Chapter 25
One month later
Former Soundbites Media employee Eva Kitt has collected the harrowing stories from various whistleblowers at the company who suffered from workplace bullying and harassment by executives, particularly founder Landry Doughright and her son, William.
Furthermore, Soundbites has released an official statement that they are utilizing a third party to investigate the accusations, including the allegation that William Doughright leaked private photos and videos of one of the employees to generate media buzz and traffic to the site…
My exposé came out in the Times two days ago. It was quickly picked up by The Washington Post , CNN, USA Today , and local news stations. I got an email that the Today show might run a segment about the ongoing investigation.
Goddamn, does revenge taste so fucking sweet.
“Were you scared to write the article?” Rylie asks as we finish up our podcast recording. I gave him an exclusive interview because sometimes (rarely) I can be a really good girlfriend. We’re live-streaming the episode, the engagement through the roof.
I chew on my lip, giving serious thought to the question. “I wasn’t scared to tell the truth, but I was scared about the personal repercussions I’d face.”
“What do you mean?”
I give him a mildly sardonic glance. “A video of us making out started circulating at a rapid rate and the vast majority of comments were essentially slut-shaming me for kissing my boyfriend and asserting that any career success I have is because I fucked my way there. A piece looking at a hostile work environment rooted in misogyny and my own experiences with it didn’t exactly seem like a safe topic to explore. ”
Rylie nods, eyes glittering with pride as he looks at me. “I agree, so many of the responses to that video were either congratulatory toward me for being with someone like you, or tearing you down for sharing an intimate moment with someone.”
I snort. “It wasn’t congratulatory for being with someone like me , it was pure and simple locker-room talk asking how I stacked up.”
“Fair,” Rylie says, expression dipping into a frown. “It was disgusting.”
“No shit.”
“So why did you do it? Why did you take the risk and write the exposé that you did?”
My heart squeezes as I reflect on the past few weeks, the brutal rush to find out everything I could, the gut-twisting horror at how widely and deeply Landry and other execs had sliced their way through the office for years, belittling people to crumbs in some sick power trip.
The crazed anxiety that I wouldn’t help anyone in time, wouldn’t get their story in front of people fast enough for anything to actually be done.
And then I think of Rylie—his soft, exuberant presence through every second of it.
The brush of his thumbs at my cheeks when I’d cry in frustration.
The gentle kneading of his fingers along my shoulders and neck as I worked well into the early morning, typing and researching in a desperate hunt to find my own purpose in the pain of it all.
“I did it because I wanted to support other people experiencing the soul-sucking demoralization of working for someone who treats them like less than a person. We’ve become far too comfortable as a society disregarding the humanity of people and using them as output machines we can abuse until they break.
” I take a deep breath, eyes locked on Rylie’s.
I see the glint of affection in his as he gives me the space to keep going.
“I felt what it was like to finally be unconditionally supported, and encouraged to demand better for myself, and I wanted to carve out a space for other people to get there too.”
Rylie’s smile is wide and adoring, sending butterflies through my stomach. “So what comes next for the indomitable Eva Kitt?”
I laugh, a soft, breathy sound that I would have felt em barrassed about two months ago, but now feels as indulgent as chocolate cake, and Rylie’s resulting smile is even sweeter.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, glancing at my silenced phone on the table.
The screen hasn’t stopped lighting up since the article released.
Talk show invites and legal threats and painfully honest notes from people who resonate with the story.
There were some job offers, even a literary agent inquiring if I had interest in representation for a book of essays based on my Babble posts. “Maybe I’ll start a podcast.”
Rylie’s grin is electric, flooding me with currents of joy. “Hell, you could come on and cohost this one. God knows I could use the help.”
“I’m sure I’d add a level of likeability that you’re missing.”
He laughs so loudly, he has to cover the mic. He keeps his palm cupped over the microphone, using his free hand to guard his mouth from the camera as he whispers, “I like you so damn much, it’s impossible to me that anyone wouldn’t.”
I love you , I mouth, not bothering to hide it from anyone viewing. Everyone should know how lucky I am to love a man like him.
Both of us catch the charge between us, and we wrap up the interview with little style and a lot of stolen smiles.
With a definitive click, Rylie shuts off the camera and powers down his phone.
I do the same, breezily swiping away the hundreds of notifications before the screen goes black.
That’s for tomorrow, for future Eva with a career path that isn’t nearly as bleak as I thought, but just as scary.
The fear doesn’t seem to matter as much, not when I have Rylie marching with me.
He crosses the room to me, crooked smile glowing on his face moments before he swoops me up in a kiss. He holds me, both of us vibrating with the magnitude of what we just did, all that I’ve said in such a public way.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Rylie whispers against my neck, tracing his lips up and down. “So fucking amazed to know you.”
“Jesus, Rylie, try not to be so stingy with the praise.”
He laughs, making an arduous circuit along my jaw, then across my forehead.
“I’m so lucky to know you ,” I say on a sigh, feeling swamped with pleasure. It’s cheesy and I’m infatuated and I couldn’t care less about anything or anyone but the man layering words and sensations of adoration onto me.
We eventually break for air, giggling like we’re teenagers touching each other for the first time. Somehow, I know the feeling will never fade.
“So…” Rylie starts, smile shy and cheeks pink. “Want to go on that sixth date?”
My eyebrows furrow, lips still buzzing from his kisses as I fix them into a frown. “And skip over four and five? Wow .”
Rylie cups my cheeks, laughing as he brushes his nose against mine, filling me with warmth and light and a want so sharp, only a promise of forever can dull the edge. “Easy, Kitten. I’ll give you as many dates as you need. You just have to ask nicely.”
“Nice isn’t really my style.”
Rylie looks at me, eyes bright and hopeful and a mirror to every feeling flooding through me as I stare at the man I love.
He kisses me again, slowly at first, then with a bite of hunger, a franticness neither of us are ever able to curb. Need and comfort and hope and desire swirl around us, bringing us closer. He pulls back, indulging my whine of protest with a few quick pecks along my cheeks.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” he whispers, then kisses me some more.
The fucking end