It was a video of me.
Chapter Nine
In the video, I was wearing a green jumpsuit that I’d recognize until my dying day. I’d worn it for an infomercial that never aired because I’d killed it, buried it, hoped never to think of it again.
The video was muted, but I didn’t need to hear it to know exactly what I was saying. It was three years ago and I was in the midst of launching my first skincare line. I was obsessed and so proud. The products and packaging were everything I’d envisioned.
The idea behind the segment was that I’d stand in front of a bathroom sink, talking to the mirror, except the mirror was the camera and I was talking to consumers. Video Me began to go through my skincare routine, and a heavy dread sunk through my chest and into my stomach.
No one had seen this video. It had disappeared from existence. My management team had scrubbed every last computer in the studio and everyone on set had signed an airtight NDA.
Cassie smiled sweetly as she began to drag her finger across the time bar at the bottom of the screen. “Don’t mind me. I’m just skipping to the good part.”
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“Shhh, shhh. This is my favorite.” She shrieked quietly in a way that actually made me uncomfortable.
The video resumed normal speed except that for me, this moment would always feel like slow motion. On-screen, I opened the dropper bottle containing the overnight serum and dispensed a generous amount into my hands, then slathered it all over my face and down my neck.
“Don’t ever forget the neck,” Video Me reminded my viewers like we were best friends. “The neck and hands are always the true test of well-maintained skin.”
Confusion had burrowed into my browline as my skin had begun to sting, but I’d powered through the application with a smile and then reached for the last and final step: moisturizer.
But I’d only just opened the cap before touching my skin on my cheek, which was swelling—and quickly, at that.
“Addison?” my manager had called from off-screen.
“Let’s take a break,” the director had announced.
But I hadn’t heard him. My eyelids were already starting to puff and itchy hives were erupting up and down my neck and throat. “Benadryl,” I’d rasped, my entire face and neck on fire. “Dear God, rub some Benadryl into my gums!”
Cassie giggled, then hit Pause. “You get the idea,” she said.
I’d had an allergic reaction, one that was fairly rare. The lab had run endless tests and it was decided that the vitamin C added to the serum in the last round of tests was the culprit. I’d been furious with myself for not trying the new formula ahead of time, but vitamin C had sounded so innocuous! It was part of a complete breakfast!
But it didn’t matter that this was an uncommon sensitivity and not a hugely serious one at that. Perception is everything. And the perception was that Addison’s new skincare line was bad for your skin at best and medically threatening at worst. This video was career suicide.
After my legal team ran laps around every single possible scenario, we decided to go through with the launch after putting a warning on the packaging. Whether it was a good or bad decision didn’t matter. An FDA review deemed all the skincare products safe, and after that, I decided I couldn’t risk a multimillion-dollar venture just because it gave me hives. Did it feel dishonest to release a product I couldn’t use myself? A little bit. Did tons of old white guys continue to profit off products like tampons and makeup that they likely didn’t use themselves? You bet your Dow Jones ass they did.
But now, in this moment, there was no use in attempting to defend myself. Cassie didn’t care about the truth and neither would the public.
I stood in a power pose with my hands on my hips. “What’s your price, you Tumblr-browsing monster?”
“I don’t want your money.”
I didn’t believe her. Good berets weren’t cheap. “I’m not about to give you a sack of gold doubloons so you can flee the country or something.”
“You don’t get it,” Cassie said. “You’ve had all of this handed to you on a decorative wooden cutting board. What would money do? Buy me things? Give me time to figure out my life?”
I flung up my hands. “Sure. Whatever. Do you think I care what nonsense you decide to do with a couple grand?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t want any money. I know exactly what I want.” Cassie grinned, which had the effect of pushing her giant glasses up her freckled nose. It was too bad she was a horrible blackmailing fiend, or she would have been adorablein a “dark academia Pinterest board” sort of way. “And you’re going to give it to me. I want to play the heroine.”
The heroine?Cassie wanted to play the heroine?
Of all the possible reasons she could have been blackmailing me for, this hadn’t even crested the top twenty. “You’re not the understudy.” I tried to reason with her.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
