And that’s it. I’m crying, because I’m just a stupid child who’s falling in love with her stupid client.
41
MCCARTHY
That’s it. I’m ending it. Jenna’s mine. She loves me. I love her. We’re going to get married, and she’s going to have my children. She’s completely and totally mine, and no one touches what’s mine. I’m going to burn this whole place down.
The faces of the men on the murder wall stare back at me with dead eyes, fake smiles. I add the headshot of her father, Devin, from the HopeWorks charity, then I add Joseph, the director.
“Welcome to round two, motherfucker.”
This time, I’m not just throwing him in the fountain.
When Jenna is asleep, Truman snuggled on her chest, I mirror her phone then send texts to the numbers texting Jenna.
Sure, you can brute-force it and find someone by tracking a phone number, but social engineering is often quicker and cheaper.
Jenna (McCarthy):Stop texting me.
Jenna (McCarthy):I swear to God, you need to leave me alone.
The ones that are just burner numbers don’t text back. The ones that do?
Brock is the first one to take the bait.
Brock:Vinnie was wrong. I knew you’d text me back eventually.
Brock:He’s afraid of that meathead security guy, but I said no, I know Jenna.
Brock:She’s loyal. She won’t abandon me.
Brock:We have a meeting with the Hollywood executive tomorrow.
Brock:You better be there.
Jenna (McCarthy):Will you leave me alone if I go?
Brock:We’ll talk.
Yeah, we will.
Jenna (McCarthy):There better not be any pranks.
Brock:None.
Of course there will be. I put a check mark on Brock’s photo.
There is no Hollywood executive. I’m not in PR, but there’s no way they’re flying to Seattle to have a meeting with a third-rate YouTuber.
The phone chimes. There’s another bite on the line.
Unknown Number:Now you’re sorry, huh? You’re sorry you fucked me over???
Unknown Number:You came to my office to embarrass me.
Unknown Number:I LOST MY JOB!!!
So that one is Nathan.
