Page 13 of Filthy Rich

But who did post the video?

I search the comments for clues, hoping the original poster replied to something. Of course, there are always plenty of trolls online. I often wonder just what sort of human would make a comment with the ugly, rude, and completely moronic trash I regularly see. The handful of comments about Patrice being right, saying that Octavia is ugly make me squeeze my phone a little too hard.

But for every comment like that, there are ten more defending Octavia.

Posting this was a calculated gamble, and it was clearly put up by someone who had something to lose from Patrice taking over. There aren’t many people in that category. The studio was making the safe play—selling out the new for the sure-thing. I get why they’d do it, being a group of conservative businessmen, mostly.

The studio will be upset by this, and I realize, slowly because it’s early, that I’m probably their number one suspect. Bea was upset, and she’s my sister. Once Easton complained, which I’m sure he did, they’d know her position on it if they had any doubts. Then when they checked my social media. . .they’d see my position.

In support of my suspicion, I notice that Eddy, our executive director, called me four times. Adam, the producer, called me five. Even Frances called me—the woman who makes finance and budget cuts—and I only have her number saved as a courtesy. She’s never called me about anything else. I get memos and information from her via email, but for her to call. . .

It must be really bad.

I call Adam first. I know him best, and he understands how I feel about Bea and by extension, Octavia.

“This is bad, Jake. You posted that, and then you ducked our calls?”

“My post was even-handed, considering how you handled the so-called plan to cut Octavia out. You signed a contract with her and Bea.”

“They’ll still be paid,” Adam says. “Eddy says you knew that.”

“All I said was that trading Octavia for Patrice was a mistake. I didn’t insult you guys or Patrice.”

He grunts.

“And you should know—I have no idea who leaked that video.”

“You’re saying it wasn’t you?” Adam grunts again. “And I should believe that. . .why?”

“If I’d been smart enough to think about leaking that video,” I say, “why on earth would I also post on my social, drawing a blinking line right to me?”

“So you could ask me that very question?”

“Yeah.” I can’t help my chuckle. “Not that smart.”

When he grunts a third time, I wonder whether he’s sitting on the toilet. “I wish I could believe that.” He hangs up.

That could’ve gone better, but it also could’ve been worse. No threats. No swearing. No demands, either. He’s probably not sure what to demand now, because with the number of views on that video, it’s surely been duet-ed, stitched, and remade about a zillion times. There’s no shutting it down at this point.

And it’s a real video—not spliced.

Anyone who has met Patrice in real life, even for a moment, will immediately realize she’s a horrible person. So who’s smarter than me and willing to stand up for Octavia, but not brave enough to attach their name to it? I’d like to buy them a drink. Could it be my sister? She wouldn’t have wanted to implicate me, but she would have wanted justice for Octavia. She also would have been plenty smart enough. With Easton’s help, she could have doctored the video.

I call her.

“Did you do it?” Her first words basically tell me it wasn’t her.

“Well, shoot,” I say. “I was hoping it was you.”

“The studio’s released a statement,” Bea says. “Two minutes ago. They say they never had a switch planned, and that Octavia currently has and always has had their full support.”

I can’t help my smile. “Well, that’s the first good news since yesterday. They’re running scared.”

“They want proof it was you,” Bea says. “They may have been forced to keep Octavia in for vocals, but they’ll want someone’s head to roll for having their hand forced.”

“I hope they don’t find out who it was,” I say. “Because you’re right. They’ll kill them.”

“Same.”

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