2. Brooke
2
brOOKE
Dear Ms. Ellis,
As we are currently conducting our investigation into our corporate practices, we kindly request that you remove any content posted for Vivaro to date and return any merchandise you have received.
Sincerely,
Vivaro Management
“ D o they teach asshole in school?” Nova puffs as she reads over my shoulder.
“The time slot clashed with music appreciation.” I slip the phone into my pocket and jump over a log on the trail.
I asked Nova to go on a midday hike because I needed some girl time. Today there’s barely any snow, but the grass is long dead and pine needles crunch under my stomping feet. The sun slants through the trees, hinting at spring. Not sure who it thinks it’s fooling—it’s not even February and so not going to be spring for a hot minute.
Thanks to the Vivaro email, I’m not getting paid anytime soon. Of course, the one brand I was building a collaboration with turned out to be taking advantage of other smaller creators.
It was always going to be a risk to stand up for the other creators who asked for my support. Now, not only has Vivaro put a hold on any future work together, but other companies I’ve talked with aren’t responding.
Still, thanks to Miles, I have a roof over my head and was spared going to my mom or brother for a handout that would come with opinions and strings.
Which is nowhere near the only perk of living with him.
“How are things with you and Miles?” Nova asks.
“We might have set a new record for orgasms,” I offer, my mind offering up a few of those extremely satisfying encounters.
Nova’s eyes dance. “You’ve hooked up on every horizontal surface in that condo?”
“Some of the vertical ones too.”
She laughs. “It’s more than that though. I see how he looks at you.”
The hairs on my neck and arms lift, and it’s not from the cold. The tingling starts deep in my stomach when I picture Miles’s handsome face, hear his voice, imagine him near.
I shoot her a look. “It’s new, and I get the sense he wants it to be easy. Not just him and me, but all of it. Maybe it should be, but I can’t help thinking about the pitfalls.
“My mom keeps telling me it’s a huge mistake. I get comments daily on my social profiles telling me how wrong I am for dating him. But at least Jay doesn’t look at Miles like he wants to murder him when they’re in the same room, so that’s progress.”
My brother and I talked a few days ago, but it’s not like all the wounds are immediately healed.
Nova nudges my shoulder. “People don’t like change. It’s threatening to them, and no matter how beautiful a new reality might be, they only see the risk.”
I turn that over as we continue down the trail, the sun filtering through the trees and warming us.
“The team decided to keep supporting Miles as an all-star nominee, but the timing of that run-in with Kevin was the worst possible. I can’t help feeling I’m missing part of the story.” I chew my lip.
“Miles didn’t tell you what Kevin said to him?”
“Just that he owed Kevin something, then Kevin hit him.” I shake my head. “Somehow the handful of videos posted online show Miles throwing the first punch, and conveniently, no one seems to show Kevin shoving him first.”
“You think Kevin was jealous?”
“No,” I decide. “I saw him recently and didn’t give him what he wanted. I think he needed someone to take it out on. Kevin has a temper but he’ll get it under control. I just feel awful for Miles. I brought this to him.”
“I’m pretty sure the fact that Miles chose to beat up Kevin back in college wasn’t your fault,” Nova reminds me.
I feel a hit of gratitude.
“More than one commentor has made the connection that I went to school with Kevin and we dated. They’re trying to make me out to be the bad guy. What if I am?”
I thought I knew pressure from growing up on social media, with the mother and brother I have, but being with Miles is bringing an extra layer of scrutiny.
“You’re no villain, Brooke Ellis. I will fight anyone who says otherwise.”
My lips twitch. “Thanks, but no thanks. The last thing I need is more violence in my name right now.” I cut a look at my friend. “How do you and Clay deal with the speculation that follows you the entire season?”
“Clay mostly ignores it. I get that ignoring people’s opinions is a luxury not everyone has. Even so, he’s had to build up the thick skin. But the alternative is worse.”
She doesn’t have to remind me of the bad place he was in a couple of years ago. Fortunately, she was there to help him.
“At least Miles has you in his corner now,” she goes on. “Are you going to the all-star game?”
“If Miles goes, I’d love to. But it isn’t something we’ve discussed—from my end, because I didn’t want to jinx his chances, and he probably didn’t want to put pressure on me.”
The terrain gets steeper. I refuse to slow down, and my heart rate picks up as my hiking shoes dig into the dirt.
“Well, voting closes tomorrow. Announcements are only a few days away.”
Nova slips on a loose twig. “Oops!”
I grab her arm to keep her upright. “Don’t fall and break anything. I’d have to call one of the guys to carry you back.”
“Clay would happily do it, but I don’t want to give him an excuse to mess with his knee again.” She laughs.
“Why did you agree to go hiking with me? You hate winter hiking.”
“But I love you.” Her wide smile eases the tension in my chest.
“I love you too,” I say and mean it. Nova’s friendship is one of the greatest gifts I’ve found here in Denver.
We start back up, slower this time.
“You ever decide you don’t want to do this art thing any longer, you could have a long and successful career as a motivational speaker,” I inform her. “You and Clay could take your act on the road—high-performance stress management.”
She laughs. “Can you imagine Clay being a motivational speaker?”
“He’d be great. Except for the motivational part. And the speaking part.”
Nova’s phone vibrates, and when she glances at it her eyes light up. “Yes! I have some interest in a show from this gallery in LA I’ve followed for years.”
“That’s amazing!” I peer over her shoulder at the profile for Coastal Gallery.
They have a large following and have featured an eyebrow-raising array of prominent artists. Working with them would be huge for my friend’s career.
“There’s a problem.” She makes a face. “When I show them my new pieces, they find an excuse or ask about things I’ve done before this year.”
There’s a clearing in the trees, and I force myself up the last couple feet and step out into it. A drop-off in front of us offers a sweeping view of mountains and a frozen river.
Nova’s right behind me. “Oh wow. It’s gorgeous.”
I turn toward my friend, soaking in her flushed cheeks, the pink braids sticking out from under her hat. She’s such a bright spirit with a kind of earnest fearlessness that’s admirable.
“It’s like you said—change is hard,” I decide. “But we’ll show the world that the beauty is worth the risk, starting with Coastal Gallery.”