text: Everything is random, until it isn’t. Chantey knows this all too well. That’s why she’s sitting alone in a diner with her brown eyes glued to the front door. Every minute she’s checking the time on her phone, and nervously tapping her feet. As she looked over her shoulder for the fourth time, she ran her fingers through her permed dark hair. Her nerves were so on edge, Chantey nearly jumped out her skin when the waitress said, hello. “Can I get you anything?” A young black waitress asked with her hands on her hips. Chantey’s eyes darted back and forth between the waitress and the front door. She cracked a partial simile and replied, “I’m just waiting on somebody.” “My boss said that rent has to be paid on these booths. So, you have to order something, or wait outside,” the waitress said pulling out a pen and flipping open a pad. Chantey sighed as she looked around the greasy spoon restaurant and noticed that every booth was filled. Customers licking fingers and smacking lips as they enjoyed Herb’s Louisiana Catfish. She had picked this place because it was way out in Brooklyn. Far from her college campus in Queens, so that no one would recognize her or her protégé. Chantey picked up the sticky menu and said, “Just give me some fries and a coke.” The bell chime at the front door went off and in walked a tall, lanky, man, wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt, Converse All-stars, and fedora hat. His white skinned looked like he was in desperate need of a tan. When Chantey saw him, she stood up and waived to get his attention. He quickly made his way over to the table and slid into the booth across from her. “What’s up Tey?” Corey said locking eyes with her. “It’s about time,” she said sitting on the edge of her seat. Chantey eagerly asked, “Did you get it?” Corey’s face curled into a smile, “My word is bond. If I tell you there’s cheese on the moon, go get your crackers.” “Whatever boy,” Chantey replied with a chuckle and dismissive waive. Then she reached out with an open left hand and said, “Come on with it.” Corey reached into the small of his back and pulled out a folded manila envelope. And just as he was about to place it in her hand, he pulled it back and asked, “What you got for me?” Chantey shook her head. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a freshly typed paper that was neatly stapled. As she slid the paper across the table she said, “I almost forgot. One lit term-paper breaking down, The Catcher in the Rye and its significance on 20 th century literature.” Corey took the paper and thumbed through it with a smile. He nodded while saying, “Cool, cool.” Then he handed the enveloped to Chantey. “Here you go. I hope you know what I had to go through to get this for you. If the administration found out, I’d be expelled.” “You have any idea how long it took me to write that paper. We even.” “It’s not that. I’m just saying. Since you’re an aspiring journalist and all, I hope my name stays out of this.” “You’re a source. I would go jail before I would reveal a source. Your secret is safe with me.” “Cool. Just let me know if there’s anything I could do for you in the future,” he said gently touching her smooth dark-skinned hands, “And I do mean anything.” Chantey glanced up with a smirk, “I like my men tall, dark, muscular, and handsome. You only got one out of four. Sorry honey.” Chantey took the envelope and went straight to the editor of her school newspaper, Justin Copeland. Justin was a graduate assistant, and was the one who gave out the assignments. She rushed to his office and pounded on the door before letting herself in. “Justin, you won’t believe what I got,” Chantey announced, barely able to contain her excitement. Justin stopped typing and turned around from his small desk that faced the wall. He adjusted his black rim glassed and hooked his long blonde hair behind his ears. Offering Chantey a seat next to him, he gave her his undivided attention. “I was able to get my hands on these reports,” she stated as she handed him the envelope. “Three woman who went to coach Franklin and reported they were sexually assaulted by a member of the football team.” While Justin read through the pages, he asked, “How did you get these?” “A true reporter never reveals her source,” she answered with a smile. Justin finished reading and exhaled loudly. Shaking his head, he handed Chantey back the paper. “Chantey, you were supposed to be writing an article on the life of coach Jim Franklin. Highlighting his accomplishments for his twenty years at the university. Not digging up unfounded dirt on him.” “But Justin, he knew what happened to these girls and he buried it. We have to follow up. Report it,” she pleaded with her words and her eyes. “You have a redacted report. So you don’t have the names of the alleged victims or the accused. The details of the alleged act are generic. Do you have any other sources, other than the person that gave you these reports?” “No,” Chantey replied with her head hanging down. “You have to have at least three confirmed sources for us to publish anything. Look, I applaud your effort. But Chantey, this is a small school newspaper. Not the Washington post. You’re not Bob Woodward, and this isn’t Watergate. Coach Franklin is the most powerful man on campus. He’s beloved. He’s well respected and connected. And he could kill this article before it’s even printed. And, he could have both of us kicked out of