12. THE ONE WHERE HEX GETS DOXXED
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE ONE WHERE HEX GETS DOXXED
Comment: Anyone else constantly refreshing their feed to see if there’s been an update on that stand-up comedian and book girl?
Comment reply: I haven’t been this invested in someone else’s relationship since those athletes got engaged at the Olympics!
Comment reply: I had no idea who they were till this morning, and now I can’t live without knowing what happens next!
Getting Frankie to stop laughing about the shirt I return home in is about as hard as herding kittens.
Nearly impossible.
In my hurry to leave West’s hotel room, I obviously got our shirts mixed up because I didn’t come home in the same oversized T-shirt I left in. Mine was an old worn out band shirt I’ve had since high school. This one is a West Parker UK tour shirt.
They look so similar… I’m just glad it doesn’t have his perfect face on it.
West’s scent clings to the fabric, drowning me in memories of our night together. I hadn’t paid attention to my shirt once while on the train home. I assumed smelling like West was because there hadn’t been an inch of my body he hadn’t explored.
Fuck, I’ve got to stop thinking about it eventually, right?
It's the newness of it all. It’s the bruises being fresh. It’s the fact that I haven’t showered and there’s definitely still remnants of him on me.
Frankie knew what she was doing when she got to my house early this morning and prepped her signature FrankieCakes—the best pancakes I’ve ever had in my life.
No, I’m not saying that because Frankie’s my best friend. I’ve tried to humble her and find better pancakes, but I can’t. Frankie is the Pancake Queen.
I let her ask questions until we’re done eating, and as expected, she grins her biggest, Frankiest smile, a small gap in her front teeth, when I tell her how many orgasms West gave me. “Told you so!”
When breakfast’s over, I send her $50. A deal’s a deal, and West was everything I thought he wouldn’t be and more.
“What are your plans for the day?” Frankie asks as she finishes washing the dishes. This house is old and in need of an upgrade, but rent is cheap, Hilda could be a worse neighbor, I’m more than comfortable here, and I’ve been saving for a house…
I should look for a job, but I’m fucking tired.
Monday. I’ll do it Monday.
Meaning, I have zero plans for the rest of the weekend. “Probably rot in bed and pay an ungodly amount of money to get Klines delivered.”
Klines is our favorite pizza place in the city. We used to eat it at least three times a week in college and are probably still two of the top twenty-five regulars the family-owned business sees weekly.
“Oh-ho-hoooo, count me in!” Frankie dries her hands on the towel hanging from the sink’s cabinet door, knowing she never needs an invite to stay. She knows me better than anyone and wouldn’t invite herself to stay if she felt like I needed some alone time.
I think it might be good for me to have someone around today, allowing my brain a distraction from the mind-blowing sex I had with a man nearly seven years younger than me…
“I need to shower before any real rotting begins though.” And I need to get out of this fucking shirt.
“Let me pee first!” Frankie darts off to the bathroom at the back of my apartment.
I have two decent-sized bedrooms, but only one rather small bathroom.
It works for me, and Frankie’s the only one who visits for the most part anyway.
After returning from her last tour and moving out of the apartment she used to share with Sam, she’s actually been around a lot more.
Her relationship is over—it has been for a while, but I think she finally sees it. It’s just going to take her some time to kick the habit.
While she pees, I plug my phone into the charger by my bed. It died the second I made it to the train station, leaving me with nothing to do but think about the reason my muscles ache.
My fingers meet the hem of West’s shirt, but a knock at my front door stops me from stripping it over my head. I let out a groan and stomp across my apartment.
“Josette! It’s Hilda!” I hear, followed by another knock.
“Coming!” It isn’t unlike her to pop in occasionally, and she certainly knows Frankie’s here. She’s probably bringing over a joint to smoke and gossip.
I unlock the top lock and pull the door open. “Hi, Hil—” The words catch in my throat.
Hilda isn’t alone. Two men tower over her shoulders. One covered in tattoos from his neck to his ankles. The other wearing a crooked smile, dimples, and a backwards hat.
Fuck.
West’s eyes leave mine and shoot to the shirt I’m wearing like a dress. I watch him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like he’s forcing words down.
Hilda breaks the silence. “I found these two handsome young, emphasis on handsome and young,” she pauses and gives me a wink before continuing, “Men at my front door looking for you and Franceska.”
“Ummm, JoJo…” I hear Frankie say from behind. She pauses next to me, phone in hand, but her attention is fixed on Hilda and her entourage. “Oh, shit.”
“Is this a new service?” Hilda asks, wiggling her brows.
“What are you doing here?” I ask West directly. “Better yet, how are you here?”
“Enzo wanted to make sure I got home safe last night cause Sam was being… Sam,” Frankie answers. “I shared my location with him for twenty-four hours.” She looks from me to West and Enzo. “Are you here about this?” She holds her phone up to them, out of my line of sight.
They nod at the same time and Hilda smirks. “Oh my. Josette, you look great.”
