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Motherfucker!I really didn’t want to meet them in public. I would have to find a secluded spot for us to talk, but first, I needed to get them coffee. If Lydia wanted it with extra cream and extra sugar, I would fetch it for her. I would love to tell her to take it and shove it up her ass, but instead, I would do her bidding. I’d deliver her order with a smile on my face, ask her how much money she wanted in order to keep her from blackmailing me, and then go on my merry way.
Mother. Fucker.I stomped up the stairs from the parking lot to Northeast Harbor’s Main Street. It was cute and quaint, with a restaurant, an art gallery, a small grocery store, and a cafe. I spied Daphne on the sidewalk, engrossed in conversation with a woman about her age. I ducked into the cafe without her seeing me. I got in line at the coffee bar; it was crowded, busier than I’d expected. But as it was the only place to get coffee in town, it made sense.
As I waited, I noticed several people stealing glances in my direction. I didn’t recognize anyone in line. From all the flip-flops andI Heart Mainet-shirts, the customers mostly looked like tourists. Some of them nudged each other, whispering, glancing at their phones, then at me.Weird.
By the time I made it to the counter, I felt flushed. People were definitely looking at me. I placed my order. While one barista poured my coffees, the other one gaped at me.
“Is there something on my face?” I asked her.
“No—oh man, I’m sorry.” She was a cute girl, about my age with curly red hair and a nose ring. “It’s just that… You’re Chloe Windsor, right?”
“Right.” It was so weird to have a total stranger recognize me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes. I mean, I think so.” I leaned closer. “Why’re you asking if I’m okay?”
She bit her lip. “Because… The internet.”
“Ah, got it. Thank you,” I said as I grabbed my coffees.
But I wasn’t sure that I was really thankful, not at all.
THIRTY-TWO
thin ice
Daphne was stillon the sidewalk, talking to her friend. It looked like they were having an intense discussion. After my encounter with the barista, I was worried it was about me. I hustled down the road and ducked into a little seating area on the sidewalk. I put the coffees on a nearby bench, turned my back to the road so no one would recognize me, and opened my phone.
I scrolled immediately to the gossip websites.
Brylecia Makes a Comeback at VIP Party
Felicia’s Smirk Says It All
Chloe’s Dramatic Bathroom Brawl — All the Details!
Brylecia?Seriously? No. Please, for fuck’s sake,no.But what had I expected? I quickly went to the articles. They were, as usual, light on details and heavy on pictures and insinuation. The first link was multiple pictures of Bryce and Felicia at the party last night. She was looking up at him coquettishly, her chest stuck out. Bryce was smiling down at her.Whyhadn’t I scratched that bitch’s eyes out last night?
It made me feel sick to look at the images. I closed the link and moved on.
The following “article” showed a picture of me standing next to Kelli Nguyen, my lips twisted, my face pale.Chloe wore a form-fitting dress to the party,read the caption. The next picture was of Felicia walking across the lawn, a smirk on her face. She looked high as a kite. The juxtaposition of the images said it all: even though I was in a hot dress, I was upset; Felicia was triumphant.
Then there were the bathroom photos.
Whoever the photographer was, he or she was very good at their job. They’d captured me walking in, a distracted look on my face. “A source from the party says they heard yelling from inside the lavish bathroom.” Next, there was a picture of Felicia coming out, grinning—the cat who’d just pummeled the canary. She looked gorgeous, her tan leg flashing through her dress’s long slit.
Then there was another one of me exiting the barn, looking as though I might cry. I was miserable, and I looked it. The final picture was a wretched one of Bryce and me back on the boat, leaving the party. He stared out the window, a grim expression on his face. I watched him, looking like I was about to burst into tears. The caption asked,Are Chloe and Bryce Headed for a Split?
Nice.All the dramatic details, indeed. How, exactly, was any of this helping Bryce’s father avoid federal charges for insider trading?
I shoved the phone into my bag, grabbed the coffees, and hurried back down the steps. Daphne was still talking to her friend and didn’t see me. Lucky for me, shelovedto talk.
As I headed across the parking lot to the motel, I wondered where the photographers were. Were they watching me now? I couldn’t let them see me with my dad and Lydia. That would be a disaster…
I glimpsed Lydia outside, hanging over the railing of the motel’s second floor, smoking a cigarette. I didn’t call to her or wave—instead, I scooted around the back of the property. There was an abandoned-looking pool with a unicorn inner tube floating on the water. Otherwise, it was empty. A forest of pine trees bordered the backside of the motel.
I texted Lydia.I’m around back. Can you guys come out here?
