“Andrea, what in the everloving fuck is going on? Why are all these fucking stations running this bullshit story about me being an insane, vain, attention seeking piece of shit and making up this story about my father?”

I hear Andrea blow out a loud breath. “I’ve got a contact over at DPK News. Apparently the order is to keep running the story about you has come from on high.”

“On high? What the hell does that mean? And I’m sorry for yelling. I’m not mad at you. You’re doing a great job. Have I told you what a great job you’re doing yet today?” I reiterate.

Andrea’s been giving me continuous updates on the status of the story about me and Chandler’s father. But today has seemed like someone is waging a PR attack against me.

“You have told me that, but there is no need. This is a mess. Honestly, ‘on high’ could mean a lot of things. But in this case, it looks like someone from the board is telling DPK to run it. One of the owners, possibly. And other stations are picking it up and running with it because of its sensational nature.”

I facepalm, pacing back and forth in my apartment in view of the city.

She continues. “This mess is reminiscent of what happened years ago with Jake. It was like some switch got pulled and everyone tried to hate on him as much as they could. It’s a shitstorm, no doubt, but remember—this will pass. People’s attention spans are short these days. Next weekend the story will be about something else. In the meantime, I’ll give you an update as soon as I can tomorrow morning. It’s getting late tonight, and I need to call it a day.”

“I appreciate you working on a Sunday night.”

“Anything for a friend. Talk again soon.”

I hang up take a deep breath, and try calling Lacy again.

It goes straight to voicemail. “Dammit,” I mutter.

Exhaling, I sit down at my computer and Google my name again.

My stomach lurches when my name pops up in headlines like ‘Reckless Accuser,’ ‘Is Carter Flynn washed up?’ ‘Flynn Takes Down Honest Business Man in Attempt to Rebuild Image.’ ‘Carter Flynn admits to steroid usage.’

I make a face at the computer. Steroids? Really? I’m skinny muscular like Brad Pitt in Snatch, not like Arnold. No one’s fact checking these articles, obviously.

Who in God’s name is okay-ing these stories?

Fuck the internet.

I decide to read the full story from DPK news, but when I type in the first “D,” Discover dot com autofills the browser, and the page loads.

That’s funny. I don’t have a Discover card.

For fun, I click onto discover dot com, and see what comes up.

It’s Lacy’s credit card log-in. She must have used my computer at some point, and her password was saved.

I press enter, and log in. I scrunch up my face at the number I see on the screen.

She’s got a balance of almost Thirty thousand dollars. What is she spending money on?

I smirk a little to myself.

This would be a fun little gesture to cheer her up. A valentine’s day present, since the day’s coming up.

I add a new payment method, and pay the balance in full.

I feel oddly good helping Lacy with her finances. She’s never discussed them with me explicitly, but I can only imagine the kind of financial duress her family must be under with her father’s long hospital stay. It’s the least I can do, and it’s totally worth it just for the smile on her face.

Walking over to my bar, I make myself an old-fashioned and sit down on the couch, thinking to throw on a show to take my mind off the craziness of the day. Game of Thrones, perhaps?

Nah. Can’t keep watching that one without Lacy.

Smokey joins me on the couch, sitting in my lap for a little bit, which she rarely does lately.

“Alright, buddy. Can you tell I’m in a little bit of trouble?”

She purrs.

“That’s right. It’s all lies, I tell you.”

Just then, my phone buzzes and I pick it up to view a text from Lacy.

Laces: I fucking hate you, Carter Flynn.

I squint, rereading the text.

What the fuck does this mean?

My mind flows to the times last summer when she was pretending to have a boyfriend to mess with me, and I tried so hard to hate her, too.

I can’t tell if this text is sarcastic, though, or if she’s actually is feeling angry about something.

I text her back immediately, but the message shows undelivered. I can’t stop a sinking feeling from taking me over.