Prologue
How many wayscould you kill someone in your mind? Nikki and I had gotten creative over the past few months, coming up with some real gems.
“Buried alive with fire ants,” I said, burrowing deeper into the overstuffed couch in her tiny apartment.
She scoffed from her spot, sprawled on the floor, wineglass precariously balanced in her hand. “Not nearly bad enough. I’m going with…eaten by piranhas, starting with his dick.”
I snorted, taking a sip of my drink. “Maybe he could just choke on his lies,” I muttered.
Nikki sat up in one swift move, her red hair flying around her face and wine sloshing out of the glass. At least it was white and not red. Even though she was tipsy, her eyes narrowed on me in a now familiar way. One that managed to be both fierce and gentle. She was the kind of best friend who had your back—one of the few who hadn’t been swayed by Brendan’s bullshit.
“You need to tell someone. Someone who can actually do something to his ass. Or I’m going to run him over with my car,” Nikki grumbled, setting her wineglass on the coffee table.
I squeezed my knees to my chest, trying to take comfort in the pressure as if I could hug myself out of my current situation. “And say what? I’m getting heavy-breathing phone calls from an unknown number?”
“Sel, he got you freaking fired. From a job you worked your ass off for.”
I had. Undergrad in business. Masters in nonprofit business management. Countless hours of unpaid internships and volunteer work. All to land a job at my dream organization: The Literacy Project. But all that had gone down the tubes this morning when I found out I’d been fired.
“There’s no proof,” I said softly. But an ache took root in my chest. I knew Nikki was right, even though there wasn’t a shred of evidence. Brendan’s fingers stretched far, and his grip could be strangulating.
Nikki let out a huff of air. “You know it’s him. Tossing money around and pulling strings.”
I worried the corner of my lip as pressure built around me—as if I were being suffocated by the air itself. It was starting to feel like Brendan was everywhere. I’d thought breaking up with him would be the end of it. That I’d be free. But it had only been the beginning.
“This has to be it,” I said, finally meeting her eyes. “He won. And I think that’s what he’s wanted all along. Maybe I can finally move on.”
I just wasn’t sure where that would be. Los Angeles didn’t feel like home anymore. For so long, I’d loved living here. The live music scene, museums, and amazing restaurants with every type of cuisine imaginable. I’d always felt like I could melt into the sea of people and get lost in their diverse uniqueness. Now, it felt like every single pair of eyes could be watching.
“Maybe,” Nikki mumbled.
I leaned over the coffee table and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for being the bestest friend a girl could have.”
She just scowled at me. “I want to junk-punch him before I throw him to the piranhas.”
I choked on a laugh. “Have at it.”
But the laugh quickly died away. I’d only told Nikki bits and pieces of the bad stuff. If she knew it all, she really would be gassing up her car for a hit-and-run. But knowing that just made me love her more.
I stood, picking up my wineglass and emptying its contents. “I need to get home. It’s almost time for Moose’s dinner.”
Nikki shook her head. “Better keep that beast fed. If you don’t, he’s liable to take off a toe in your sleep.”
That had a genuine smile stretching my face as I carried my glass to her sink. “He’d never.”
Nikki grunted as she struggled to her feet. “Keep telling yourself that. You ordered a car, right?”
I shook my head. “I switched to Fresca after my first glass.”
Her mouth fell open. “You bitch. I’ve been getting sloshed, and you’re sipping freaking Fresca?”
I chuckled as I pulled Nikki into a hug. “Sorry, babycakes.”
The truth was, I never had more than a single glass of wine these days. My anxiety had already reached the red zone, and I needed all my faculties.
Nikki hugged me tighter. “Want me to come with you? I can sleep on your couch tonight.”
God, she was an amazing friend. “I’ll be fine. I’ll probably stay up late looking at what other nonprofits might be hiring.”
Nikki held on, not letting go. “You’re an amazing person. Don’t let his bullshit make you think anything else.”
My eyes burned, tears struggling to break free. I did everything I could to beat them back. Because there were times that I’d started to wonder if I was, in fact, the person Brendan said I was. That I was manipulative, cruel, sick, and a slut.
Two years ago, I would’ve laughed if someone had said I’d think those things about myself. It was shocking how fast things could change. How quickly a mind could be twisted. And how long it took to undo that kind of damage.
“Love you, Niks,” I whispered.
“Love you, too,” she said, finally releasing me. “Text me when you get home, or call if you want someone to talk to while you’re getting inside.”
The burn was back, tears fighting to fall. She’d been the recipient of more than one phone call when I freaked myself out thinking I was being followed, only to realize it was an innocent bystander going about their business. She never complained.
“Thanks,” I said, quickly kissing her cheek and grabbing my purse.
