Page 62 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

Margo wasn’t sure she could have gotten through that night without Jinx. He was instantly pragmatic. He told her to delete her personal accounts on both Facebook and Instagram so that SlutSleuth couldn’t repost. “Who do you think did this?”

“My guess,” Margo said, “is that Becca went to that party, and they all got drunk and did it together.”

“Makes sense,” Jinx said, and she was relieved he didn’t seem to have plans to put on his leather jacket and head on over there.

They went into Margo’s HungryGhost Instagram and blocked every single person Margo could even remember from high school, as well as the SlutSleuth account.

“Do you want to close down the HungryGhost account too?” Jinx asked.

She didn’t. She really didn’t. Since the KikiPilot video she had almost thirty thousand followers on Instagram, and it was frankly addictive. Earlier she’d posted a picture of a dang smoothie and it got six hundred likes. Plus, money and blah blah blah.

“I mean, my hope,” Margo said, “is that they did this drunk, and in the morning, they’re gonna feel a little gross about it and probably not do it again.”

Jinx thought about it. “That’s possible,” he said. “The main thing I worry about is if they post in the comments of your OnlyFans account. That’s what you don’t want, them posting your real name and address where those guys who want to melt you in acid can find it.”

Margo had not even thought of this and logged in to her OnlyFans with her heart pounding. There wasn’t anything yet, everything looked normal. Or as normal as it ever was. Since the TikToks took off, the comments and messages had gotten a lot more fun. I want you to take me to your planet and feed me shards of metal and plastic. Another one said, Would you consider a threesome with me and Rigoberto?

“Jesus,” Margo said, suddenly realizing. “The custody thing! If they didn’t know about the OnlyFans before, they certainly do now.”

“Oh man,” Jinx said. “Well, I mean, does he follow you?”

“I blocked him way back when.”

“So there’s a chance he didn’t see,” Jinx said.

“Fuck, this is so fucked,” Margo said.

“Who did that girl say it was? Who saw you on OnlyFans?” Jinx asked.

“Oh, Lenin Gabbard.”

“If he’s one of your fans, block him.”

“I guess I’ll look, but most of them don’t use pictures or real names.”

Around midnight, she got a text from Shyanne.

I have never been more ashamed in my life. Please don’t come to Vegas. I don’t think I can stand to even look at you. Kenny saw those pictures. I had to look him in the eye and say yep that’s my daughter. And that I had known you were doing it and hadn’t told him, and I told him you promised you stopped and that you lied to me, but he was furious and now he is sleeping in the rec room and I will never forgive you for this, Margo. I never will.

Margo peered at her phone, dazed. “What is it?” Jinx said.

“Nothing,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about Shyanne with Jinx. She also did not want to examine why, for some reason, her main emotional response to this text was relief at not having to go to Vegas.

“Try to sleep,” Jinx said. “You can find Lenin Gabbard in the morning.”

Margo nodded in the darkened living room, lit only by her laptop and phone screen. “I will,” she said.

But she didn’t. She stayed up until three looking through her fans, trying to find him, as though finding him and blocking him would make her safe again. Except she had no idea which account was his and eventually she gave up and fell asleep, dizzy and screen blind.

The next morning, Margo called Rose to tell her she’d been doxxed.

“What a shitty thing, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay. It’s weird, though. It feels unsafe to have so many people mad at me. I don’t know how trolls do it. Or heels in wrestling—like, what is it like to have a whole stadium of people booing you?” She didn’t mention that her mother was one of those people, or that she’d been disinvited from the wedding, or that Mark was suing for custody, or that Kenny had slept in the rec room, or that the Virgin Mary had been raped.

“There’s a kind of freedom in that, I bet,” Rose said.

“How so?”

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