Exposure • h.s.

CHAPTER7.

313 days before the deal.

I find myself in a long, dark hallway, the floor melting beneath my feet. I decide to seek shelter in one of the rooms at the end of the corridor, but as soon as I enter, the room bursts into flames, the door closing behind me. I scream desperately for help, but no one answers. I only hear a familiar British voice whisper, "Is this the end you've come to after Cornell?"

Two hands slowly slide toward my neck, tightening their grip, suffocating me. I struggle to break free, but the hands won't let go. Then, I see two green eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Enjoying the sweet taste of humiliation, aren't we?"

I jolt awake, my heart racing with fear. Inside the room, a warm light pours through the open door, illuminating my face, almost with the same intensity as that scary fire I was dreaming of. I calm myself, realizing that yes, I'm alive, and yes, I'm still terrified.

My phone starts vibrating insistently from somewhere on the bed, so I toss the blankets aside, pushing them away, and snatch it just as I locate it. It's 10:03 am, and I have 13 missed calls from Tony.

Oh hell no.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." I mutter as I put on a pair of mom jeans, randomly picked from the pile of clothes I've left heaped on the chair since yesterday. I throw on one of my "shitty day" hoodies, slip on blue Converse sneakers, and rush toward the bathroom. When I open the door, there's Ali, Liz's girlfriend, wearing my bathrobe after coming out of the shower.

"Good morning, Mabs," she greets me, oblivious to the fact that I'm practically flailing like a madwoman while brushing my teeth. I respond with a muffled "'morning" as my mouth is filled with toothpaste.

"Did you go to The Box yesterday?" she asks, combing her hair with what is clearly my hairbrush, as I notice a few straight, blond hairs tangled in it.

I'm surprised by her sudden curiosity, wondering how she came by that information.

"How do you know that?"

"Liz told me you went to a club in SoHo yesterday," she explains. "And then I saw your article about the fire at the same place where Harry Styles was, so... it clicked."

The article. I almost forgot about the article.

I freeze, maybe a bit too obviously, and Ali feels the need to add, "congrats, by the way! It literally blew up, it got reposted by all media outlets. TMZ too."

Whispers of remorse echo in my mind, and I'm overwhelmed by the anticipation, as deep down I know the irreversible damage my drunken actions from last night have caused to my career and my very self.

***

I get to the office around 11, after waiting forever for the subway and quickly stopping at a café down the street to grab lunch for Tony and myself. Maybe this small gesture of kindness will soften the blow of his inevitable anger when he sees me.

After a brief 'hello' to the receptionist, I race up the stairs, hoping to avoid encountering anyone before reaching my desk, and Tony gives me a fierce look as I get there.

"We need to talk about a few things, Mabel. Let's meet in the conference room upstairs in half an hour... that's if you don't want to grab a coffee first, considering you seem to have taken it rather easy today."

Amazing.

Ali's words come back to me—all the online tabloids reposted my article. I didn't expect it to spread like wildfire, but at the same time, I could imagine it happening because the attached photos gave the article credibility.