Chapter 26
Right after Naomi posts the article, she feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted.
But as the day goes by and the article is shared by tens, then hundreds, then thousands of social media users, she starts to panic, wondering if she should’ve run it by Joel first. She knows why she didn’t, though—because he would have stopped her, forced her to completely reframe it.
Would have also called out the possible legal ramifications of it, a voice says in the back of her mind. But she ignores it. People need to know the truth. A potential serial killer is back on the streets.
Her anxiety spikes as her phone buzzes, assuming it’ll be more of the same death and rape threats she’s been receiving from Harlow stans since she posted the article. She knew the fans would go on the defensive, but she didn’t expect the reaction to be this bad.
She cringes at the continued vibrating, realizing it’s a call. Expecting it to be Joel, she’s surprised to see Leo’s name on the screen when she finally looks. Her heart sinks, knowing she probably shouldn’t have quoted him in the article, even anonymously.
She huffs out a short breath before picking up, bracing herself. “Hey,” she says, too cheerfully. Her whole body is tense.
“What the hell is with this article?”
She closes her eyes and deflates.
“Those conversations were supposed to be confidential. Me helping you out on the down-low. But now I see my words verbatim all over the internet…”
Naomi opens her mouth to defuse the situation, but Leo talks before she can. “My boss is pissed, knows someone’s been talking to the press, wonder how long it’ll take for them to figure out it was me.” He mumbles something she can’t quite make out.
“Listen, Leo, I’m really sorry… I mean technically you never said it was confidential, so…” She knows she shouldn’t have added the last bit, but couldn’t help herself.
He laughs, annoyed. “Right, yeah, sure. Well, don’t bother asking me for any more favors. I see what this was now. You got what you wanted. I’m done.” He hangs up.
She rubs her hand over her eyes, slamming her phone on the countertop with the other. “Fuck.”
She’s tempted to hurl the phone across the room when it vibrates again, but refrains when she sees it’s her friend Jessie.
Still up for going out tonight? I can get us VIP at the Standard! 9 p.m. if you’re in. She’s added a smirking emoji followed by toasting champagne glasses.
Naomi completely forgot about her plans with Jessie and the thought of socializing makes her head hurt. But she could do with a distraction. And a drink. Many drinks. I’ll see you there, she replies.
*
Rising tall against the Hudson River, the Standard, High Line is a New York City staple with every luxurious amenity imaginable.
Rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows, sweeping views of Manhattan and the Hudson, a legendary rooftop club, rotating art installations, a German beer garden, and a steakhouse.
The perfect place for Naomi to try and take a break again, hopefully a successful one this time.
Not that Joel would be happy about her going MIA after unleashing that bomb of an article into the world.
He already tried calling her twice, once just before she left the house and again before she got on the subway.
She can tell by his “Call me. Now.” follow-up text that he isn’t pleased.
She’s not ready for the fallout, though, so she decides she’ll enjoy her night and face him tomorrow.
Naomi stares at the white textured walls of the hotel as she waits in the lobby, imagining herself being transported to an alternate reality, a world where no one is angry with her or wants to kill her. One where her sister is alive.
“Hi!” a voice calls out behind her.
Naomi swings around to face Jessie. She’s grinning from ear to ear, her hazel eyes sparkling against the colored LED lights.
She is wearing a black mini dress with Doc Martens and a black beanie that half-covers her long caramel-colored hair, an outfit Naomi could never pull off.
She leans in for a hug and they hold each other for a moment.
It’s been almost a year since they last hung out.
“It’s so nice to see you,” Jessie says, squeezing her again. “How’s it been being back?”
Naomi sighs. “It’s been… a lot.”
“I bet.” Jessie shoves Naomi playfully.
Naomi shakes her head. “Harlow Hayes has been the bane of my existence for the past week.”
“Betcha never thought you’d say that,” Jessie laughs.
“No, I did not. How about you, how’s everything?”
“Yeah, all good thanks, just busy. Currently working with my boss to put together the list for the Songwriters Hall of Fame’s next induction.” She smirks mischievously. “I could probably sneak you a name or two next week if you need a story.”
“That would be amazing, thanks,” Naomi says instinctively, although she’s not nearly as excited as she normally would be about a future tip; she’s too swept up in Harlow Hayes and the suspected murder of her sister.
The elevator dings and people pile out as the doors open. Jessie gestures for Naomi to follow her.
“Look familiar?” Jessie gleams as she darts her gaze around the silver walls.
Naomi frowns, racking her brain for why an elevator would be familiar, and then it hits her.
This is where the infamous fight between Solange Knowles and Jay-Z took place.
Naomi was only a senior in high school when it happened ten years ago, but it’s something every entertainment reporter knows about.
“Is this the actual elevator?”
“Mmhmm.” Jessie smirks. “There should be some celebs hanging around tonight too. I heard Nikki Rix is in town, usually shows up when DJ Sea is playing. We’ll start on the rooftop but then head inside for his set.”
Naomi nods. If she could get some gossip tonight or witness anything like a Solange–Jay-Z-level scandal, Joel would hopefully forgive her for ignoring him.
*
The elevator opens and Naomi is immediately greeted by a smoky neon-lit club with views of the city skyline, sparkling in the distance like starlight.
Jessie guides her through the dance floor, where disco lights reflect off the swaying, sweating bodies.
Once across, Jessie pulls up a red rope and guides them to a velvet couch in the corner.
A promoter, smelling of cigarettes and shaving cream, is popping champagne for a group of models, their twig arms swaying in the air as they celebrate.
Jessie introduces Naomi to Izzy, the promoter. She’s happy when he doesn’t reach out his greasy hand and instead hands them a glass.
“To a fucking good night!” Izzy shouts, holding up the bottle.
