Page 92 of Strut

I swallowed hard, tears pricking my eyes. Was I ever gonna stop fucking crying? Marco reached across to squeeze my hand, while Tim scooted close and put his arms around me.

“Thanks.” I said, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I needed to hear that more than I thought.”

“We’re all fucking sick of this shit.” Tim sat back.

“So what happened to Conrad?” I asked quietly, not sure I even wanted to know. “If he doesn’t want you to say anything, that’s fine.”

“No, he’s happy for everyone here to know. He got lucky. He wasn’t having an ounce of Darcy’s advances and pushed back, but just when Darcy was getting physical, his assistant arrived to grab something he’d left behind and Conrad took the opportunity to get out of there.”

“Fucking Gary,” I grumbled. “That’s his assistant.” The spineless man had to know something was going on.

“Right. Well, Conrad obviously didn’t get the Valentino campaign.” Marco rolled his eyes. “And when he raised the issue with his agency, they called Darcy who accused Conrad of having a fixation and stalking him. He threatened to go to the police and Conrad had nothing to back his story, so the agency didn’t push it. But it was Darcy who was the fucking stalker, not Conrad.”

I swallowed the bile welling up in my throat. Our stories were so fucking similar. “Hunter said he’d heard about the stalking thing. He didn’t even question Darcy’s story.”

“Why would he unless he knew Conrad personally? This stuff about Darcy seems like it’s only just beginning to leak now that he’s a big name. These arseholes are often careful who they approach, going for the best leverage, and no one wants to piss off a kingmaker, right?”

I hesitated, then told them what I hadn’t mentioned to Tim about Darcy calling Cage and what he told the police and how Cage had responded.

The room fell silent and everyone stared.

“What the actual fuck?” Tim gaped.

“I know, right?” I sighed and shook my head. “And he’s been spreading the same lies to others. I’ve had a lot of options cancelled.”

Tim’s eyes glittered with rage. “Fucking hell. Jesus, we need to get this fucker. Marco will give Conrad your number if you’re okay with that?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“And we’re starting a group chat for anyone keen to help. That way we’re ready when Kip gives the go-ahead and we can boost the post through all our networks and try to send it viral, at least within the industry.”

I stared at him. “You do realise it could backfire on all your careers. Cage isn’t going to like—”

“Fuck Cage.” Marco barked. “They ride our coat-tails for all they can get while not really giving a shit about us, or the fact that most of us barely earn enough money to survive. Just look at this place.” He waved a hand around the room. “Ten guys in three fucking bedrooms.”

“Are you sure?” I couldn’t believe what they were laying on the line.

“Yes, we’ve got this,” Tim assured me. “Now go get what you came for and then go love up your man. Leave this to us.” He got to his feet and waved an arm to the others. “Group hug, you bitches.”

And I was dogpiled on the couch.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Alec

I textedHunter I was on my way and then distracted myself with the familiar eccentricity of New York’s subway commuters. Man, I loved this city. I’d barely hit the sidewalk to Hunter’s apartment when my phone buzzed and Kip’s name lit up the screen.

“Hey.” Kip sounded hyped. “We’re posting soon. Keeping it simple. Rhys has talked with a lot of his colleagues in various labels, so they know to watch out for it, and Hunter and Mel have been busy with their industry connections as well, so fingers crossed. I’m flicking you what we came up with. Take a look.”

I exited the sidewalk rush toward an empty stoop and opened the text.

Sexual harassment and assault rife in the fashion industry. No more silence. #modelsMeToo #fashionMeToo #MeToo

“It’s... perfect,” I said, staring at the screen. Simple but perfect. “I wish I could fucking name Darcy, but yeah, this works. I think the cooperative will go for it too, and if we can get them on board along with a few big names, that’ll help.”

“Agreed.” Kip flicked me a cool graphic to go with the post. “There’s a ton of other hashtags to be added, but this is the basic version. I’ve got an influencer friend of mine keeping up with the analytics and we’ve done variations on the post for the different apps. We also included help-line contacts on every one. Beckett’s nephew, Jack, did the design.”

Beckett’s nephew?A thick lump jammed in my throat. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t thank you enough, Kip. Make sure to thank Jack from me.”

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