Some Things Never Change [SHAWN MENDES]

September 7, 2021

Ceci had stayed with me for most of the day following the concert, and other than when we took a break to shower and eat, we'd been in bed. I'd lost track of how many times we'd had sex, but by noon we'd run out of condoms. Neither of us minded finding other ways to give and receive pleasure. When she left, she'd kissed me goodbye with a finality that told me this wouldn't be happening again anytime soon.

Our sexual relationship was like a tea kettle. The pressure inside us built up like steam, and eventually it had to be released or else we'd explode. Things then returned to a simmer, though it was inevitable that it would rise again. The longer we waited to let off the steam, the higher intensity the sex was.

A couple days later, I was sitting on my terrace having coffee when my phone started vibrating. I looked at it and saw that it was Andrew.

"What's up?"

"I had a very distressing phone conversation this morning," he said, his voice tight.

"About what?" I asked.

"Trevor Pullman, the man who was driving the pickup truck that plowed into Ceci's car, called me and is essentially attempting to extort you with selling information to the tabloids."

I sat upright in the lounge chair. "Okay, but that's not that big a deal, right? The fact that she was in an accident isn't a secret."

"Unfortunately there's a lot more to it. He knew she was pregnant."

I felt like I'd been sucker-punched in the gut. "How? I thought that was confidential medical information?"

"He was getting checked out for a head contusion and overheard a paramedic say that the victim who was being transported to the hospital was pregnant and that there was no fetal heartbeat," Andrew explained.

I got up and moved inside even though I was fairly certain no one could hear our conversation. "But why now? I don't get why he'd suddenly be compelled to sell the story or why it would even be newsworthy."

"Because of you. He has no proof, but he connected the dots after seeing the fan footage from the other night. Your emotional break-down went viral, as you know. When you ran off stage to hug Ceci, he recognized her as the woman he'd hit. Then he did a search and saw that you'd flown to Toronto after the accident and canceled multiple concerts. He also found several pictures of the two of you together over the years. He came to conclusion, which happens to be the correct one, that you were the father of the baby Ceci lost. Now he wants five hundred thousand dollars or he'll sell the story to the highest bidder."

"That fucker is trying to profit off our grief! There's no recourse for that?" I asked.

"It's a tricky situation. We could contact the police, but he'll still sell the story and use the proceeds to cover any legal fees or fines for attempted extortion. If we ignore his request, he said the story will hit the internet in twenty-four hours."

"So you think we should pay him?"

"No. You never want to give in to an extortionist because they'll keep coming back for more money," Andrew said.

"So what exactly are you proposing we do?"

"You and Ceci have two options," he started. "The first is that you tell Pullman to fuck off and let him sell his story. We know it's true, but all the tabloids can do is say it's speculation. They have no proof the baby was yours."

"But people like to believe shit like that," I said.

"Yes, and we couldn't issue a denial because it's factual. It would ruin your image if it came out later that you'd lied. I'll talk to a couple public relations lawyers, but I think the best thing to do, if you choose the first option, is to simply say 'no comment' and hope the story dies out quickly."