Chapter 67
Chapter sixty-seven
Better The Devil You Know
Sophia
I’m sitting in the back of Avery’s SUV reading GG’s stupid blog blast for the second time, more angry tears threatening to spill by the second.
“Seriously, how does she turn these bullshit posts around so quickly?” I splutter. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do on a Saturday night than make a spectacle out of people’s lives in the name of entertainment and ‘news’ for the internet?”
“I hope there’s a special place in hell for her,” says Stella.
“I’m pretty sure Belmont Media is a silent investor now,” states Evie.
“Her page views and clicks generate a lot of ad revenue, so she’s going to continue writing what sells, and that’s salacious gossip with a side of scandal.
But then again, to be fair, the blog played a big part in exposing and putting an end to some harmful criminal activity, too.
Remember that crypto Ponzi scheme swindling rich kids out of hundreds and thousands of dollars?
Gigi led the campaign to find the losers behind it. ”
She’s not wrong on both fronts. I guess this one just hits too close to home.
No one wants their worst heartbreak spilled over the internet.
I can’t stop thinking about the last line of the blast. It was almost like she was asking me to seek her out.
What Evie said about Gigi being responsible for using her platform for justice strikes a chord.
Without thinking twice, I quickly type out a DM and press send.
“This is us,” says Evie as we slow to a stop at the apartment block both my friends live in.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Soph?” asks Stella. “You can stay with me if you need time to clear your head.”
“No. This is something I need to deal with head on,” I say with more conviction than I truly have.
Stella’s giggling distracts me momentarily.
“Speaking of facing things head on, I wonder how Raf is handling a drunk Chiara. Oh God, to be a fly on the wall!” She pins me with a devilish look.
“While you were off getting fucked six ways to Sunday, she was giving that man a run for his money. It’s like dynamite waiting to explode whenever those two are near each other. ”
“Some sass and spice might be exactly what the grump needs.” I laugh, putting on a brave face at the reminder of how perfect everything was just hours ago.
Almost like I was living in an alternate universe, and maybe I have been the whole time.
Maybe the reality is, I saw all the red flags and just ignored them anyway.
The heart wants what the heart wants, and mine has always wanted to be loved by Marco Marrone.
“I hazard a guess he would highly disagree,” chimes in Evie.
Tuning serious, she leans over to hug me.
“I know what Marco did feels like betrayal, but let him explain, Sophia. You of all people know how persuasive your father can be. At least let him tell you exactly what happened.” She pulls away and looks me in the eye.
“Let us know how everything goes, and just call if you need us.”
My Instagram notification chimes. Gigi accepted my invitation for a nightcap.
“Avery, I need to take a quick meeting at Le Sip before you take me ho—” The word dies on my tongue because everything that’s led to this point feels like a fever dream turned nightmare. “Before you take me back to Marco’s.”
He meets my eye in the rearview mirror and simply nods to confirm. When we arrive, he jumps out to open my door.
“I’ll be waiting right out here,” he says as I pass him and walk towards the entrance. “Sophia,” he says in a deep, commanding voice. I turn back to face him. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but just know, when it comes to Marco, all roads lead to you.”
I blink away tears before turning around and continuing towards the door.
That’s how I find myself at Le Sip waiting for Gia Fucking Girmaldi AKA Cunty-McCunt Face.
My thoughts are racing, and flashbacks of Marco’s devastated face flicker behind my eyes.
They clear when I spot my guest making her way over to the booth.
She’s tall and willowy, wearing a stylish black dress that hangs off her body.
Studded flats and a Chanel 2.55 complete her look.
Expensive hair extensions are curled with tousled perfection and her makeup is dewy.
She’s an attractive woman even though everything to date has led me to believe she has an ugly soul.
Yet, what Evie said struck a chord with me.
People listen to her. She has reach and influence.
Yes, she uses it to spread gossip, but will she use it to expose the truth?
Time will tell, because what I’m about to propose gives her the opportunity to prove me wrong.
“Hello, Sophia. I must say, I was surprised to receive your message after your eventful evening.”
“I was surprised you didn’t attend the event tonight, yet you still seemed to have all the tea to spill,” I retort. “I took the liberty of ordering us a drink. New York Sour seemed a fitting choice for a nightcap.”
“Nothing sweeter. One of my favorites,” she says, not missing a beat.
