They didn’t destroy me.
They created a movement.
A future where I win.
The caller ID lights up:
TRISTAN X
Of course.
I answer with a groan.
“What, Tristan. What crimes are you committing this early?”
“Jade,” he says, breathless. “Wake up. Sit up. Find some water. Do a stretch. Actually, no time—just listen.”
I rub my eyes. “Tristan, it’s just past six in the morning.”
“Time zones don’t care about your beauty sleep, superstar.”
…that wakes me up.
“Tristan.” I sit up fast. “What happened?”
He exhales like he’s been waiting to dump this on me for hours.
“You need more than a lawyer.”
“Tristan—”
“No, no, I’m not done. You don’t just need your lawsuit lawyer anymore. You need theotherkind. The Jerry Maguire kind.”
“…What?”
“An entertainment lawyer, baby. And an agent. And probably a crisis manager. Maybe even a financial advisor. Hell, maybe a bodyguard.”
I press my palm to my forehead. “Why?”
“Because Netflix called my PR girl.”
Silence. Heavy. Sharp.
Then—
“Netflix… called?”
“Yup.” A pop of a consonant. “They want to make a docuseries. Apparently the ‘Jade Bryan story’ is testing off the charts in their internal metrics. My PR girl nearly fainted. Something about ‘Gen Z Erin Brockovich meets Athlete A meets teen social justice icon.’ Whatever the hell that means.”
My stomach drops.
“Tristan. No. No, no, no.”
“Oh, and MTV called too, if that’s still a thing. They want a reality show.”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” I snap.
“Relax, Jade. I told them you’d rather die.”
