There was no need to ask who he meant. Dakota took a deep breath and climbed into bed beside him. “Georgia’s stupid for not seeing how great you are.”
He curled into a ball. “She said she has aboyfriend. How is it possible she’s been dating someone and I haven’t noticed? I notice everything about her.” He turned his face to Dakota. “Do you think she’s lying?”
“I have no idea.” Dakota sighed, tugging on the sheets until she could lift them over both of them. They curled up side by side under the covers, the way they used to whenever their parents went on a fighting rampage, before their mom learned how to check out.
“She said it was serious,” Alden mumbled.
“Like I said, Georgia is an idiot. Go to sleep, Alden. Everything will look better in the morning.”
He must’ve listened to her, because soon the only sounds in the dark expanse of her bedroom were Alden’s soft snores and the distant bass thumping through the floorboards, a sign her father’s party had evolved into its darker, more hedonistic form. All of Hollywood, Dakota had long ago realized, was one long performance ofDr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Dakota lay next to her brother, unable to sleep as the hours ticked by on her alarm clock. Nothing about life was fair. It didn’t matter how much you loved someone; your love couldn’t protect them or keep other people from breaking their heart. It couldn’t even convince other people to treat them kindly. She had so much love and worry and hope bursting in her chest for her shy, sensitive older brother, butwhat good had it ever done? The world had always taken its cue from her parents, treating Alden harshly, and all she’d ever been able to do was be there to pick up the pieces.
Goose bumps suddenly rose on Dakota’s arms, as if her body sensed something was coming the second before it arrived.
From outside her window, a bloodcurdling scream rent the night in two.
Chapter 25Juliet, the Model
PRESENT DAY
Every muscle in Juliet’s body burned, but she pushed herself harder on the treadmill. She was an IMG model now, in the big leagues, going up for a print campaign just next week, and she needed to be perfect. These days, her body was the only thing within her control, exercise the only reliable outlet for her anger.
Her new tablet, a perk from IMG, was propped on the treadmill, cycling through TikTok videos. This was her daily routine now: search the hashtag #OurLadiesoftheDark and let the videos roll while she ran and sweat and grew stronger in her new apartment’s gym.
The hashtag was a recent development. From what she’d gathered, the people online who hated Scout and her friends had taken over the #HotGirlMurderClub hashtag. Somewhere along the line—she couldn’t figure out exactly where it had started—some influencer or another had claimed Scout and Co. called themselves Our Ladies of the Dark, and the people who supported them had embraced the name.
Disinformation truly was the scourge of the internet. Juliet wished she could message all the women in the videos, tell them no one in Scout’s group called themselves that. But of course she couldn’t. She had to keep her mouth shut while other people were out there speaking and acting on her behalf. They were pushing for progress, running toward something greater, and Juliet was running on a treadmill to nowhere.
Another video started, this one clearly shot by a drone, an aerial view of students marching down the main boulevard at Duke University. An ethereal voice-over said, “A string of student protests aremaking waves around the country. At Duke, organizations are calling for an end to the collegiate adjudication system for sexual assault, insisting campus cases be immediately handed over to proper law enforcement, in an attempt to an end the cover-up of so-called college hunting grounds.”
The video cut to students gathered around a stage at Notre Dame. “At Notre Dame, faculty have joined students to protest what they call a ‘backward step’ on trans rights, after student ID cards belonging to trans students were reprinted with incorrect genders, a move the university claims is in accordance with a new federal mandate. And at Stanford,” said the voiceover, the video cutting to a new batch of students waving signs, “a recent announcement that the university will be cutting its women’s and gender studies department has brought out not only students but constituents from all over Northern California.
“Surprisingly, news outlets are linking these protests to pop star Scout Sage and what pundits are calling her ‘underground action network,’” continued the voice. “We decided to ask students on the ground if this was true.”