Naomi clinks her glass against the others’ and downs half the contents.
“Want one?” Jessie smirks as she dangles a dime bag containing small white pills in front of Naomi. She hasn’t taken molly in years, not since her early twenties.
“Why not?” Naomi says, holding her hand out. What’s one more bad decision?
The two of them let the pills dissolve on their tongues before knocking back another glass of champagne.
“This one’s for all the bad bitches out there!” The DJ yells into the microphone. Everyone cheers, but Naomi’s smile drops when the trap remix of Harlow Hayes’ “Violent Ends” blares through the speakers.
She tilts her head back, annoyed by the DJ’s song choice for reminding her of everything just when she finally started to forget about it all.
“Yassss, Harlow!” one of the models calls out. “Finally free!”
Naomi rolls her eyes as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. She turns to follow Jessie on her way to the dance floor, but freezes when she hears one of the women bring up her article.
“Did you see that article from C*Leb earlier?”
Another woman, this one with thick eyebrows that look like they’ve been glued into place, laughs. “Hell yeah. It was just the wild conspiracy I needed to start my day. I think the writer’s got it all wrong though.”
Naomi bites her lip, not in the mood to hear her defend Harlow.
“I was there that night, at the pre-VMAs party—the night before that girl… well, we know what happened to her now, but I think it was the last place she was seen alive.”
Naomi’s heart races with excitement and she moves closer. The corners of the model’s lips curve into a smirk.
“I saw Jade, Harlow, and Colton together. Walking up the stairs. He had one hand wrapped around Harlow’s shoulders and the other placed right above Jade’s ass.”
Naomi’s mouth falls open at the comment. She now has an eyewitness putting the three of them together, the night before Jade disappeared.
“Hi, sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying.” Naomi’s worried the woman will be annoyed she was eavesdropping, but thankfully, she’s eager to share her theory.
“Yeah, basically just saying that I don’t think Harlow’s the villain in this story. I think we’ll all find out Colton Scott is—was.”
Naomi thinks about how Colton was allegedly blackmailing Harlow and wonders if her intuition about Colton not being completely innocent in all this was right.
That maybe he’s done worse things than toy with Harlow’s heart and emotions, as mentioned by Bobby and Trevor.
That maybe he was an accomplice. Or worse.
“Do you think the blackmail the writer mentioned had to do with that night then? That Harlow and Jade got in a fight and Harlow killed her? Or do you think Colton played more of a role?”
The model shakes her head before Naomi can finish, taking another swig of champagne before leaning in closer as the music and crowd get louder, nearly screaming in Naomi’s ear. “One of my friends slept with Colton. Said he was creepy as fuck. Like, vile. She told all of us to stay away from him.”
Naomi frowns, unsure of how to process the information. “Vile how?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell us. She just said stay away.”
“So you think he’s the one that killed Jade?
” Naomi asks. “And then what? Killed himself?” Naomi thinks of Harlow’s DNA found in Colton’s apartment, knowing she must somehow be involved.
But she wonders if the police checked Jade for his DNA.
Probably not. She also wonders if this night, right before the VMAs, was when the sex tape was made.
But that would mean Colton kept it, despite Jade’s fate.
Alarm bells sound in her mind like sirens.
Naomi is about to ask more questions, but then Izzy arrives with a tray of shots. The model squeals, disappearing into the crowd, holding a couple of glasses in the air. Naomi’s head spins, and she can’t tell if it’s from the pill–champagne combo or from this crucial new piece of information.
This changes everything, she thinks. It’s too much for her intoxicated brain to process properly right now, so she quickly writes down the exchange in her Notes app and takes two shots before meeting back up with Jessie on the dance floor.
*
Within a couple of hours, Naomi has completely lost count of how many drinks she’s had. Everything is a blur, just like she wanted.
Her head spins as if she’s on a merry-go-round.
She wobbles, reaching out for the wall. Once she regains her balance, she closes her eyes and inhales, not realizing someone is vaping right next to her.
She retches after ingesting the plume of smoke, but thankfully nothing comes up.
Exhaling, she forces herself to stand up straight.
But her knees buckle at a memory of Faye.
Naomi had just gotten dumped by her college boyfriend, the one before Matt.
Faye had encouraged her to get blackout drunk, promising she’d stay sober and look out for her.
But Faye ended up getting wasted too, and Naomi somehow remained just coherent enough to hail a cab to take them home.
She looks around for Jessie but can’t seem to find her through the fuchsia and lavender haze.
You can do this, she tells herself. You’re fine. Just get downstairs and hail a cab.
She stumbles forward, gripping onto various strangers for support as she tries to make it to the exit. But she struggles to see, everything blurring together like a neon-colored, long-exposure photograph.
The music seems to disappear, replaced by silence and the sound of a heart beating faintly in the background.
She shakes her head, wishing she never took the pill.
A scream bursts through the silence and she freezes.
Where is it coming from? She whips her head around, the movement making her dizzy, and she stumbles again, tensing at the sound of a wailing woman.
Then she hears the crackling of a fire, followed by laughter, deep and drawn-out, like in slow motion.
She shakes her head and everything is normal again.
And the laughter returns. But this time, it sounds just like Faye.
Naomi stumbles again, calling out for her sister. Warm liquid spills down her cheeks as a pair of arms wrap around her shoulders. “Faye?”
“Naomi… it’s Jessie. Are you okay?”
*
It’s three in the morning by the time Naomi sobers up enough for Jessie to trust she’ll be alright sleeping alone.
Still, Jessie shares a cab with her, waving her off into Joel’s brownstone.
Once inside, Naomi hobbles barefoot up the stairs, desperate to get into bed.
But when she goes to unlock the door to the apartment, it’s already open.