Page 104 of Deck the Hauls

Shit, what’s the time?

I checked my phone. 2:55.

Oh my god. The story would be published any minute. How had time suddenly passed so quickly?

I breathed out. “No, I’m okay. Thanks, Mom. I might just stay down here.”

Carefully holding the coffee, I climbed up from the ground where I’d been sitting cross‑legged and walked over to the couch. I pulled out my phone and opened the newspaper’s website. Nothing yet. I took a sip of coffee, my heart racing.

Part of me just wanted to disappear, to run away—preferably to Dana’s cabin, with Dana and no cell reception—and hide out for a few weeks until it had all passed. But I also couldn’t look away.

My phone clicked over to 2:58, and I refreshed the website again. Still nothing. I wiped my hands on my pants. God, I was sweaty.

I desperately wanted to hear Dana’s voice. Was it weird to call her? She was probably working.

I dialed her number anyway. The phone rang twice and then went to her voicemail. I slumped back on the couch and refreshed the newspaper website again. 2:59.

Still nothing.

Cat’s number appeared on my screen.

I accepted her call. “Hey. How are you?”

“I’m shitting my pants right now. Sorry if now isn’t a good time. I just thought it might be nice to have each other on the line when it comes out. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty terrified too. I’m glad you called.”

Cat did a sharp intake of breath. “Oh god, it’s three. I think I’m going to be sick.”

I refreshed the newspaper website again, and there it was: Phillip Weatherstone Accused of Sexual Misconduct.

“It’s up,” I said. “Shit.”

I started to read the article, my eyes filling with tears as I reached Cat’s story.

“Shit,” Cat said after a few minutes. “Did you get to the part about his assistant? That’s just awful.”

A former assistant had been willing to share her story anonymously and it was grim.

“What an absolutely terrible human being.”

We kept reading. Rebecca had done an incredible job of weaving Phillip’s misconduct into a gripping tale of how a horrible, powerful man could get away with assaulting women for years through intimidation, payouts, confidentiality agreements and the powerful players in Hollywood turning a blind eye to the rumors.

And then there was my name. My chest constricted. Rebecca had sent me the quotes yesterday for final sign‑off, so I already knew what they said, but still, seeing it there on the website was different.

“Wow,” I said. “I just finished reading. That was…incredibly written and just heart-breaking. I don’t see how he’s going to get out of this one.”

“Fingers crossed he ends up in jail. I’ve started talking to a lawyer about what my options are. And after reading that, if I have even a chance of getting him locked up, I’m going to give it a shot.”

“Can you let me know what they say? Maybe I should consider that too.” I didn’t think what Phillip had done to me had amounted to criminal conduct, but if it would help land him in jail, it was worth exploring.

My phone pinged with a message. It was from one of my co‑stars from Clique.

Emily, I just read the article. I’m so sorry you went through that. He tried something similar on me. Thank you so much for speaking out.

Tears welled in my eyes.

My phone pinged again.