I almost dropped my phone in my rush to turn the sound up. It was just the added music and not the background chaos of the event. Even if someone could read lips, the angle was wrong to see our mouths enough to garner anything.
The angle was wrong in general.
If it was coming from the press side, it should’ve been Tripp’s back on the video. But it was our sides.
As I watched, the comment and like numbers shot up. Not by one or two at a time, buthundreds.
I clicked the comment button before I could stop myself.
•Who is that?
•Is that his new assistant?
•I liked the hot guy better. Where’s he?
•Why is he touching her like that?
•If that’s his assistant, I’m also in the market for one. I have a big job she can do.
•Her username is GreerMoves. What a dumb name.
I mean, they weren’t wrong. I’d picked the name since hiking and yoga were pretty much my only hobbies, but even I knew it was stupid.
•I wish she would MOVE away from MY man.
•Ew, her real name is even worse. What kind of name is Greer? And Greer Moore sounds like a cemetery. Or maybe a severe case of gangrene.
•Yeah, I want to see a lot LESS of her, not Moore.
•How much less could you see? She’s a stick. There’s no way they’re together. His women always have more meat on them. He’s a man, not a dog who wants bones.
•That ugly dress is NOT doing her any favors, either. She’s on the red carpet with THEEEEE Tripp Carter. You would think she would make an effort.
•That alone is proof that she’s just an employee. And probably not one who will be around for a while. At least the hot guy was fun. I saw them party together at The Sign. She’s not much to look at, and she’s not fun. She looks like she’s going to lecture him to death.
•Right? Did you see that eye roll? 1) What kind of employee rolls their eyes at their boss? A fired one. And 2) Who is crazy enough to roll their eyes at Tripp Carter? He could tell me the sky was green, and I would smile and nod.
•I don’t think that wrist touch from him says professional relationship…
•Maybe he was discreetly checking to see if she has a pulse.
They went on like that. For every complimentary comment—or at least neutral one—there were two absolutely roasting me.
My hair.
My face.
My body.
There were comparison photos of me and the models and starlets Tripp had been linked to in the past.
And the not-so-past.
Because a bunch of the videos I doomscrolled through featured him with other women at the Hullywod party and some other places I didn’t recognize. There was nothing overtly sexual or even flirtatious, but with the right angle and gossipy caption, it looked bad.
But nothing looked as bad as the photo slideshow I was tagged in most.
The first picture showed Tripp entering the bathroom.