Goose bumps lifted on Juliet’s arms, despite her sweat, as the camera cut to a young woman holding a hand-painted sign. “I mean, it’s not like Scout Sage knows anything about Stanford, but yeah, me and my friends were inspired by that article. We printed it out and taped it to our mirrors. When you see an example of another woman fighting back, it makes you think ‘if she can do it, so can I.’”
TikTok rolled to the next video, where a young woman lifted her camera, filming herself and what looked like a hundred others sitting cross-legged outside the Americo Bank Plaza in New York. “We’re peacefully protesting,” she said breathlessly, “and as you can see, the cowards at Americo called the cops.”
Over her shoulder, a line of blue-uniformed NYPD officers made their way toward the protestors, who chanted, “We have a right to be here.” Behind the woman, a cop bent down and tried to forcibly move a protestor. “Please share this before they shut us down. America’s wealthiest people shelter their money and avoid taxes, while the rest of us pay through the nose. Either make them pay their fair share, or give us the power we paid for!” The hashtags at the bottom included#OurLadiesoftheDark and #NoMoreTaxSheltering, and Juliet remembered how theTimesarticle had detailed how Miranda’s ex-husband, a Sony exec named Dalton Preston, had dodged taxes for years before someone (cough, cough) tipped off the IRS. In fact, he’d used Americo Bank to do it. People were dissecting that article with a fine-tooth comb and using it as fuel.
Juliet forced herself to run faster on the treadmill. The lights monitoring her heart rate began to blink red.
“Here’s something no one’s talking about when it comes to Scout Sage,” said a beautiful dark-haired woman in a new video, sitting on one of those news-panel shows. The title of the post was, “Watch Green Lions Founder Luca Clearwater Eviscerate Gabriel Knox on Live TV.” Juliet slowed her pace.
“Do you want to know theone thingthe majority of mass murderers, serial killers, and child abusers have in common?” Luca Clearwater asked. “A history of domestic violence. Look it up—they’ve done studies on this, and the numbers are incredible. Private violence against women is the number-one indicator of future public violence. When are we as a country going to stop treating domestic violence as a personal problem women have and start treating it as asocietal sickness?”
Juliet slowed to a walk. This Clearwater woman was a compelling speaker. “I know everyone’s talking about Our Ladies of the Dark right now,” she continued, looking straight into the camera. “And maybe this is yet another round of performative celebrity activism. Your so-called stiletto-and-eyeliner feminism. But what I haven’t heard anyone mention is that these women are performing a national service by getting these vile men off our streets before their private abuses can turn into big fat public problems. We should be giving them medals, not jail time.”
Juliet jammed the emergency stop and the treadmill halted. She picked up the tablet and carried it to a bench, breathing heavily.
“An interesting take,” said a male news anchor, as the camera panned to reveal Luca Clearwater sitting next to Gabriel Knox at a roundtable marked with the CNN logo. Juliet had never given Knox much thought, other than to register that he was young and handsome for a presidential candidate, which meant he’d probably win. Sitting next to Clearwater, though, they were a study in contrasts: his punchy blue suit versus her somber black one, his American flag pin next to the roaring green lion on her lapel, his easy smile versus her grim expression. He really was pretty, like a young Marlon Brando—the camera loved him. “Representative Knox, also known asPeople’s ‘Sexiest Politician in America,’ what do you think of Scout Sage’s alleged actions?”
Knox’s laugh was deep and throaty. “It’s safe to say that, like most things, Ms. Clearwater and I don’t see eye to eye. If Sage is guilty of any criminal activity, I condemn her and everyone involved. And I urge my home county of Los Angeles to prosecute her to the fullest extent of the law. Crime is crime, even if you couch it in so-called vengeance feminism. One thing I can promise viewers is that, if I’m elected president, I will return this country to law and order and restore respect between the genders. I think it’s high time men and women stop waging war.”
“Tell that to the men beating their wives,” Clearwater said. “Women have been fighting a war since the dawn of time, whether you acknowledge it or not. And let’s be clear, when you say you want to return to law and order, you mean you want to return to a time when rich, powerful men like youwerethe order, and above the law.”
A fizzy sensation started in Juliet’s stomach.