school for even suggesting he had anything to do with this. My suggestion to you, forget about this,” Justin said holding up the files. “And get back to writing your original article.” Chantey sat there with her legs crossed, dejected. She had on a cute pair of black legging that accentuated her curvy body. This caught Justin’s attention. He licked his lips before casually placing his hand on her knee. “I’ll be more than happy to help you get back on track. I’m free this evening. Maybe you can come by my place later and we can work on it together,” Justin smoothly offered with a sly grin as his hand inched up her thigh. Chantey grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand back as she rose to her feet, “I think I got it. But thanks.” Chantey quickly exited his office and went back to the dorm. She was use to men coming on to her, but not to having her ideas dismissed. Determined, Chantey pushed Justin’s words and actions out of her head. She walked in her tiny room, and was relieved that her nosey roommate was out. She took a seat at the small desk and placed the reports side by side to look for any clues. There wasn’t much to go by. The reports were generic. Just a date, time, the accusation, and the name of the Amanda Lewis. The secretary who logged the report. She racked her brain on where to start. Then it hit her. She grabbed her things and went to the athletic department. One the way, she stopped by the cafeteria and grabbed a hand full of onions from the salad bar. She messed up her hair a little, and rubbed the onions on her eyes. Pulling a hood over her head, she went through the lobby and to the desk of Amanda Lewis. Amanda sat up straight, flashed her pearly whites, and asked, “Hello. How can I help you?” Chantey pretended to look nervous. She leaned in close and whispered, “Excuse me, but is it possible for me to speak with coach Franklin. There was an incident with one of the players I’d like to discuss with him.” Amanda looked her up and down and shook her head. She reached into her draw and handed her one of those same report sheets. Leaning forward, she whispered back, “These boys are out of control. Do me favor and fill out this form. The coach typically takes meetings on Wednesday morning during the football season.” Chantey filled out the form and handed it back to her. Then Amanda handed her a sign in sheet. Chantey noticed that the old sign in sheets were still on there. She needed a second. Thinking quickly, she coughed and acted like she was choked up, and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you?” “Sure dear.” Amanda hopped up to fetch some water. Chantey franticly searched through the pages until she found a date that match one from the last report dated, October 2 nd . She snapped a picture with her phone right before Amanda came back with a bottle of water. Chantey took the water, gave her the form, and thanked her immensely. There were five names that signed in that day, but only one belonging to a female, Heather Tyson. Chantey went to the massive student center in the middle of the campus. There were kids everywhere. Some in the lounge area studying, other in the recreation center playing pool or bowling. Chantey made her way through the crowds and into the bookstore. There she saw her roommate, Caroline. Caroline was in the stacks putting up a fresh shipment of books. Caroline looked like she was still waiting for puberty to end with a face full of acne, and glasses thicker than coke bottles. “Caroline, what’s up?” Chantey said strutting in with a big smile and leaning against the bookshelves. “I need your help with something.” “I don’t know, Tey,” Caroline said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get into any type of trouble. I know how you are.” Chantey wrapped her arm around Caroline’s shoulder and said, “Now would I let anything happen to my girl? I just need a little info. Help me out, and I’ll get you into the party that the Delta’s are throwing Saturday.” Caroline smiled, showing braces that look like railroad tracks. “What you need girl?” “I just need you to pull up the ID to a Heather Tyson. I want to talk to her about a story I’m doing. That’s all.” Caroline went into the office and pulled up the info on Heather. Chantey studied the photo of the short hair brunette with green eyes for a minute. I know this girl , she thought to herself, but she couldn’t remember from where. Chantey scribbled down the dorm number and went to her place. She was knocking on her door thirty minutes later. “Hello,” Heather said wearing a large sweatshirt with a textbook under her arms. She looked at Chantey like she knew her. “Hi, my name is Chantey. I’m with the school paper. You have a minute?” “School paper,” Heather mumbled, “That’s where I remember you. From Journalism 101.” “Yeah, that’s it. I thought I recognized you too. You mind if I come in for minute.” Heather opened the door all the way and invited her in. She sat on one twin bed while Chantey sat on the other, “So what’s up?” Chantey was silent for a minute, as she was choosing her words carefully, “I ah...I was doing a story on coach Franklin. And I came across a report that you filed with his office.” Heather’s eyes were as wide as silver dollars. “Oh my god! How did you find out?” “It’s a long story. But I know that you went to him and he buried it,” Chantey said leaning forward and grabbing her hand, “You’re not the only one.” Heather