“I can’t even…” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me where this guy lives. I’ll talk to him.”
No. That was the last thing she needed. If Kent didn’t already know where she was, after yesterday, there was no reason to draw attention to her. She reached across the table and covered his fist. The tremor in his hand vibrated through hers. “Don’t,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m not telling you this to sic you on Kent. I figured you deserve to know why I freaked out yesterday, but it’s not because I want you to do something.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “He threatened you.”
She turned her attention back to the tabletop. “He probably didn’t mean it.” Her voice wavered. “But better safe than sorry, right?”
“Yes.” Ethan spat out the word more forcefully than he intended. “That’s why you can’t just let it slide.”
“I don’t—” She snapped her jaw shut mid-shout. She didn’t know how better to get her point across. “I watch my back. That has to be enough.”
“It’s not.” His phone chimed, and then a second and third time, and he growled. “I should have shut that off.”
“Answer it.” She didn’t want to end the conversation this way, but she was struggling with her composure. “You’re not changing my mind on this. The conversation is over.”
*
Ethan didn’t want to drop the subject, but he also could see Jaycie was seconds away from shutting him out. He pulled up the new text messages, while his brain traipsed through ways to convince her to let him do something. Instead of helping him focus, the message from Rich sent his concern into overdrive.
Your roommate tell you she was the enemy?
Ethan’s gut sank. The next text wasn’t any better.
She’s going down. Don’t fall with her.
What the fuck did that mean?
Jaycie’s, “Oh, God,” drilled into his thoughts.
He looked up, to find her staring at her own phone, face even paler than a few minutes earlier, mouth pinched. Another text came in from Rich, this one just a link. Gaze alternating between Jaycie and the message, Ethan clicked through.
The headline fueled the rage that had been simmering inside since she’d told him about Kent. Game Reviewer J-Dub—Trading Sex for Her Opinion? And Rich was the author.
A quick scan showed the article painted a picture of a game developer who’d just been trying to get by. Working his ass off to do his job. And he’d been approached by a friend’s girl. According to Rich’s article, J-Dub had told him she could give him the best write-up his game had ever seen, if he was willing to help her fulfill a few fantasies. When he turned her down, she told him no one would take his games seriously again. Rich hadn’t believed her, but then he saw her review of his most recent game, especially compared to Enemies of Fortuna–from the same company, but by a developer she was much friendlier with…
With each new word, Ethan’s rage grew another notch. He’d known Rich was an ass sometimes, but this bullshit was so far over the line, it was like the line didn’t even exist.
“I’ll be in the car. Or I’ll call a cab, if you’re not ready to leave yet,” she said.
He wasn’t sure if that was defeat or disappointment mingling with the raw fear in her voice, but he wanted to make all three vanish. Problem was, there was nothing nearby to punch, and he was seeing too much red to think of another solution. “Wait.”
“No.” She fixed a narrowed-eyed gaze on him. “My real name is all over this. I need to deal with how he found out who I am. With what this is going to do to my career. You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Ethan swallowed his irritation. She was reacting to the situation, not throwing out blind accusations. Still, he couldn’t keep the strain from his voice. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
She shook her head, and exhaled loudly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“Stressed. I know. Don’t call a cab.” He fell into step beside her. “I’ll help.”
“You can’t help.” She handed him her phone again, open to a different Twitter feed. Several of the tweets related to her, the article Rich had just sent him the link to, or both. Dozens were from Rich.
When are we going to reexamine the lack of integrity in journalism?#5StarFUQ
We’re not even safe doing what we love, without these women cutting us down #5StarFUQ
If J-Dub and Console Power think this is the right way to run a magazine, we’ll prove them wrong. #5StarFUQ
Those were bad, but it was the tweets from people besides Rich, that made Ethan’s blood boil.
#5StarFUQ Fucking cunts don’t even belong in the industry.
Total #5StarFUQ is letting these bitches do anything but cook and spit out kittens
If I ever find out where this J-Dub cunt lives I’ll rape her until she knows her place #5StarFUQ
Fuck. Ethan held the passenger door open while she slid in, still struggling to process the venom. “You’re not safe. How do we stop this?”
“We don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I have to do damage control. And maybe not be around anyone right now. I just…” She sighed. “Look, the insults and threats are standard. I can deal with those. But the rest of this is a big deal.” Whatever terror had been there moments ago was hidden behind a stern mask.
The threats were standard? What the hell? He wanted to erase the stress around her eyes. Hurt whoever had done this. But he didn’t know where to start on either front. “Just let me know what I can do.”
Chapter Ten
Jaycie shifted in her seat again, dragged the seatbelt out a few inches, and then let it slide back into place. They couldn’t get home soon enough. Acid churned in her gut, gnawing at her insides. It wasn’t so much that her real name was out there. She’d expected that to happen eventually, given the company she’d kept for years, though she hadn’t been prepared for it to happen now.
