Figures, he’s probably dating Dahlia. My senses have never led me wrong. I wonder why in the hell I doubted them.
“Katerina was right!” I launch off the bat. “You’re nothing but a lowlife, fake-ass poser with no classical training trying to pull off like you can dance.” The venom pours out of me like vicious poison, free-flowing and aimed right at Dashiell’s heart. “You never cared about me. This was a vendetta for you.”
Dashiell is taken off-guard. He’s winded from demonstrating to Dahlia and has his hand on his hip. He takes in what I’m saying, but his entire face is knit in confusion.
“Well, you did it. Congratulations. I’m ruined. You took me down. Are you happy?” I ask him.
Bronson stands in my corner, nodding at me and glaring at Dash.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Sam. I just took on your whole career. The last thing I want to do is tank it.”
His words knock the wind out of me because I know Dash, and he sounds sincere. His smoky gaze searches mine, and I believe he has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about.
“Did you send those pictures to anyone?”
“What pictures?” His face falls suddenly as he registers what I’m talking about.
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t fucking do that. I deleted them from my phone after I uploaded them to the iCloud.”
Bronson smacks a palm over his face.
“Shit. Oh, fuck!” Dash looks back and forth between the Bronson and me, shaking his head. “They were leaked?” He grabs his head in his hands and tugs his hair, looking like he might explode.
“Your iCloud, Dash?” I ask.
“Yours. You handed over the passwords when you signed the contract. Someone else has access?” he asks, looking petrified.
“You know Katerina used to run all of my social media,” I tell him. Somehow this is even worse, and my heart sinks so low that I wonder if I’ll ever feel happiness again. I look up at Dashiell, and though I’m still angry at him for doing something so stupid, at least I know that leaking the photos wasn’t his intention.
“I’ll fucking kill her!” he roars.
Dahlia slinks off, exiting our psychodrama. Bronson looks uncomfortable. I guess no one likes to hear that a mother sold out her own child.
After this egregious move, I realize that I cannot switch managers and expect everything to run smoothly. If I take away Mother’s power, she’ll fight until she destroys me. If she can’t control me, she won’t stand by and watch someone else do it.
“Let me talk to her. If you approach her with anger, she’ll lash out,” I tell him.
“Well, you’re not going over there alone,” Dash says, and I can tell he won’t budge on this. “Sam, I’m sorry. If I had any inkling she’d stoop so low, I never would have…”
“I know,” I say.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re in the elevator on our way up to confront Mother. I’m sweating, my palms are clammy, and I feel like I might throw up. Dash is acting like a caged animal, pacing and brooding. Right now, I hate Mother, but I can’t stand by and watch someone hurt her either.
“Promise me you’ll stand by for support and not attack my mother.”
“I can’t promise you shit right now, Sam.” Dashiell strikes the wall of the elevator car and the loud noise makes me jump.
This has bad idea written all over it.
When the elevator opens into my parents’ apartment, I don’t know what I expected to see. But Lance sitting on the new sofa by himself isn’t it. He starts when he sees us and immediately slams the laptop shut that he’s browsing on.
For the second time in the longest morning of my life, my perception of what’s transpired shifts. Mother is a beast, but she loves me in her twisted way. I cannot see her posting naked and compromising photos of her only daughter on the internet. Not only would she shun the negative attention it would bring, but Mother probably doesn’t have the technical savvy to pull it off. Lance was always conspiring with her on ways to increase my following. I am astounded at the nerve of this prick, who’s supposed to be a family friend.
“Oh, you’re dead, you piece of shit,” Dashiell growls before leaping down the stairs and throwing himself on Lance.
“Dash, it’s not worth it!” I yell.
But he is already a flurry of fists and rage. Katerina doesn’t even appear to be home from my initial survey. Lance is in my home, hacking my social media with Mother’s laptop.
Lance doesn’t fight back. Maybe he knows he’s gone too far. Dashiell beats him like it’s a fight to the death, pummeling his face repeatedly, his knee digging into Lance’s chest. I never had much affection for the guy, but I cannot stand to watch someone be brutalized. Dashiell has been in serious fights before, but Lance doesn’t even try to defend himself.