His arms wrap around himself, seemingly unsure of how to sit comfortably. He clears his throat.
“Shall we talk about how Morgan’s marketing isn’t working?”
“Come again?” says Ingrid, her tone defensive.
“Ninety percent of the attendees were old men.”
“A fan is a fan,” Ingrid hisses. “A follower is a follower. And a Christian is a Christian.”
Gabe’s cheeks flush red, but he doesn’t back down. “They want to sleep with Morgan, not hear her preach.”
Ingrid and I gasp, shocked by Gabe’s boldness.
“It’s true,” he defends. “She needs to change her persona to attract her target audience. Sorry, Ingrid, but everyone knows it.”
She jumps to her feet, her chunky white sneakers squeak on the tile. “Morgan’s persona is a success. She is bigger than you on follower count.”
He looks between his shoes at the floor and mutters, “Her outfits need to be looser. Less tempting.”
My eyes widen. I can’t believe he is discussing something related to sexual desires about me. He is way out of line.
By now, Ingrid’s hands are balled into fists and her nostrils flare.
“Your opinion is noted, Gabe. You can leave now.”
He doesn’t make eye contact. Just holds up his phone that displays a picture. “This was sent to my e-mail.”
We creep closer, and my stomach instantly lurches at the sight.
It’s a candid photo of me and Jack at the street racing night. I am wearing the skin-tight red dress. His tattooed arm holds my backside close to his body. It is dark, but he’s nuzzling my neck. The shadows conceal that his lips were kissing my neck.
Ingrid covers her mouth in horror, though, because it is a scandalous image.
“That’s not me!” I yip.
Gabe rolls his eyes, and swipes to a closer photo of me and Ingrid next to a car.
Shoot.
“Uh... Who sent those to you?” I ask.
“Carter, one of our youth service members. He was there and recognized you.”
I cross my arms and frown, ashamed of myself.
He continues, “If this gets out, you will be seen as a hypocrite.”
I shudder.
Gabe slips his phone into his pocket. “We need to pray Carter keeps this a secret. It’s important we dress Morgan more modestly.”
A scoff rips from my throat. “We?”
Ingrid nods fast. “Yeah, we?”
Gabe rubs the back of his neck. “We must unify. I am trying to help and do damage control because it appeared in my inbox.” His gaze sears into mine. “Morgan, it isn’t just your attire. The unsavory gentleman you are with—”
“Unsavory!” I hiss. The accusation makes my skin burn hot. “Jack is twice the man you are! Let’s face it. You are jealous and intimidated after he beat you up for trying to rape me!”
