Page 90 of Well, Actually
“You mean…?”
Rylie’s nod is slow. Sure. A support beam in my crumbling life. “If anyone could do it, it’s you.”
I stare at him, my heart beating in an uneven rhythm, blood stinging as it pumps through my veins to every muscle. What he’s saying is ridiculous. Outlandish. A huge risk to the few threads of dignity I have left and my actively deteriorating self-esteem.
Rylie’s eyes scour over my face, reading everything there. “I support you no matter what, but I also know you’re the best, maybe the only, person to bring justice to all of this.”
He believes in me.
Holy hell,Ibelieve in me. The thought seems so audacious, so radical, so much bigger than I’ve ever allowed myself to feel. Rylie doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe as I stare at him, gathering my thoughts in rapid, fragmented pieces as I map out a plan. An attack.
Without looking away from his quicksilver eyes, I say, “Aida, think you could add me to that group chat?”
Chapter 25
One month later
Former Soundbites Media employee Eva Kitt has collected the harrowing stories from various whistleblowers at the company who suffered from workplace bullying and harassment by executives, particularly founder Landry Doughright and her son, William. Furthermore, Soundbites has released an official statement that they are utilizing a third party to investigate the accusations, including the allegation that William Doughright leaked private photos and videos of one of the employees to generate media buzz and traffic to the site…
My exposé came out in theTimestwo days ago. It was quickly picked up byThe Washington Post, CNN,USA Today, andlocal news stations. I got an email that theTodayshow might run a segment about the ongoing investigation.
Goddamn, does revenge taste so fucking sweet.
“Were you scared to write the article?” Rylie asks as we finish up our podcast recording. I gave him an exclusive interview because sometimes (rarely) I can be a really good girlfriend. We’re live-streaming the episode, the engagement through the roof.
I chew on my lip, giving serious thought to the question. “I wasn’t scared to tell the truth, but I was scared about the personal repercussions I’d face.”
“What do you mean?”
I give him a mildly sardonic glance. “A video of us making out started circulating at a rapid rate and the vast majority of comments were essentially slut-shaming me for kissing my boyfriend and asserting that any career success I have is because I fucked my way there. A piece looking at a hostile work environment rooted in misogyny and my own experiences with it didn’t exactly seem like a safe topic to explore.”
Rylie nods, eyes glittering with pride as he looks at me. “I agree, so many of the responses to that video were either congratulatory toward me for being with someone like you, or tearing you down for sharing an intimate moment with someone.”
I snort. “It wasn’t congratulatory for being with someonelike me, it was pure and simple locker-room talk asking how I stacked up.”
“Fair,” Rylie says, expression dipping into a frown. “It was disgusting.”
“No shit.”
“So why did you do it? Why did you take the risk and write the exposé that you did?”
My heart squeezes as I reflect on the past few weeks, the brutal rush to find out everything I could, the gut-twisting horror at how widely and deeply Landry and other execs had sliced their way through the office for years, belittling people to crumbs in some sick power trip. The crazed anxiety that I wouldn’t help anyone in time, wouldn’t get their story in front of people fast enough for anything to actually be done.
And then I think of Rylie—his soft, exuberant presence through every second of it. The brush of his thumbs at my cheeks when I’d cry in frustration. The gentle kneading of his fingers along my shoulders and neck as I worked well into the early morning, typing and researching in a desperate hunt to find my own purpose in the pain of it all.
“I did it because I wanted to support other people experiencing the soul-sucking demoralization of working for someone who treats them like less than a person. We’ve become far too comfortable as a society disregarding the humanity of people and using them as output machines we can abuse until they break.” I take a deep breath, eyes locked on Rylie’s. I see the glint of affection in his as he gives me the space to keep going. “I felt what it was like to finally be unconditionally supported, and encouraged to demand better for myself, and I wanted to carve out a space for other people to get there too.”
Rylie’s smile is wide and adoring, sending butterflies through my stomach. “So what comes next for the indomitable Eva Kitt?”
I laugh, a soft, breathy sound that I would have felt embarrassed about two months ago, but now feels as indulgent as chocolate cake, and Rylie’s resulting smile is even sweeter.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, glancing at my silenced phone on the table. The screen hasn’t stopped lighting up since the article released. Talk show invites and legal threats and painfully honest notes from people who resonate with the story. There were some job offers, even a literary agent inquiring if I had interest in representation for a book of essays based on my Babble posts. “Maybe I’ll start a podcast.”
Rylie’s grin is electric, flooding me with currents of joy. “Hell, you could come on and cohost this one. God knows I could use the help.”
“I’m sure I’d add a level of likeability that you’re missing.”
He laughs so loudly, he has to cover the mic. He keeps his palm cupped over the microphone, using his free hand to guard his mouth from the camera as he whispers, “I like you so damn much, it’s impossible to me that anyone wouldn’t.”