I headed out of her small apartment on the outskirts of Silverlake and down the sidewalk toward my car. It was still plenty bright out, but my head was on a swivel, taking stock of everyone around me. There was the typical hipster fare, a couple making out near a café, a family with two young kids running circles around the parents... Nothing out of the ordinary.
I still felt twitchy. I walked faster, moving toward my Subaru hatchback that had seen better days. She’d seen plenty of action before I bought her in college and had officially passed her prime now. But since I was out of a job, an upgrade wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
Beeping the locks, I slipped into the vehicle and winced at the tote bag full of produce on the floorboard. I hadn’t planned to stay at Nikki’s for as long as I had. Hopefully, the bag of farmers market finds would be all right.
Shutting the door behind me, I locked it and let out a breath. My eyes caught on my reflection in the rearview mirror. My blond hair was in disarray, and my pale green eyes had dark circles under them. But I didn’t look away, not even when my eyes filled.
“You’re a good person,” I whispered. “You’re not who he says you are.”
My phone dinged, and I fished around in my purse for the device. As I pulled it out, it chimed again, the screen lighting up. My stomach hollowed out as a text flashed on the display.
Unknown Number
Seen this? ;-)
The text had a screenshot of an article. Actor Brendan Boseman Donates One Million to The Literacy Project. My hands trembled as I scanned the short piece.
Mr. Boseman, best known for his roles in box-office-gold romcoms and superhero megahits, was captured touring the nonprofit’s West Adams location here in Los Angeles. “Reading is something I’ve always been passionate about. And being a part of The Literacy Project’s mission to give people the tools they need to succeed is an honor.”
More unshed tears burned the backs of my eyes, a mixture of anger, fear, and frustration at the blatant bullshit that streamed out of his mouth. Brendan’s idea of reading was scanning The Hollywood Reporter and cursing anyone who got a job he wanted. I couldn’t read any more. It was too much.
I’d given everything to The Literacy Project: ridiculously long hours at low pay, courting countless benefactors to keep us in the black, and jumping in on tasks that had never been in my job description. And all because I believed in their mission. And because I loved being a part of something that changed lives. Now, it was all done. Gone.
A tear slipped down my cheek and fell onto my jeans, making the indigo strands darken as it sank in. Maybe this was what I needed—the final straw to make me leave LA and start fresh. A chance to truly be free.
It wasn’t like I had anything left here other than Nikki. Everything had been slowly and deliberately stripped away. I swallowed the anger that surged, grabbing my key from the seat and sliding it into the ignition. Twisting it, I had to try three times before the engine caught.
Just one more thing I couldn’t afford to fix. But I ignored it and headed for home. Even at four in the afternoon, rush hour had already begun, turning my ten-minute drive into twenty. As I pulled up in front of the rundown fourplex, the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
I glanced around the residential street, doing my now standard scan. Nothing out of the ordinary: a couple walking their fluff ball of a mutt, a young woman pushing a stroller, a couple of teens shouting as they raced their souped-up bikes down the street.
But I felt eyes on me. Familiar anxiety took root, and quick on its heels, frustration. Because I didn’t know if the feeling was warranted or if I was losing it. I grabbed my phone and quickly typed out a text.
Me
Home. Going to feed Moose and make dinner. Make sure you eat something so you don’t wake up with a hangover from hell.
Nikki
Already ordered pad thai and pad see ew. Going to sop up all that alcohol.
My mouth tried to curve as I shut off the engine, but it couldn’t quite get there. I grabbed my purse and the tote bag with my farmers market goodies, then climbed out of my hatchback. As I slid my phone into my pocket, I did another quick scan before heading up the walk.
My gaze jumped at every flicker of movement around me as I moved, bracing. But I just kept going. It was the only answer. If I let myself fall, I knew I’d never get up.
My feet hurried across the cracked pavement and up the chipped concrete steps. Punching in the code to the building, I waited for the buzz and stepped inside. I quickly shut the door behind me, making sure it latched, then moved to the door marked 1B.
I unlocked the deadbolt, then the doorknob. When the door swung open, a beep sounded. A deep meow greeted me as I plugged in the alarm code.
“Hi, Moose,” I said to the dark room—dark because every curtain in the place was pulled.
When I landed the tiny apartment, I’d loved it for its windows—all that natural light. Now, all I had was the artificial kind.
I flicked on the switch as Moose wound through my legs. As soon as I threw the deadbolt, I bent to pick him up, grunting as I lifted all eighteen pounds of his Maine Coon self. He instantly began to purr, butting his head against my chin.
I cuddled him close, letting the sound and feel of his gray fur soothe me. “What do you think? Time to leave LA? Maybe we could land somewhere with a yard. I could teach you to walk on a leash.”
Moose let out a warbled meow as if to say: What the hell, lady?
I chuckled. “Okay, pause on the leash training. How about some dinner?”
