a settlement. Hayley’s grandmother didn’t believe in abortion, so when Hayley was born, she took custody and raised her. But then the grandmother died five or six years ago and Hayley had to go to a foster home till she finished high school.”
Celia had thought it an incredible story, one that explained a lot about Hayley’s lack of emotional support as she struggled with the trauma of her attack. Sadly, she also knew that brand of isolation all too well.
“There has to be a conservator, somebody who makes decisions on the mother’s behalf. An aunt or uncle, a cousin? Or maybe it’s just a social worker.”
“Not a clue.”
“We’ll need to interview Michael. He probably has a lot of firsthand information about the night it happened.”
Celia shook her head. “I’m not sure he’ll do it. Don’t get me wrong—he’s totally on board with telling us whatever he can about Hayley. He just doesn’t want to get called to testify. I’m pretty sure he’s protecting a boyfriend, somebody on the basketball team. That’s how he got hold of the tape.”
“That’s absurd—and it’s not going to fly, Celia.” A surprisingly curt reply, followed by what seemed like a deliberate softening. “It’s just that we can’t make our case without the video, and we can’t present it without telling the court how we acquired it. I take it his boyfriend’s in the closet.”
“That would be my guess.”
“Clearly the video bothered both of them enough to come forward, and they had to know the authorities would eventually see it. Now they need to understand what’s at stake here. I can play hardball if I have to—leak it to the press and name names—but I’d rather have them on our side willingly. Will you try to set up a private meeting for me? I’ll need both Michael
and
his boyfriend. Somewhere out of the way where they’ll feel safe to talk. I can meet them.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She had access to a backstage dressing room at the community theater house. “This could ruin their lives, you know. Not Michael—he’s out. His boyfriend though…we can’t possibly know what he’s up against at home. Or how the rest of the team’s going to react.”
“That’s why we do everything in private. We weigh one against the other.” She held up her cell phone. “Privacy matters now, Celia. No communicating with me by text or email. Pick up the phone if you need to talk. Not just to me—anyone else involved in the case. That goes for Michael too. And don’t ever leave anything but a callback message. It doesn’t matter how many times we talk to each other, but they can’t know the substance of what we say.”
Theo went on to explain their legal circumstances—the fact that Celia was a witness, not a client, meant they weren’t entitled to privileged communications. That was true also of her written messages with Michael. Everything was subject to discovery if the defense claimed she was conspiring with Michael to make false allegations.
“Believe me, Celia, they’ll do everything they can to discredit you, or to intimidate you into withdrawing from the case—especially when they realize you made this audiotape.”
Celia slumped in her chair, her mind racing with the potential ramifications. But with Theo ready to do battle on a dead girl’s behalf, it seemed trivial to worry about her own fallout. “I guess that’s part of their game. It’s not enough that they trashed Hayley. They have to drag all her friends through the mud too. No wonder people don’t come forward when shit like this happens.”
“You came forward, Celia. If Hayley gets any justice at all, it’ll be because of you.”
* * *
Frustration and helplessness were common among the women she represented, Theo reflected—even those like Celia who weren’t actually victims. A deflated sense of self-worth was so ingrained that many of them felt defeated before their claims were ever argued. Sometimes it was all she could do to convince them not to settle for crumbs.
She rested her chin on her hands, readying herself for the speech she gave everyone before formally launching their case. It was important to prepare victims and witnesses for what was coming. “I won’t kid you, Celia. No case is ever a slam-dunk, even when all the evidence is in our favor. The administration is going to fight us every step of the way, and so will the players. They’ll say terrible things about Hayley. They’ll twist your words so hard, your own mother will think you’re lying.”
Celia sat solemnly, her expression like that of a teenage girl who was being scolded.
“We have to stay focused, no matter how difficult it gets. Once we go forward, we’re all in—no letting up. This isn’t just for Hayley. It’s for the right of women on campuses everywhere to control their bodies. For their right to feel safe and to know our laws and institutions will protect them.” She jabbed her finger into the table to emphasize her words. “The universities, the police, the courts. We’re sending a message that says there will be hell to pay if you turn away and let this happen.”
“I’m in already, Theo. You don’t have to convince me.”
She hadn’t realized until that moment she’d been gritting her teeth, lecturing Celia as she would a jury. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. What I’m trying to say is I’ve been down this road before and they don’t scare me. I promise you we’ll be ready for them.”
“I have no doubt.” Celia smiled for the first time since they’d met, tipping her head to the side in way that made her look girlish.
Theo sensed it again, that feeling she’d had in her office that she knew Celia from somewhere else. “This is totally off the subject but I can’t stop thinking you look familiar. Is there any chance we’ve met before? Were you ever on one of my juries? Or at a civic club or something where I spoke? I give talks every now and then to women’s groups.”
