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"It's not."
Danielle takes a step backwards. "You stole my client."
"You didn't listen to what he wanted."
"You didn't give me a chance."
"You wouldn't have." I stare back at her. Maybe I was wrong to take Danielle's client without her permission, but we both know she would have taken her vision to her grave.
Her eyes narrow. She looks to the cell, watches Mal pin my arms above my head. She shakes her head and hurls the phone to the ground.
The screen shatters with a crack.
She glares at me. "I can torch your career with a few phone calls. You're young and pretty, but you're not going to be able to fuck your way into every job for long."
"It's not like that."
"Right. You love him. You need him. You'd do anything for him." She rolls her eyes. "Please, sweetie. I've heard it all before."
I don't know why I feel so compelled to explain it to her. Danielle can think I'm a client-stealing bitch, but I can't stand her thinking I slept with Mal for the opportunit
y.
"Get out of my face, you stupid whore." She steps backwards and slams the door shut.
I stare at it for a moment. I should have known this would happen. I should have quit earlier. I should have done something to protect my heart instead of letting it beat for Mal.
Muscle memory takes over. I get into my car. I drive to the nearest place that makes sense, the Starbucks on Ventura, the one with the tiny parking lot.
I get in line.
The barista rings up my usual order—an iced green tea for me and a latte with two pumps of caramel and three of vanilla for Danielle.
"No, just the tea. Sorry." I hand over my credit card.
She smiles at me. "Boss isn't in today? Nice." She swipes my card and hands it back over.
Slowly, I slide it into my wallet and place that into my purse. The whole thing is vibrating. No, that's my phone.
The barista drops off my tea. "Enjoy."
I nod a thank you. The drink is cold against my fingers. It's already wet with condensation. I sit at the table in the corner. I pull the paper off my straw and stab the plastic lid. I suck the freezing cold drink into my lips.
My teeth chatter.
Slowly, I come back to my senses. I'm done with my job a few days early. That's okay. With the payment for the edit, I have enough for the next month or two. The payment for the video is coming. That's enough for the rest of the year if I cut back on takeout.
I'll be okay, financially.
But there's all this dread in the pit of my stomach. Danielle is vengeful. She's out for blood.
Can she do something to torch my career?
With her reputation as a diva, it seems unlikely that anyone will take her side.
I steady enough to pull out my phone. It's flush with texts from friends, old and new. Even Carrie has seen the video.
And Adam.
