“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I mutter. Visions of Molly nearly getting us thrown into the casino’s lock-up after a particularly wild night make my teeth grind, even so many years later. I was always down to accompany her on whatever reckless shit she had planned—mostly because I felt responsible for making sure she didn’t end up dead—but she always took things a step too far.
“Care to elaborate?” Demi offers. I roll my eyes and shake my head.
I had already considered her offer to connect me with Key Five Productions in exchange for handing over dirt on Molly. It was tempting—extremely tempting—and I didn’t think Demi would go back on her word. However, I wasn’t entirely sureshewas the kind of “in” I wanted.
From what I could tell from her LinkedIn profile, which I cyberstalked last night (after remembering to turn on private mode, thank God), Demi had previously worked for a string of the trashiest reality shows on the market. At first, I thought it was because she wasn’t good at what she did—usually, she stayed with a show for one or two seasons, and I assumed that maybe she wasn’t being invited back. But then I came across the many glowing commendations from previous colleagues on her page. They painted her as a passionate and cunning producer whose results were exceptional for their show and its ratings. And every single person who left a comment on her page had the same thing to say: they wished she would consider returning for their next season.
Honestly, it’s impressive, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me envious.
Demi is good at what she does, and now she has her pick of whatever gig she wants, whenever she wants, because of it.
But Demi isn’t who I want my name to be tied to. Because I can see past her skill, past the person she wants youto think she is, to glimpse the duplicitous side of her. You don’t become that good at being manipulative without making enemies. And I don’t need any more enemies. I need people who will have my back, who will speak my name in a room full of opportunities because they truly believe in me and want to see me succeed—not because they’re leveraging my struggles for their own gain.
If there’s anything I want to leave behind in my twenties, it’sthatkind of insincere relationship.
“I really don’t know why you’re protecting her,” Demi scoffs as she eyes Molly, who’s now perched on a stool at the bar—her long, tanned legs crossed one over the other, and a drink in her hand. “Would she do the same for you?”
“Maybe not,” I reply pensively. And I’m telling the truth.
Because honestly? I don’t know what Molly would do. I don’t think I know her very well at all.
The DOP who had been glued to Molly earlier casually approaches her, and she flashes him the dazzling smile I know she saves for people she thinks can be beneficial to her.
“Would it help if I explained my angle?” Demi asks.
I drag my eyes from Molly and sigh. “Sure, fine—whatever.”
Demi smirks like she’s just confirmed her suspicion that I’m actually three toddlers in a trench coat, and not an actual adult woman.
“Well, as you’ve seen, Molly and Duncan have thisthinggoing on. The chemistry is there, they’re both attractive and interesting, and they look great on camera together, too—but I think what they have now can be made evenbetter.”
“How’s that?”
“They’re cute…but boring. There’s no conflict. I want to introduce a little bit of doubt.” I give her a disparaging look that says,come on, really?She waves me off. “I know what you’re thinking—it’s manipulative. But right now, it’s obvious that Duncan is all in. I mean, the man is already practically in love with Molly—although I havenoidea why.”
Honestly, I don’teither.
“The problem is thatshedoesn’t seem to be as interested.”
Demi’s right. Molly probably knows Duncan would nosedive off the side of the ship if she told him to, so she doesn’t have to show all her cards just yet. An apt metaphor, given their recent scene together, but it’s a good comparison. Because Molly isn’t just a shark when it comes to cards—she’s a shark when it comes to people, too.
“Why does she have to show emotion? I thought she was this season’s villain. Aren’t villains supposed to be detached and unfeeling?”
“A villain without any emotion is just evil, Chloe. It’s not believable.”
“So…you want her villainy to be believable?” I deadpan.
“I want it to feel earned—and for her to be understood. I want the audience to hate her on day one and truly think she’s a terrible person, then come to love her by the finale and root for her like they would their best friend.”
“Right.”
“It’s an arc,” she continues. “But you can’t have an arc without some kind of conflict, and I can’t create conflict unless I know what I’m dealing with.”
Demi makes me nervous—even more so now. I consider her words as I study Molly, then frown. She’s leaning on the bar now, stirring her drink with a little umbrella and touching the DOP’s arm. A laugh erupts from him, and I roll my eyes.
When Molly and I were younger, we spent so much time together that I could usually tell what she was going to say even before the words left her mouth. A single glance could tell me an entire story, and I’m realizing that I…miss that. Because her expression, while familiar, is unreadable to me. Grief washes over me, taking me by surprise.
It’s been almost ten years, and I still haven’t gotten over herbetrayal.