A wicked smile plays on her lips, and she leans forward conspiratorially.
“We’re friends, right?” she says, arching a brow but not allowing time for me to answer.
“So full disclosure amongst friends. I’d much rather let the interns ravenous to climb the social ladder dress up and mingle with Manhattan’s finest assholes.
Be my eyes and ears on the ground while I stay home in my velour sweats, sipping wine on my couch, watching Sex And The City reruns and waiting for their updates.
When I get the best material from them, I’ll fashion it into an irresistible piece of art, adding a flourish of color the same way one might add a slick of lipstick before they head out the door.
Then I’ll send that pretty thing out into the world like a proud mama and watch as it gets more views than any other online publication in the country. ”
I can’t help my own sly smile from spreading.
She’s a smooth operator. I’ll give her that.
“Ahhh, so what you’re saying is that we were extremely lucky to have you grace us with your actual presence at the New Year’s Eve event at Bella Donna?
” I ask, determined to keep this conversation moving in the direction I need it to go.
“Actually, I accepted the invite from our mutual acquaintance, Arty.” She returns serve, staring imploringly at me.
I keep my expression neutral. After tonight’s post, I get a sense she’s all too aware there is no love lost between our group and Arty, and she’s testing the waters.
“As you’re aware, his plans to be the winning bachelor at your dad’s New Year’s Eve party were foiled when the Belle of the ball ran off with the Beast.” She smirks at her own joke.
“But I can understand your choice. Six years is a long time to wait for Princess Princi.”
Her smile and expression soften, and I’m thrown a little by seeing a more human side to a woman I had completely demonized in my mind.
“Listen, Sophia, I’m just going to cut this dance short and take my shot at setting the record straight.
I write gossip. I need scandal to make the gossip worth reading.
I need to produce something that is worth reading because I have bills to pay.
I don’t come from wealth like you. I have clawed my way to be part of the circles you were born into.
Honestly, I like you. I’d even audition to be the fifth band member if the opportunity arose.
But, for now, I’m going to just tell you as many hard truths as I can, and you can get to the point of all this,” she says, waving a hand between us.
I keep my guard up, even if I feel like I am seeing the real GG.
I pick my drink up and take a sip, nodding over the rim to indicate I’m listening and that she can continue.
The more she speaks, the more time I buy to decide how much I say and to what level I am going to make her part of the plan I’ve hatched.
“Marco is a good man, and I’m thrilled he got the one thing he’s wanted forever.
Did you know that he literally kept my little blog running for the first three years by effectively paying for sponsored posts?
Ones that blasted out pictures of him with various women on his arm, speculation about who he was dating, who he was fucking, commentary and running polls about who might tame the eternal bachelor.
He did all that to create a picture that he was a playboy.
To make you loathe him and make you want to stay away from Manhattan until you graduated from Harvard.
He did all that at the expense of his own happiness.
Seb got his dream club, and you got to experience new-found independence.
In doing so, it kept your dad off everyone’s back.
” She pauses and opens her bag, pulling out a pack of tissues and handing me one.
It’s only then I realize that I’m crying.
Fucking hell! So much for my tough girl act.
“So yeah, it was never my intention to be on Marco’s bad side.
We had a harmonious, mutually beneficial thing going on.
No strings attached. No sex,” she adds, giving me a wink before her expression turns more somber.
“That is until he gave me a story about Arty Bartholomew Jones and his...extracurriculars...and said he would pay me anything to expose him. I was mortified at the information he’d given me.
Absolutely sickened to the stomach, and even more so for the fact I knew the story was dead in the water, regardless of how much he’d pay me.
Up until that point in time, I was independently owned, but I had just signed on the dotted line to have Belmont Media as an investor.
I needed that capital to grow, but it also meant they had editorial discretion over my content.
Given their son’s friendship with Arty, the story was buried immediately,” she finishes ruefully.
She takes a big swig of her drink, almost like she needs it to compose herself after that moment of truth.
“Thank you. I appreciate your candor,” I say, before taking a big swig of my drink for Dutch courage.
“What would you say if I told you there was a way to make up for the regret of killing that story. To use your platform to take down a predator and get justice?”
“I’d say...tell me how I can help, because as of midnight, my little old blog got backing from a new angel investor. Someone you might know very well.”