Page 90 of White Noise

I shake it off and sit down beside the temporary setup, checking the camera preview one last time. The old monitor looks ridiculous balanced on the nightstand beside the keyboard, but the angle works.

The lighting works. More importantly, the waiting room is already filling.

Two hundred and fourteen people.

Two hundred and nineteen.

Two hundred and twenty-seven.

Familiar usernames start stacking up in the list.

Graveyard.

Kev.

Angel.

Morningstar.

My chest tightens when I automatically look for one more. VOIDKING88. It never comes, because obviously he won’t be joining.

I stare at the list for another second before forcing myself to stop.

Tonight isn’t about him. And it sure as fuck iisn’t about Silas either.

That’s the whole fucking point.

I straighten in front of the camera and adjust the hem of my shirt, letting it fall loosely over the lace beneath it. The reflection in the preview looks like VioletHex again instead of Saga trying to convince herself everything is fine.

That helps.

A little.

The countdown starts.

This time I don’t hesitate.

By the time it hits zero, my shoulders have relaxed, my chin has lowered slightly, and the familiar smirk is already settling into place.

I click GO LIVE.

Chat immediately pops off.

graveyardVIP: SHE LIVES

D4ddyKev: ABOUT FUCKING TIME

angelbite: MOTHER HAS RETURNED

MORNINGSTAR_X: late

I lean toward the camera. “Wow. Missed you too, assholes.”

Kev sends seventy-five credits before I am even fully settled, and I glance down at the notification with a sigh. “If this is about my feet, I’m blocking you.”

D4ddyKev: oppression

“Therapy.”