It was the accusations that gnawed at her, and the fact it had blown up overnight. Yesterday she’d just been another name on a page. Sure, she was a well-known enough name that it made it easier to get work, but J-Dub was still just another scribble in an endless sea of scribbles. Now, according to the internet, J-Dub was a woman who lied about her identity for years, and fucked her choice of developers, in exchange for giving them top marks on their games.
She had no idea how she was going to bring this under control, but she had to triage something. If this went on for much longer, it was going to destroy her credibility and cost her jobs. Everyone’s opinion was biased in some way, but no one wanted to think the review they read had been bought. And she hated that someone questioned her integrity enough to accuse her of trading her thoughts to get laid.
“Jace?” Ethan’s voice cut through the haze of rambling thoughts.
She dragged her attention back to her surroundings, almost sobbing with relief to see they were back at the apartment complex.
“I’m here, however you need me.” Concern lined his tone. He sounded so sincere.
Except she couldn’t shut off the part of her wondering if he was the cause of this. She didn’t think he’d done it intentionally—though she’d read Nick wrong all those years, so maybe she’d done it again. The thing was she’d also lived with Nick for almost three years, which meant running into Rich on a regular basis, and her identity never came out. Two weeks with Ethan, and Rich knew.
“Nothing.” She hopped from the car as she spoke. “Just please, don’t do anything else. Let me handle this.”
It took the last of her self-control to keep from sprinting into the apartment. Her fingers twitched, as she situated herself in front of her laptop, pulled up her messenger program, and opened a chat window with her editor, Len, at Console Power Magazine.
She sent him a quick note. Back at my computer. What do you need from me?
The seconds it took to receive a response felt like eons, each tick of the clock winding h
er entire body tighter. She breathed out, trying to calm herself, when his reply came in. Right now, these are the two articles in question. He included links to both. We look as bad as you, and you know I love you, doll, but you’re one person. We won’t take the heat for this.
She ignored the nickname, tension ratcheting when she clicked the links. Of course. It was the glowing write-up she’d done on DM’s Enemies of Fortuna RPG, and the not-so-complimentary one about their FPS. She rubbed her face, rolled her neck, and sent back a reply. The rumors aren’t true. You know that. I didn’t even know this guy when I reviewed Fortuna.
It doesn’t matter if I know it or not. Len’s message blinked back at her, glaring, blunt, and lacking reassurance. The players believe it. This is blowing up. We’re issuing an official statement. You have half an hour to send me your rebuttal, and I’ll include it.
She bit back the urge to ask if he really thought that was going to make a difference. It wasn’t like she had a choice. If they chose to distance themselves from her work, that would only make her life worse. She typed, I’ll have you something in five minutes. You can edit for grammar, not content. If you post this, it goes up as I wrote it.
Of course.
She minimized the chat window, and pulled up a new email with his name at the top. Subject: For Immediate Press Release.
Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, and forced her thoughts to fall into order. She was moving her fingers across the keyboard before she focused on the screen again. This morning some disturbing accusations came to light about the professional name I write reviews under, J-Dub. I am going on record as stating the only compensation I receive—monetary or otherwise—comes from the source that publishes my reviews. I do not seek or accept compensation from the party I review or any of their affiliates. All of my reviews are my own opinion, and no one else’s. My opinions are not for sale, regardless of the price.
She started to type that she was disgusted by the allegations, then deleted it. She retyped the line several times, before deciding it was too emotional and sending the note as it was. Never feed the trolls. Never let them see her sweat. She lived by those rules; she wasn’t forgetting them now.
Ethan had nothing to do with this, right? She snarled at the thought the moment it resurfaced. Self-loathing combined with her stress, to chew away at the barely-there leash she had on her thoughts. Worse, she didn’t know if she was disgusted with herself for thinking he might be involved, or for being naive enough to believe he wasn’t. He’d looked furious at the coffee shop. Enough so, she thought he might punch a hole through the table. Then again, Nick had always been sweet too. Obliviously dismissive, but sweet.
Even after she received confirmation from her editor that he had her statement, she sat in her chair, staring at her screen. What was she supposed to do next?
Walk away. That was what she needed to do. This wasn’t such a big deal, right? She’d issue her statement, the chatter would die in a few days, the community would focus on something else, and this would only leave a small blemish on her credibility. It wasn’t like it would destroy her career. Right?
“Are you going to stare at that thing all day?” Despite the words, Ethan’s question sounded sympathetic, as it landed against her back.
She couldn’t face him. Wasn’t sure if it would make things worse or better, but at least as she was, she had some semblance of control over her careening thoughts. “I was thinking about it.”
“I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone who you are, and I didn’t.”
She didn’t want to hear the regret and sympathy in his voice. Didn’t need that clouding her judgment. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s out there.”
“I’m going out. Come with me. Take a break, and walk away for a little while.”
“I’m good here, thanks.” She continued to study her laptop for answers it didn’t have.
Silence greeted her, stretching on as the seconds counted down. She swallowed hard when she finally heard footsteps moving away, and a moment later, the front door opened and closed.