Another meow.
I grinned as I set him down, keeping the tote bag over my shoulder. My hands trembled as I moved through the space, flicking on light after light. That slight shake told the truth. Brendan really had won.
My life here was done. The only option I had was to leave—and pray he didn’t feel vindictive enough to mess with my life wherever I landed.
I felt for the kitchen light and flicked it on. The counter was in complete disarray. Fruit from the bowl had spilled out, and I noticed an orange with what looked like teeth and claw marks in it. I gave Moose the side-eye. “Playing soccer again?”
He licked his paw and scrubbed it over his face.
Then, I saw the true goal of his mischief. The treat feeder with its camera had been knocked over, looking like it had been bashed around. I righted it and put the unharmed fruit back into the bowl.
“Seriously? The vet says you’re already overweight.”
I swore Moose glared at me. Then he let out a bellowing meow.
“Don’t give me that kind of back talk or no treats after dinner.”
He hissed.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. At least I had Moose. No matter how bad things got, he always managed to make me laugh.
Setting my tote bag on the counter, I set to work putting away my produce, trying to dodge the swipes of Moose’s paws along the way. As I tidied, I began concocting a recipe in my mind. One of my favorite challenges was coming up with something based on whatever had looked best at the farmers market.
I’d have to get more creative with my lack of salary now, but that would just make the game more challenging. We were finally in peach season, so I grabbed two. I’d also snagged some of the first mini heirloom tomatoes of the season. That, with some burrata, herbs, and balsamic, would be perfect with the crusty bread I’d bought from the local baker’s stall.
My stomach rumbled as if agreeing with my plan. As I began pulling out ingredients, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. A cacophony of dings followed—every kind of alert my phone could give. Text. Email. Phone call. All at once.
My alarm system let out a warning beep—the kind that said if I didn’t input the code in two minutes, it would go haywire. Then the stereo burst to life, blaring some rock song, the television following suit at a deafening level.
Moose let out an annoyed yowl. I hurried toward the alarm pad, plugging in the code as I pulled out my phone, still buzzing angrily in my pocket. The screen was filled with a laundry list of notifications, but they moved too fast for me to focus on any of them. And the dings just kept sounding.
I silenced the phone and tapped on my email. The inbox read: one thousand six hundred and fifty-three. My heart rate picked up speed. I’d had six unread messages this morning. That was it.
I tried to scan the subject lines, but they moved too fast as more poured in. I could only grasp a few. Warnings about my credit being compromised. Ads for penis enhancement and weight loss. And porn. So much porn. The kind that turned your stomach.
Exiting out of my inbox, I clicked on my texts. Message after message. Too many to count. There was one chain from my bank.
Did you approve this charge? $1,309.13 to Sex Toys, Inc.
Did you approve this charge? $10,237.53 to Hollywood Escorts.
Charge after charge. Each one worse than the one before. Then my blood ran cold.
Unknown Number
This you?
There was no link to follow. It was simply a screenshot. From a porn site. Of me.
My entire body vibrated as my ears rang. Some part of my brain computed that my alarm system was doing that warning beep thing again, but I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare down at the photo.
It was me. There was no denying that. The brightly colored comforter on the bed was a dead giveaway. I was standing in the middle of my room, my top off as I reached for the button on my jeans, blond hair cascading down my bare back.
Changing. I’d been changing. The photo was a screenshot of a video. A five-minute video. Which meant this kept going.
My breaths came quicker, hiccuped half sobs tripping over each other. Another screenshot. Me. My face fully toward the camera, green eyes utterly unaware as I stripped down. Naked. Every part of me on display. On the internet.
This wasn’t happening.
The alerts just kept pinging on my phone. Emails, texts, phone calls. Fraud alerts. Low balance warnings. Links to my new porn listings. All as the stereo and television blared in the background.
The tears came fast and hard, like acid tracking down my cheeks. And then a voice rang out. One I knew.
“Remember who’s in charge, Selly.”
My blood turned to ice as I searched for something—anything—to defend myself with. My hand landed on a stone bookend in the shape of a flower. I gripped it as I moved toward the voice.
Each step ratcheted up my heart rate, but as I moved into the kitchen, there was no one.
Then a chuckle sounded, deep and raspy, as the light on Moose’s camera and treat dispenser turned from blue to red—the color that meant it was engaged.
“You wanted to be a whore, Selly. I just made your dream a reality.”
Brendan.
I moved as fast as possible, ripping the cord out of the electrical socket and smashing the camera against the wall. But it was too late. I knew it.
Because those shots from my bedroom meant there were other cameras. They could be everywhere. He could be watching me even now.
I needed to run, to get out, but I couldn’t get my feet to move.
The corners of my vision darkened, and my fingers prickled. And then the darkness took me under.