“Doesn’t she?” West drones, looking over her shoulder, gaze fixed on the screen.
“What?” My stomach drops with worry.
“Three million views,” Frankie tells them while turning up the volume and flipping her screen to face me. “I have a strict no social media policy before breakfast. I just saw it.”
I take it from her, my entire body going numb as I focus on what everyone else already knows.
A video of me and West from his show went viral overnight… and I’m tagged thousands of times in the comments.
HexedHeroine has a face and everyone knows it’s Jo Daniels.
I think my mouth might be open. I’m not sure though, because I think I might also be floating? I watch the video three times before anyone moves.
I swallow and click on the profile. The girl’s name is Hanah. She likes Boston sunsets and seems to be a regular at last night’s comedy club.
She didn’t doxx me intentionally, but a witch hunt for who “Joey baby” is began the second she posted the video.
I drop my hand and look up from Frankie’s phone. Everyone is staring at me like I might explode or burst into tears. I’m not sure I’m capable of either at the moment.
I‘ve known this was always a possibility when running a masked account. My tattoos are recognizable enough if someone looks closely. I guess I didn’t expect it to go down like this though… Because of a man I just met.
In my brain, it was going to be a scorned ex or jealous coworker.
“Joey, I’m so sorry,” West says, the hungry look in his eyes when they landed on me in his T-shirt is gone, replaced by a worried one. “I didn’t realize I was doxxing you.”
I broke a guy’s nose in middle school for calling me Joey when I’d asked him to stop. I can’t find it in me to care, nor do I have the mental capacity to explore the reason behind my liking when West calls me Joey.
“It’s okay,” I hear myself say.
Is it?
Of course, if West had known my real identity was a secret, he wouldn’t have done what he’d done at the show. I don’t know him that well, but I don’t need to know much to assume he wouldn’t intentionally doxx someone on the internet.
Frankie puts her hand on my forearm, drawing my eyes to her. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“You guys, it’s fine.” I find myself wanting to comfort them, to let them both know I’ll be alright, even though I don’t feel fine.
But maybe I don’t feel anything at all? “It’s not like I have a job to get fired from, right?
” The laugh that slips through isn’t real—it kind of sounds like a pathetic sob.
I pop my hand over my mouth to catch it.
“That’s why we came here.” West steps around Hilda and points through my door to the kitchen floor. “Can we come in?”
Dude shows up on my doorstep with his buddy who has my best friend’s location, then asks for permission to enter my home like some kind of vampire?
He doesn’t move until I nod, inviting them in.
West steps through the doorway and Enzo follows. “Three-million views, Joey.” West reaches out for the phone that’s playing the video on loop in my lowered hand. “In less than ten hours.” When he turns Frankie’s phone back around, he’s showing me a few of the top comments.
Comment: The way I bought a ticket to his show in Baltimore so fucking fast
Comment: Sooo we have a chance of meeting THE @HexedHeroine at West’s shows then?
Comment from RosterandReadsBookstore: Let me show my marketing team this real quick for next week’s book recs Think Hex would wanna collab?
Roster and Reads… The nation’s biggest bookstore shared my doxxing video and wants to collaborate with me.
West pulls the phone away and hands it back to Frankie. “We can make some money off this. My tour sold out, and Enzo’s already getting emails from other clubs to add more shows.”
This is the kind of thing that blows someone’s career up—this is the big break a lot of people need… that a lot of people in my shoes with an account they’re monetizing dream of.
And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but this was never what I wanted. I never wanted to be in the public eye. It’s why I stayed hidden behind a mask.
“You can help me build my brand. Help me build my social media presence.” West is standing so close to me I can smell him again—or maybe that’s his shirt I’m still wearing.
“West,” I start.
Frankie pipes in. “JoJo, this could be life changing for you too.” I feel like time’s standing still. “You’re a social media genius. It could be a fun thing to try while you’re in between whatever comes next.”
“You know better than anyone we could make some money off this,” West says, his crooked smile coming back.
Money is my ultimate motivator right now, especially when I have yet to look at the severance package I already know Vyce low balled the fuck out of me on…
“If I could go back and use my body to make money I would in a heartbeat!” Hilda calls, leaning against my front door frame.
There are too many people here right now. I can feel the tension growing the longer everyone’s eyes stay on me.
“Can we have a minute?” I ask the room, nodding at West.
Hilda holds her hands up and takes a step down the stairs. “I’ll have Franceska fill me in later.”
Frankie smiles, nodding enthusiastically.
“You too, Frank.” Her excitement falls, and she sticks her bottom lip out.
When my facial expression doesn’t change and she realizes she’s already lost, she sighs and trudges through the kitchen on heavy feet.
“Let’s go get coffee. We’ll stop by the harbor and scoop you out some tea on the way.
” Frankie’s giggles carry all the way down the stairs.
“Get it? Cause you’re British. The Boston Tea Par—” Her voice is cut off by the front foyer door closing, leaving me and West alone in my home.