Chapter 10 - The Story They Could Sell
I told Ethan before he could ask.
“I hit a man.”
We were standing in his driveway.
He looked from the message to me.
“What?”
“At my last job. A diner outside town. I hit a customer.”
“Why?”
“He grabbed a seventeen-year-old hostess and wouldn’t let go.”
Ethan waited.
“I pulled him away. He shoved me. I swung.”
“Was anyone charged?”
“No. The owner fired me. The man knew his brother.”
I hated how it sounded.
Like a story made up after the fact.
“Her name was Abby,” I said. “She doesn’t owe me anything. I don’t want people showing up at her house.”
Ethan put his phone away.
“I didn’t ask you to defend yourself.”
“Someone will.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
By afternoon, the story had changed online.
I was no longer just a thief.
I was violent.
Unstable.
A woman with a history of confronting customers.
Vanessa’s attorney gave a statement outside his office.
He said the footage lacked context.
He said Vanessa had been attempting a handoff.
He said a server’s reckless decision to carry glassware near an infant had contributed to a tragic misunderstanding.
I watched the clip once.
Then I shut my laptop.
My apartment felt too quiet.
I couldn’t carry trays. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt that half second when Oliver had been in the air and I had not yet reached him.
At three in the morning, I called the counseling number the hospital had given me.
At nine, I made an appointment.
At ten, someone knocked.
It was Abby.
She was nineteen now, with shorter hair and the same serious eyes.
“You could’ve called me,” she said.
“I didn’t want to drag you into it.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere. You got me out.”
She held up her phone.
“I still have the messages I sent my mom that night.”
Behind her stood a woman in a business suit.
“My name is June Wallace,” the woman said. “I’m an attorney. Abby is my niece.”
I stepped aside.
June looked at the papers covering my table.
“First, we preserve everything. Second, you stop reading comments. Third, nobody interviews you alone.”
“I can’t afford—”
“We’ll discuss that after we deal with the people lying about you.”
For the first time in days, I felt something besides fear.
Then June read the message from the unknown number.
Her expression changed.
“Who else knew about that diner?”
I swallowed.
“Paul.”
May you like
She looked up.
“Then he may still be helping her.”