“Definitely not. I would have remembered meeting you.” The words carried a suggestive tone, and Celia’s eyes widened. “Because you’re famous, I mean.”
“Hmm…I forget that. But I’m pretty good with faces. If we’ve never met, then you have a twin somewhere.”
Celia hissed in a deep breath and held it for a second. “Okay…it’s possible you’ve seen me before, but it would have been a long time ago. A very long time…and I’ve changed a lot.” She winced, apparently contemplating whether or not to spill a secret.
“That’s it. Now you
have
to tell me.” She hadn’t intended to meet with Celia for more than a few minutes, but found herself in no hurry to go.
“You know I teach performance studies, right? Acting, directing, stage management, TV craft.” Celia stared sheepishly at her hands as they twirled her wineglass. “I grew up in LA. When I was a kid, I had my own TV show on KidStop.”
The mention of the children’s network triggered an avalanche of memories, namely Theo fighting with her brothers over the remote control. “Oh…my…God! You’re
Little CeCe
. I watched you every day after school. I can’t believe this. I wanted to be just like you.”
“No, you wanted to be like
her
. She was a Hollywood illusion. Sorry to crack the fantasy, but the real Celia was a screwed-up kid who went to work every day in the showbiz cesspool. And like most kids whose mothers whored them out to Hollywood, I went home to a cesspool too.”
That didn’t sound good—and Theo wanted every last detail. “I always wondered what happened to you. And why the hell did they cancel your show? It was the biggest thing on TV for girls my age and all of a sudden it just vanished.”
Celia brazenly cupped her breasts and lifted them. “Because Little CeCe started getting these boobs when she was only eleven.”
Theo felt somewhat guilty that she’d already noticed Celia’s breasts, which strained against her top. They were quite large for such a slender woman.
“There were a couple of sickos on the production team who found that development a little too interesting, if you catch my drift. But the network brass didn’t want an after-school show about puberty. Thank God for small favors.”
“Seriously? You had your own TV show and you’re complaining about it? That’s every kid’s dream.”
“Trust me, it isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Imagine being eight or ten years old and working all day on a set where everybody forgets that you just want to play with your friends or watch some TV of your own. And your mom feeds you carrots and celery for lunch so you won’t get fat and lose your gig. I was the golden goose, the one who paid the mortgage. That’s a lot of pressure for a kid.”
Miraculously, the animated expressions and powerful voice were still the same after thirty years. At least they seemed that way to Theo, who was ticking off her favorite episodes in her head.
“I feel like a fangirl meeting my idol. You’re not going to believe this, but watching your show is what made me realize the world treated women differently. Before that, I thought it was just because my brothers were jerks. Remember that episode about the baseball team? The boys kept jumping in front of the girls to make all the plays. And one of them snatched the ball out of your hands before you could throw it. You got all the girls together and told them just to stand around, not to even swing when you were batting. The boys ended up having to beg for your help, and then you made the game-saving catch.”
Celia laughed and nodded along. “I remember, but again…that wasn’t me. It was Little CeCe. The real Celia Monroe never played baseball a day in her life.”
“That’s right. Your name used to be Monroe. You changed it.”
“I changed it back to my birth name,” she explained. “Kyle Monroe was my stepfather. And my manager. Turned out he embezzled most of my earnings and left my mom and me flat broke. We could have used a Theo Constantine back then.”
“Where is he now? I’ll kick his ass.”
“Probably out in the Nevada desert somewhere under a pile of rocks. We only found out about the embezzling because some goons came looking for him after he racked up a bunch of gambling debts in Vegas. The asshole didn’t even show up for my mom’s funeral.” She glanced away pensively and shook her head. “Between them, they were a real Hollywood power couple—she was alcohol, he was cocaine.”
Theo’s initial perception of Celia Perone was effectively shattered. She was no helpless damsel in need of a knight to fight her battle, but a gutsy survivor who’d probably been forced to scrape for everything she ever got. No wonder she was outraged by what happened to Hayley Burkhart. Both of them had overcome so much to get where they were.
“This is going to take a little getting used to,” Theo said. “It’s not every day I get such a blast from the past. Seriously, what happened after your show? Did you work on anything else?”
“Not that anyone would remember…at least I hope not. Ever hear of
Bloody Night in Hell
? One of those teen slasher flicks. Unfortunately, I did the sequel too.”
“I missed those.” Theo couldn’t resist scribbling the title on her notepad. “But I’m going to download them this weekend.”
“Oh, please don’t do that—for your own sake. They were worse than awful. You’ll never get those four hours back.”
“The more you protest, the more determined I am to see them.” Admittedly, she’d never been a fan of the horror genre. Too much violence against women, many of whom were scantily dressed—if they were dressed at all. “You aren’t running around naked, are you?”