Page 108 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“Coach was hot for her back in the day, but then she destroyed his football career, but now he’s hot for her again,” Marcus says, filling the guy in.

I shoot him a look then sigh. “What the kid said.”

Officer Perkins laughs as he climbs back into the squad car. “I’ll stay and leave the lights on. Make sure no one else busts you.”

“Appreciate that,” I say as I climb back up to the top of the billboard. I stare at her face as I work, the undeniable feelings of love in my chest only amplifying.

Hailey Fucking Harris has struck again.

The event room in the West Beverly Hotel is already packed with people attending the life coaching conference. Exhibitor booths are positioned along the edge of the room—coaches and influencers showcasing their successes and meeting one-on-one with potential clients. In the center of the room, chairs face a main stage where the presentations and panels are set to take place. There’s an electric vibe in the air as upbeat, motivational music plays.

I see a lot of familiar faces. Life coaches I’ve followed throughout the years and social media influencers that I recognize from TikTok. There’s a lot of energy in the room and despite the pitfalls that can accompany this career, I know a lot of lives will be impacted today. I truly believe that.

I check the time on the wall and take a deep breath as I cross the room, then head held high, I make my way to the stage.

Coming today was the right decision, but my heart is pounding and I feel the judgment and hear the whispers. I need to drown out the noise and focus on why I’m here. Four weeks ago, I was coming to impart knowledge, sell myself, and grow my follower and client list. Now I’m desperate and clinging to my last shreds of hope that I can rebuild my own business, my own future, in the face of adversity and public scrutiny.

I’ve never felt this struggle for self-confidence—at least not since I was a dorky teenage high school mascot, desperate to fit in. Desperate for people to see me and accept me and let me be me.

Strange being back in these feelings, but they were the last time I felt true drive and determination to discover who I am. I had to be accepting of myself, then others followed.

I hope it works the same way now.

My palms sweat as I sit on the panel with Spencer Stanley moments later. He’s dressed in a slim-fit charcoal suit and electric-blue dress shirt—power colors. Confidence and charisma ooze from him and I can understand why so many clients choose to work with him. As much as he’s had a part in dismantling my reputation, he does have an energy about him that draws people. He turns toward me. “Gotta say, Harris, I’m surprised you’re here.”

I’ve been in competition with Spencer. In the sports world he was always two steps ahead and that bothered me, but not anymore. “I’m looking forward to hearing how you approach your business,” I say sincerely. “I think I have a lot to learn still.”

He was obviously expecting a more arrogant Hailey. That Hailey is gone. Humbled, respectful, grateful Hailey is the only Hailey I’ve got going for me anymore. The only one I care to be.

His expression takes on an unexpected look of respect as he nods. “You’ve got balls, Harris. You’ll be okay.”

The words cause unexpected tears to spring to my eyes and I swallow hard and blink them away quickly as the panel organizer joins us onstage and starts the session.

I stare out into the crowd of faces as people take their seats. Most seem untrusting and critical, the way I expected, but I take several deep breaths in and out and prepare for anything that comes my way.

Questions from the audience come in—all for Spencer. With each one, I realize that I’d been prepared for an attack—for personal questions and for the crowd to want to drive the wound deeper with the same insults I’ve been receiving online. I hadn’t been prepared for this—being completely irrelevant and ignored.

This is definitely worse.

No one wants to hear anything I have to say. Not my life coaching advice or my excuses.

I sit back in the chair and focus on the knowledge Spencer is imparting on the crowd. He’s smart and successful for a reason. My jealousy and competition with him had always clouded how I saw him and his message. But he’s doing good things for a lot of people and I’m suddenly appreciating the value of what that means.

A reporter fromMedia Magstands and addresses me. “This one is for Hailey.”

I sit straighter and force a smile. Here we go.

“Is it true that you learn personal information about your clients to use it to your own advantage?”

I was expecting to be called out, but it’s still hard to calm my racing pulse and think through my response rationally. Honesty. Complete, transparent honesty is the only way to get through this.

“No. Not at all,” I say.

“You didn’t get close to Sonia Banks to steal her fiancé?”

“That was a big misunderstanding.” Simple, honest answers.

“The kiss looked pretty straightforward,” the reporter says.

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