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Taking a deep breath, I lean back on the counter and hold Skylar’s gaze. “So, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.” She draws out the word and my insides twist in a knot.
“Someone is definitely messing with us.”
Skylar tips her head to the side and studies my expression. “How do you know?” She asks as if she suspects as much, but isn’t one-hundred-percent sold.
“The whispers, the accounts at work, your flat tire. Also, at the store, my card got declined at checkout shortly after a woman lipped off and said she saw ‘evidence’ of what I did to Kelli.”
Skylar’s eyes go wide. “What evidence?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. She didn’t give details. But she made her disgust obvious.”
Panicked, Skylar whips her phone from a pocket, unlocks it, and taps rapidly on the screen. I open my mouth to say something. To tell her it will be okay. That we will get through this. But I don’t. Instead, I shut my mouth and drop the pasta in the water. I flip the chicken and stir the potatoes. Doing these things is better than telling Skylar everything will be fine.
Because I have no clue how this will play out. Have no clue if we will end up further tarnished and, if so, to what degree.
“Oh my god,” Skylar says on a gasp. She claps her hand to her mouth. “Oh. My. God.” Her skin goes impossibly paler.
“What?”
Eyes wide and glassy, she stumbles to my side, hand trembling as she passes me her phone.
On the screen—on fucking YouTube—is a seven minute and twenty-one second video of me and Skylar. In my kitchen. Fucking on the counter. My back to the camera. Most of her profile hidden by her hair and my face. But it is there.
Right. Fucking. There. For anyone and everyone to watch.
Immediately, I drop my eyes to the number of views, likes, and shares. A dozen views. No likes and two dislikes. Zero shares.
Thank fuck.
I pull the video up on my phone. “Report the video for sexual content,” I tell her. “I’ll do the same.”
The fact there is a video of us online is one-hundred-percent shitty. But at least the numbers are low. With only a dozen views, the damage isn’t widespread. I would rather people gossip than see this video. Gossip can be dispelled. Videos are a wholly different beast.
This beast needs to be removed. Now.
The biggest problem either of us face… getting the video from the original source.
Kelli.
Surely, she saved the video on her phone. Fingers crossed the only place she shared it is YouTube.
Unfortunately, I now have a new problem to talk with Glen about. The situation much more personal, but I need to ask if any other measures need to be taken. Until then, we tackle it head-on, the only way we know how, through the proper channels. YouTube won’t tell Kelli who reported it. Just that it was reported and removed.
If we get lucky, they will flag and monitor her account for similar future activity.
Most of dinner passes in silence. Neither of us harbors anger for the other, but a storm cloud of irritation and frustration looms above.
And it pisses me off.
Who the hell does she think she is? Sure, the Langston name holds some prestige in Stone Bay. But her entitlement doesn’t give her a free pass to do whatever the hell she pleases.
Was what Kelli did wrong? Hell, yes. But Skylar and I were no innocents in this either.
Although I broke up with Kelli more times than I can count on two hands, she clung to me harder than a gibbon monkey to its mate. Some may call it loyalty. I call it annoying as fuck. No matter how firm or kind I had been with each breakup announcement, Kelli blew it off. Laughed as if I had been joking.
Kelli Langston needs help. The help only licensed professionals offer. But how do we make that happen? How do we prove Kelli is behind all this?
