Chapter twenty-four
Adrian
Iwoke up with my phone in my hand.
Pickle's message sat at the top of my notifications. Sent at 2:35 a.m.
Pickle:Counter-doc terms if I agree: final cut approval, full veto rights, and team consent. No time limit on my decision. Non-negotiable.
I sat up. The laptop rested on the desk next to my notebook, a pen, and an empty water glass. I opened it and pulled up the document Pickle had sent at 4:02 a.m. Five pages. Single-spaced. Every clause numbered.
He'd protected not only himself but Hog, Evan, Jake, and Heath. Even Coach.
I noticed what wasn't there: Punishment language. Financial penalties. Demands that I apologize in writing.
This wasn't revenge. It was architecture.
My old instinct:I should soften this. Reframe it for Lenny.That impulse lasted ten seconds.
Then I opened my email, attached the PDF, and typed:These are the terms.
Sent.
The reply came in four minutes.
Lenny Roth:Reasonable. Harder. Workable.
I closed the laptop. Went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. In the mirror, I saw gray shadows under my eyes, but there was new life beneath the fatigue.
The next several days were a sprint.
I catalogued every piece of footage. Built a master log. Created backups. Documented every download, every share, and every email thread.
Eleven hours of work I should have done from the beginning.
On day two, I called Pickle.
He picked up on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”
“I need to walk you through the footage transfer process.”
Silence. Then, “Okay.”
We stayed on the phone for ninety minutes while I screenshotted every folder, every access point, every place something could be pulled without his knowledge. He asked careful, specific questions. I answered all of them.
At the end, he said, “Send me the login credentials. I want to be able to check.”
“Done.”
There was a pause. Then, quieter, “Did you eat today?”
“What?”
“You sound like you’re vibrating. Like six espressos and maybe a Pop-Tart. I just want to know if I need to send Hog to do a wellness check.”
I nearly smiled. “I ate.”
“Liar. There’s a Thai place next to The Drop. Get pad see ew. The woman who runs it will judge you if you don’t eat vegetables, and honestly? You sound like you need someone to judge you into self-care.”
