I run my hand through my hair. I knew this moment was coming and the argument coming up isn’t one I can avoid. Not any longer. No matter what it does to my campaign or our friendship, the act is over. "Daphne, that’s not going to happen.”
She eyes me curiously and pulls back to get a better look. "Are you sure?" Her words are cocky, a challenge, letting me know that the choice I’m making will affect more than her ass . . . it’ll affect my career.
She’s playing with fire. She thinks she can strong arm me into doing what she wants—her. What she failed to realize is that I’m past the point of giving a shit about her or my career. I just need Ali.
"I’m absolutely sure,” I say, keeping my voice level.
Her grin turns into a smirk. "Is this about the girl?"
"The girl has a name,” I bite out. “But it doesn't matter."
"Oh, it does matter. It matters a lot, and I'm sure you understand that."
"Daphne . . .”
"I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt to get your act together, to stop trying to . . . look like one of them or whatever you’re doing,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “But if I go inside, alone, I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands . . .”
My jaw drops to the floor. "Are you threatening me?"
I lean away from her, almost not believing what I'm hearing. This is Daphne. The Daphne I fuck because she knows how this shit works. And she's turning on me? I knew she was a loose cannon, but not like this.
"If you fuck up, my father will expose everything you’ve ever done. Remember—I know more about you than nearly anyone. And going down this path, the one of, you know, turning me down for a cheap piece of ass—"
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I say, catching Troy’s glance in the rearview mirror, but I don’t give a shit about his warning. Daphne has crossed a line. “Don’t ever talk about her like that. Don’t talk about her at all. You know nothing about her.”
She smirks, her head held high. "This is fucking up, Barrett. You might've gotten Daddy’s endorsement tonight, but don't think that will necessarily hold. One little call . . .” She presses her lips together in a pout, like a child wanting a new toy. It’s disgusting.
"You aren't serious right now, Daph."
She shrugs, her hand on the knob. "I know how these things work. Remember that, Barrett. I'm not some random chick you're fucking. Just keep in mind I'm not as stupid as you may think. I've been biding my time and making friends on the side. Just consider who I know and who's in my pocket . . . and what I’m capable of."
"What are you even talking about? Why would you do this?"
"I'd do this because I, too, have things I want to accomplish in my life. And I thought we were on the same page. But you're running around with trash now—"
"At the moment," I say, giving her a heavy once over, “I’d have to agree.”
She laughs, her high-pitched trill making my skin crawl. "Fuck you, Barrett.”
“Let’s not forget,” I burn, forcing myself to breathe, “that I know a few of your secrets too. I may even have a few pictures somewhere of you with a white little powder lining your nostrils . . .”
Her eyes dart around the car before landing on me, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes her fists. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I wouldn’t be able to help it if my phone landed in the wrong hands and those photos ended up public.” I scratch at my chin in faux-thought. “I seem to remember a few, well, we could call them selfies, I suppose, that you sent me from a bathtub . . .”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Then get the fuck out of my car and forget my name. Got it?”
She opens the door herself and slams it behind her.
Troy looks at me over his shoulder and, after one quick glance, he speeds us away from Daphne’s house.
Alison
Lola: I can go with you.
HER TEXT IS SIMPLE. AND I know she means it. She would be here in a second with her bags packed and ready to go if I wanted her to.
But this isn’t a girl’s weekend away. This is me trying to find some space to breathe without things coming at me from every direction. Between Huxley’s photographer situation, Barrett being with Daphne, Lacy finding me at work and then losing my job on top of it, I’m just simply overwhelmed.
I’m not sure what will happen if the incident at Luxor goes to the press. Will they be here, camping out on my doorstep like before? It’s not something I want to risk.
I just want to sort this all out somewhere safe and quiet and away from anyone that would have any input into my decisions. Whatever I decide has to come from me with no influence.
Quickly, I type back a message to Lo.
Me: I know you would. It just makes more sense right now to leave . . . him? I feel like this is all boiling down and I just need to get away.
She responds right away.
Lola: Just don’t boil down with it.