“I guess it’s a good thing for him you don’t need a big brain or a big dick to make it in Hollywood.”
“Don’t you know, Tori? That’s why all the action heroes carry the big guns. Overcompensation is real.”
“Don’t I know it.”
She grows serious then, her voice losing its indignation. “How are you doing? Honestly?”
I start to do glib again, start to tell her that I’m just fine. But this is Chloe and I’ve always been shit at lying to her. This time when the tears come, they’re all about rage and fear and a hurt I barely allow myself to feel.
“I’m just so mad, you know? I’m just so fucking mad!”
“Damn right you are. He’s a total…” She pauses like she’s searching for an insult bad enough to describe Alexander.
I sniff a little. “Your brother called him a life-sized dick.”
“My brother is a smart man. Disgustingly descriptive, mind you, but also very, very smart.”
This time I laugh through the tears instead of the other way around. And somehow, despite all the shit that has happened today, it really does make things a little better. Or maybe that’s my best friend doing that. My best friend and her brother, if I’m being honest, since Miles—surprisingly—seems to have my back in this situation, too.
Because I don’t know quite how I feel about that, I concentrate on telling Chloe everything—including my stupid suggestion that Alexander leak a sex tape to raise his profile. In typical Chloe style, she hears me out without interruption. But just because she isn’t saying anything doesn’t mean she isn’t listening. I can all but see her lawyer’s brain working through possible scenarios as I pour everything out.
Somehow, telling her makes everything better. But it also makes everything worse, because it makes it real in a way that nothing else has.
Since I got here, I’ve tried not to think about just how awful a predicament I’m in, figuring tomorrow morning is soon enough to deal with this mess. But laying it all out for Chloe like this, waiting as she thinks it all through, makes it hard not to think about what a mess my life currently is.
It also makes it even harder not to panic.
I can feel it welling up inside me, can feel the edges of it—hard and scared and uncompromising—brushing against my stomach, my heart, the inside of my skin. I refuse to give in to it, refuse to let it out into the world for anyone else to see, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Doesn’t mean my brain isn’t beating a constant mantra of what am I going to do, what am I going to do inside my skull.
And still, even as the panic rises, I know that—despite everything—I’m luckier than a lot of people. I might have lost everything this morning, but at least I have a place to stay. And people that care about me. It’s more than a lot of people have, and I need to concentrate on that instead of on the fear that’s dogged me ever since my father hit the PLAY button on his phone this morning.
It’s not until I’m done, until I’ve spilled out every word of the sordid, awful story, that I realize my knees are practically knocking together. At this point, I’m smart enough to know that there’s no fighting the shakiness, so I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the ground, my knees tucked up to my chest and Miles’s phone pressed to my ear like a lifeline as I wait for Chloe to speak.
She takes her time, mulling things over like she always does. And when she finally does speak, she asks the one question I’m not prepared to answer.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t—what do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re in the middle of a perfect storm of absolute fuckery. Between Alexander, your father, and the reporters who scent blood in the water, you’re pretty much screwed.”
“Wow, I feel so much better now. Thanks.”
“I’m just telling you how it is.”
“Believe me, I know exactly how it is. That’s why I’m currently hiding out at your place with your brother. Do you really think I’d stay with Miles if I had any other options?”
“Miles isn’t so bad, Tor. Do you know that he’s got a bunch of bots crawling the Internet, finding each and every posting of that damn video so he can go in and destroy it?”
“What?” My heart nearly stops in my chest. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that he spent hours early this morning setting up a system to take down that video nearly as fast as it went up. He’s even hacked into some of the bigger gossip sites and destroyed their links to it.”
“I don’t—I can’t—” I’m overwhelmed, my brain working to process what she’s telling me. Working to process what is the absolute last thing I expected to hear. “How do you know? Did he tell you this?”
“He didn’t have to. Once we heard about the video, Ethan started to do the same thing. But someone had beat him to it, someone whose manner of coding he recognized right away.”
“Miles.”