“At the very least,” I agreed.
“All right.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ll be back intwenty, and I’ll bring you some ribs, yeah? With mac and cheese and green beans? Unless you want to come eat with us?” She always offered, and I almost always turned her down. I didn’t want them to feel obligated.
“I love Ford’s green beans. It’s okay. I’ll stay here and try out the champagne eyeshadow palette.” I grabbed a makeup brush and twirled it. “I have no idea how you stay so thin eating like that.” I’d already gained a good fifteen pounds since arriving in Seddledowne. Guess that’s what happens when you stop running on air.
“Oh, I do,” she said. “It’s because I don’t know how to stop moving. Just ask Ford.”
That was true. This woman got more done in three hours than most people did in three days.
She waved and opened the exit door. “Oh.” She turned back. “Ford says the lawyers are pushing to get that copy of your DayGlow contract. They’re worried about there being a possible non-compete clause.”
“Oh, yes, that.” I snapped my fingers. “I left a message, but I still haven’t heard anything back. I’ll reach out again.” The guilt from the bald-faced lie settled heavy and sour.
“Okay. Good.” She smiled, eyes bright, like she didn’t have a single reason to doubt me. “Because you know we need your face to make these babies sell. And we want to get your name on the contract as co-creator so you get half the credit.” She winked. “And the money.” Then she was gone, the screen door whamming shut behind her.
The second her tires crunched out of earshot, I crossed to the door and turned the lock—not that I needed to. Clean Slate Ranch was the safest place I’d ever existed. Ford and Jeff had seen to that long before I ever arrived: cameras on every corner, night vision, drones, a perimeter fence that tattled to Jeff the moment anyone breathed near it. And he didn’t ask questions when it went off. He just came. At that verymoment, I looked up at the camera in the corner and waved at him and his team—so grateful to know I was being watched.
No. This panic was completely homegrown—entirely, stupidly my own doing. If I modeled for DoubleTake—heck, if my name was even remotely attached to the brand—it would screw Peyton and Ford over royally. Because I, Juliette Serrant, was contractually forbidden from co-creating, investing in, appearing in marketing for, or publicly promoting any makeup brand that wasn’t DayGlow.
Speaking of DayGlow…
I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over the Las Vegas number that had texted half an hour ago. I didn’t need to read it to know it was Cecil. No idea how he’d figured out my number. I hadn’t given it to anyone I knew from DayGlow. Not even Fallon.
I angled the phone away from the corner camera and tapped on the message.
1-555-421-3760
Your contract didn’t disappear simply because you did, Juliette. Come back before this gets ugly.
What I wanted to do was sprint to the edge of Lake A, launch my phone into the water, and take off for Belize. But there were too many people counting on me to do that.
I was no fool, though. In the three months since I’d disappeared, DayGlow hadn’t named a new Sunburst. Not as far as I could tell, anyway. Which, I hated to admit, meant they were holding out for me to return. So there was no way they were going to let me go because of a single “pretty please.”
No, the only way to stop DayGlow was to beat them at their game.
Juliette
Before it gets ugly? My life turned ugly the day I signed your contract. And Griffin and I are done. I’m filing for divorce. So stop harassing him to get to me.
Every punch thrown at Griffin online reeked of DayGlow. They could come after me all they wanted. But they didn’t get to touch him. Maybe he’d broken my heart when he left—fine, he’d destroyed it—but I still loved him. He didn’t deserve to be the pressure point they squeezed to control me.
1-555-421-3760
Well, hello there. When might I tell the board you’re returning?
Juliette
When the sun rises in the west, or you wake up with a soul. Either/or.
1-555-421-3760
Fine, have it your way. Refusing to return isn’t an option. If necessary, we’ll resolve this legally. We’ve been very patient with you. Don’t make us regret that patience. And regarding your husband, who, may I remind you, you married without the board’s approval—we’re only doing what we have to protect our investment.
So that was their big plan—harass Griffin until I came back? I’d been right. Marrying Griff had painted a target on his back. “Selfish, selfish, selfish.” I had to make them stop.
I pounded out a response that sounded much braver than I felt.
Juliette
