“Is that okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Yes.”
We leaned in and smiled for the camera.
The barista handed his mom her drink, and I knew our visit was over.
“Oh, so sorry. I didn’t askyourname.” I held out my hand for a shake.
He squeezed my palm. “It’s Weston. Nice to meet you.”
“W-W-Weston?” I choked.
“No, just Weston with one W,” he said, oblivious that he’d just finished me off. His mom called for him. “It was nice to meet you, Juliette Serrant. Gotta go. Bye.” He jogged away.
“Bye, Weston,” I whimpered, flopping back in the seat, my body buzzing with shock. A red-headed boy named Weston.
Is that sign enough for you?Imaginary Mom asked with a sniff.
“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s enough.” Even as jaded as I was, I couldn’t deny it.
If I were going to do this, though, I had to tell Griffin the truth about myself. All of it. Every ugly detail. As soon as I got back to the hotel.
This day wouldn’t let up. Not for a second. My phone danced across the table, swiveling this way and that, as a call came through.
Cecil.
I stared at his name. He was done waiting. Any moment now, a car might pull up to fetch me. He’d done it before. If I were choosing Griffin, I had to do it now.
I sent Cecil’s call to voicemail and got to work.
I sent all my favorite pictures to my Gmail account—the one I’d made sure DayGlow didn’t know about. Including the photo of Weston and me. Then I moved as much money as I could. The rest just sat there—mine, technically, but locked up in managed accounts and investments that couldn’t be liquidated without approval. DayGlow had made sure of that.
Then I typed out a text.
Juliette
I won’t be coming in today. Or ever again. This is my official resignation. Don’t try to find me, Cecil. You’ve taken enough. You don’t get the rest. Have the life you deserve. —J
But I didn’t send it. Not yet.
“Super Duper Uber Guy!” the male barista called from behind the counter.
I grabbed my coffee and stood, no idea how I was going to do this. Like I’d done everything else in my life, I guessed.
One terrifying step at a time.
A few years back, while waiting to go on the Breaking Curfew show, I’d enjoyed some downtime in the green room with Marie Kondo, of all people. Up until that night, I’d never heard of the woman, but by the time she left for her interview, I was convinced of her method.
So I held my phone in my hand and thanked it. If a phone had a soul, I’m sure when it came off the assembly line, mine had no idea it would be used to spy on my every move, leaking all my hopes, dreams, and greatest fears to a bunch of heartless men wearing expensive suits, who never looked me in the eye. It had no idea that the magnetic radio waves it emitted would be shackles on my wrist.
But I wouldn’t thank DayGlow. Not for the phone, the penthouse apartment, my celebrity status, or all the zeros in my bank account. They’d destroyed a young girl’s dream. Twisted something beautiful and bright into something dark and ugly. My time there would be a stain I could never scrub out, no matter how much therapy I underwent or how many good deeds I did.
So rather than thanking them, I whispered a promise instead:Goodbye, Cecil and DayGlow.I’ll see you all in hell.
Then I hit send, dropped my phone in the trash, and walked out the door.
Chapter Ten
