9. Killshot
Killshot
Romi
A room that cold and bright was not built for humans.
The conference suite at Peachtree was the kind of room designed to make you feel watched, even when nobody was looking. Every A you're trending in three countries and it's not even finished."
I listened to my voice on the speaker. The words were mean as fuck.
Designed to bruise and leave hot welts in its wake.
I'd written it right after Pride, half-ashamed of the way it made me feel powerful and sick at the same time.
It sounded meaner when piped through a hundred thousand dollars' worth of corporate audio.
My phone buzzed on the table, but I ignored it.
Jamel was already in full pitch mode. "You drop this, you control the narrative. We could end this whole fake rivalry shit by lunch if we want. Or drag it out for another cycle and ride the engagement."
I nodded like I was thinking about it. But my brain was somewhere else. Not the numbers, not the cameras, not even the music.
My brain was on the balcony last week at that party I'd almost skipped.
Remembering the way Cam's knuckles looked white on the rail, the way she'd laughed—actually laughed, not the industry "ha"—at my first joke.
How I caught her trying real hard not to look at my dress.
How she'd thanked me, quietly, for not leaking the photoshoot argument, and how it felt like we were both just tired as hell. Human, even.
But here, in this glass cage, that memory felt like a hallucination. Here, my job was to press my foot to necks, every time.
Jamel watched me, waiting for the verdict. "What you think, Romi? It's your call."
I listened again, this time just to the words. My words. They were perfect. Too perfect. A killshot in three acts.
I forced a smile. "Let's keep it in the chamber for now. I want to sit with it."
There was a microsecond of disappointment from the room, but they masked it quick. Jamel just nodded, already plotting the next move.
I glanced around the table. The team was hyped, a pack of sharks circling an easy meal. Zaniyah caught my eye, then flicked her gaze to her phone again. I knew she'd want me to murk the competition, but she'd never say it in front of the others. Loyalty was its own chessboard.
The data girl raised a hand. "Can we at least leak a snippet to the fans? The anticipation spike is priceless."
I gave a slow blink. "Not yet."
Jamel shifted gears, prepping for the next phase of his day. Interviews. Touch-base with the brand sponsors. Maybe even a "surprise" visit from the label head if I played my cards right.
But my head was still on that balcony.
The way Cam's laugh landed up there—loose and surprised. Nothing like the delivery of my bars in this room. And my brain kept rewinding it. Playing it back frame by frame like some tragic film student's thesis project.
Her knuckles brushing mine. The heat of her skin. The way she stayed close instead of pulling back.
Stop.
I didn't know what to do with that. Didn't want to know either, because it's bad enough it's a woman, but it's also a woman my ass don't even like, period.
I snapped back when Jamel clapped his hands. "Alright, break time. Then let's circle back in twenty with the rollout plan. Romi, you got a sec?"
"Sure." I stood. Nothing to see here.
He waited until everyone else had filed out. The glass doors didn't buffer sound, but we both pretended it was private.
"You looked like you weren't feeling the Cam bar." He tilted his head, reading me the way he always did. "You never even blink when you're going for blood. Makes me think you're not sure."
I ran my thumb along the edge of my phone. Set it down. "Maybe I'm just tired of fighting over crumbs."
He smiled, crooked. "That's not you. You don't just eat. You devour."
Maybe once. Maybe I did.
The voices drone on after everyone came back and the numbers piled up like snow.
Jamel was off in the corner, hyping up the engagement on the Cam diss like he'd just watched a baby take its first step and then immediately start running a marathon.
The room vibed on his energy, lighting up in little pockets of excitement every time someone refreshed the dashboard and watched the mentions tick upward in real time.