He was right about one thing. She couldn’t just sit there all day. What was she supposed to do, though? She felt like she needed to take more action, but if she went about it the wrong way—if she retaliated, if she tried to defend herself outside of appropriate channels—it could backfire on her quickly. Sticking up for herself had the potential to make things far worse, if she wasn’t completely careful about it.
The familiar 8-bit chime of her phone penetrated the silence in the apartment, and she grabbed the device without thought. At least it was a little distraction. “Hello?”
A harsh chuckle assaulted her eardrums, and sent an unpleasant shudder over her. A male voice asked, “How do you like it?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll fuck you hard and fast, or eat you out until you scream. Which one gets me five stars on my next game?”
She disconnected the call, tossed the phone aside, and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. What the fuck? The ring filled the room again, and she ignored it. God, they had her home number. She needed some air. She pulled on a baggy top, grabbed a pair of oversize sunglasses, and left the ringing behind her as she walked out of the apartment.
****
Jaycie wandered the grocery store, not focusing on much of anything. It wasn’t that she needed food, though she tried to justify some purchase, so she didn’t look like a crazy woman pushing an empty cart up and down aisles, but no one knew her here. She’d never realized before how much she valued her anonymity. How much security it gave her to know no one could find her.
“Hey, babe.”
Her insides twisted in on themselves before her brain finished putting a name to the voice. She whirled to face Kent, wiping all emotion from her expression to hide the nausea surging inside. “Hello.”
“Don’t be like that.” He stepped around her cart, and stopped just a few inches away from her. “I missed you.”
“I doubt that.” She poured ice into her tone, and tried to use the same calm to numb the rest of her.
“I’ve been looking for you since you left Nick. I just want to explain. Make us work.” He rested a hand at her hip and pulled her closer.
She jerked away from his touch. “I already understand.” Wait. Had Nick given out her number? The idea flashed in her head, and she couldn’t shake it. He hadn’t pieced together what she did for a living in three years, but since Rich knew, Nick did. She didn’t want to think about how bad this could get, but if the phone call earlier hadn’t hammered in the severity of the problem, facing Kent did.
“But you don’t.” He moved toward her, and she stepped away until her back collided with a display rack. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. Tell me what I did wrong,” he said.
She didn’t want to have this conversation on normal days, but now it was the last thing her brain was prepared to handle. “I’ve told you I’m not interested,” she said through clenched teeth. “You don’t get it, and that’s the problem.”
He rested his hand at her hip again, this time hooking his thumb through her belt loop. He pressed his frame against hers, pinning her between him and the shelf, but his deceptively soothing tone never shifted. “You know you want me. I’ll prove it to you.”
She summoned all of her control to keep her voice from shaking. “If you think doing this here, in a public place, will keep me from making a scene, you’re wrong. Let go of me now, or I will knee you in the nuts and scream so loud they’ll hear me at the other side of the strip mall.”
He moved several paces back, hands raised in surrender. “No reason to get violent, babe. I just want to talk.”
She stared him down, heart hammering inside her chest, possibilities racing through her head. Should she scream anyway? Would he let her go, if she walked away? Was she overreacting?
A mother with two children in tow turned the corner, and meandered down the aisle. Kent put several feet between himself and Jaycie, and jamme
d his hands in his pockets. “We’ll catch up later, babe. I miss you.” His voice grew in volume, loud enough to be heard but not so much it sounded unnatural. “Good luck with that whole work thing.”
As he disappeared down another aisle, her resolve crumbled, and her legs threatened to give out from under her. His parting words echoed in her head. The instant she got home, she was changing her phone number, and figuring out what to do if he had her home address.
Chapter Eleven
When Ethan got home, Jaycie was on the couch, knees to her chest, watching something with a lot of explosions.
“Hey.” He set his keys on the end table by the door, and kicked off his shoes. “I tried to text you, see if you wanted me to pick you up something to eat, but I got a weird error that your number didn’t work. Are you all right?”
She glanced up, and he finally registered her drawn expression and the way her mouth turned down. She gave him an almost glassy stare. “Sorry about that.” There was no emotion in her voice. “I had to change it.”
He waited for more of an explanation.
Instead she said, “But I’m good, thanks. I’m not really hungry.”
He dropped onto the couch next to her, unsure how close was appropriate. He couldn’t tell what kind of vibe she was giving off, but it wasn’t a good one. “Why did you change it?”
She creased her forehead, her shoulders stiffened, and then the weird neutral expression slid back into place. “The wrong people had it.”
“Can I have the new one, or am I one of the wrong people?” He tried to keep his tone light. What had he missed while he was gone? The staring-off-into-space thing she’d been doing earlier was disconcerting, but this was more than odd. She’d been freaked out because her name had gotten out. Had things gotten worse in the last few hours?
“I guess. Just swear you won’t give it to anyone.”
That couldn’t be a good sign. Did she think he had before, despite his assurances? “Of course not. Never.”
The #5Star Affair (Love Hashtagged Book 1) Page 7