withdrew. Her eyes began to water. She stood up and paced back and forth, “You should leave.” Chantey stood up and blocked her path. “I know how difficult this is for you. But you can’t let whoever did this to you get away with it. This happened to two other women. And unless we expose him, it’ll keep happening. Please tell me your story. Maybe I can help you,” Chantey said softly with compassion in her voice. Heather closed her eyes and breathed heavily for a few minutes. She mumbled to herself. Chantey placed a hand on her shoulders, trying to comfort her. Heather grabbed a piece of tissue and dabbed her red eyes. She sat back down on the bed. Collecting herself, her voice cracked as she said, “He invited me back to his place to work on a paper. He was very nice and mannerable. He fixed me a drink. I took a couple of sips and felt woozy. Next thing I know, I wake up hours later on his couch with my shoes off, and panties pulled halfway down. And I couldn’t remember anything. I went to coach Franklin and told him what happened. And he said I probably had too much to drink and forgot what I did. But there’s no way I would’ve forgot drinking that much or sleeping with that guy. Anyway, he said it would be my word against his. And he was from a prominent family. So he convinced me to drop it.” “That’s awful. Who did this to you?” Chantey asked on the edge of the bed. “Justin Copeland.” Chantey nearly feel on her face. She was stunned. Then she remembered that Justin played football last year as a senior. Incredible. And he just tried to lure her to his place. Chantey stayed the evening with Heather. And they both cried and hugged and talked some more until curfew. Later that evening, Chantey sat at her desk, typing away. She had written a magnificent story. But there was no way this story would never get printed with the coach and now Justin in the way. He needed to be exposed. Then it her. She had a plan. Chantey showed up at Justin’s office two days later. She had some tight shorts that hugged every curve she had. And she had on a low-cut blouse that barely contained her cleavage. She took a seat in front of him. Chantey was so hot that when she crossed her legs, she could’ve started a fire. She handed him her paper. “You were right. That report was bullshit. I’m back focus. Trying to get this finished. What do you think?” Justin damn near went cross-eyed from looking at her thighs and her paper at the same time, “It looks good. But you still need to clean it up a little. My offer still stands. I’m free in the evening if you want to come by. We can knock this out tonight.” Chantey smiled and cut her eyes at him. “You know what, I’m going to take you up on your offer.” “Cool. Here, let me write down my address. And you can come by tonight around seven,” he suggested. * Justin was excited when saw that Chantey showed up at seven on the dot wearing the same outfit. Justin eagerly invited her in. He showed her around, then she followed him into his kitchen area. “Make yourself home,” Justin said as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Chantey lips curled into a smile. “Can you do me a favor?” “Anything.” Chantey was rubbing her hands together. “I left my purse at my place. And my hands feel real dry. Could I trouble you for some lotion?” “Sure,” Justin went into his bedroom and grabbed a bottle of lotion from his dresser. He looked at his teeth to make sure nothing was in them, then he grabbed some tic-tacs and popped a few in his mouth. Excited, he skipped into the kitchen and handed Chantey the lotion. Then he offered, “I was going to have some wine. You care for some?” “Yeah. By the way. Do you mind if I use your restroom?” “Of course, It’s the second door on the left.” Chantey went to the bathroom and Justin pulled out a bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass. Peeping around the corner to see if she was coming, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a pill, rufilin. He dropped it into her drink, and it quickly disintegrated. Just as he finished, she came strolling back to the kitchen. He handed her the spiked drink while taking a sip of his own. Going into the living room, Justin turned on his record player and put on some smooth jazz. He went back in the kitchen. “This wine tastes good. What kind is it?” Chantey asked licking her lips. “Pinot noir,” Justin answered with a devilish grin. Chantey started blinking feverishly. She stood up and staggered, “I feel a little woozy.” Justin grabbed her arms and steered her toward the couch. “Why don’t you take a seat in here.” A few minutes later Chantey was out. Justin was rubbing his hands together as he stood over her. He ran into the bedroom and got a bottle of KY jelly. He slipped off his pants and applied the lubricant. Then he twisted her body around and began to unbutton her shorts. Just as he was about to pull them down, there was a knock at the door. Yanking his pants up, he stumbled over to the door and cracked it open. “Yes.” The campus police busted through the door and pushed him against the wall, “Justin Copeland, you are under arrest for attempted rape!” Confused, Justin yelled out, “What are you talking about!” “We talking about this you sick bastard!” Chantey said hopping to her feet and handing the police the spiked drink. Then she pointed to her phone that was propped up by the cookie jar recording everything. Justin bowed his head and shouted, “Fuck!” The End