One titledPublic Freak-out By Drunken Rich Chick.Another calledRich Gala Girl Gone Wild.But the one that caught Viv’s attention most was titledWho’s This Veritå Chick, Anyway?
She knew how popular video blogging had become, but Viv was surprised to see that this one already had over a million views. She hovered the cursor over the link, wondering if she had it in her to watch it.
It felt as if her fate would be revealed in the content alone. To have attention put on her at a live public event—using her real name, even—the idea terrified her. She was a single mother, after all.
A heavy layer of misgivings dumped onto her shoulders, burdening her body with more than she felt able to bear. Had she been an irresponsible mom? Allowed herself to inadvertently slip into the spotlight? Had she somehow put her kids in harm’s way?
Viv—unlike Duke, Sylvia, and most of the people at the gala—didn’t have a multi-million dollar estate in a gated area. She had a fixer upper in the valley and a set of young, vulnerable twins sleeping in the next room.
Her heart galloped into a new, frantic speed as she hovered a thumb over the mouse pad. She pulled in a deep breath, held it for a beat or two and, at last, gave it a click.
The video bloggers, referred to as vloggers, went by the name of TRIS, short forTwo Rocking Italian Stallions. They were brothers, one with short hair, one with long, and both in their early to mid-twenties.
The two bumped shoulders before pointing at the screen. “Thanks for joining the Rocking Italian Stallions. Tonight, everyone’s talking about the public freak-out that took place at an LA gala earlier this evening,” one said.
“I’ll set the stage,” said the next guy. “Some blonde in her early thirties probably…”
“Or late twenties,” the other said.
The two shrugged. “She’s in a red dress with matching lipstick that she smears all over the microphone in a drunken rant.”
An image showed at the corner of the screen. A close-up of the microphone that did, in fact, show red smears of lipstick on the surface. Scary music ensued as the small image grew to briefly take up the entire screen.
“But what was she saying in this drunken rant and just who was it aimed at?”
The long haired guy took over. “It was aimed at two people, actually. The billionaire stud standing next to her. His name’s Duke Benton.”
“He’s one of the guys fromThe Lion’s Den, right?”
“Right. So, Blondie starts off sounding suspiciously bitter about the fact that Duke didn’t take her to the gala. She then brings some other chick into it—the woman hedidbring—claiming he’d only done it because he wanted the woman to give him a good review in an interview withSlipper Magazine.”
“She sounds jealous to me,” the short haired guy said.
“Totally,” the other agreed. “But we looked into things, found out that, in fact, thereisa woman named Veritå who interviewed Duke. And take a look at this. We’ve got the issue right here.”
The long haired one fanned out a magazine and took a whiff. “Fresh off the press.”
Viv glanced at the time, saw that it was after two a.m., and fought off a fresh wave of nausea as she considered what the editors and owners ofSlipperthought of all this.
He held the cover up for the camera, causing an entirely different sort of pain to roll through her. She and Duke were supposed to go over it together in the morning at the park. He was bringing bagels and coffee. She was bringing the boys.
“This is one handsome dude, I’m not gonna lie,” one vlogger said.
“I’m man enough to admit that,” the other one agreed.
“So the question is this. Doyouthink this dude was actually pretending to like a woman in order to get a favorable review?”
“Doesn’t seem very likely,” his brother said. “But we wanted to take a look at this woman to make a proper assessment. As you heard from the online stream, her real name is Vivia Tripoli.”
“Oh, so she’s Italian,” the long haired guy said. “That’s hot.”
“Wait until youseeher. We actually pulled some footage that aired earlier in the night and used it to look at the couple while they entered. Take a look.”
Up popped a full-body shot of Viv and Duke stepping into the banquet hall together. His hand was at her lower back, and he was leaning in as if whispering something into her ear.
“Hold the music,” the short haired guy said. The sound of a record player screeching to a halt came next. “We’re supposed to believe that this guy is onlypretendingto like this tall, curvy, beautiful woman who writes articles about famous people for a living?”
They looked at each other and broke into a laugh. “News flash for you, Blondie. He likes her because she’ssmokin’ hot.”
