Page 12 of Filthy Rich

“You’ve never heard anyone with a voice as beautiful as hers.” I forgot Jake said that, too.

But this I remember—Patrice’s eyes spark as she says, “Or a face quite so ugly.”

The video cuts then, and there’s just a blue screen with the words VOTE FOR WHO’S UGLY IN THE COMMENTS.

Only, in the comments, there’s only one option: Patrice Jouveau.

That’s when I grab my phone and look at the account—it only has this one post, and the title of the account is PATRICEJOUVEAUSUCKS.

An anonymous hater? At least from an anonymous source, very few people probably saw it. . .except when I check the views, it’s already in the millions. Tens of millions. And the comments. . .there are so many comments.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

Chapter 4

Jake

Dear Dad:

I’m glad you had that Quintin guy reach out. They check every single email I send you officially, I’m sure, so it was hard to say anything useful at all. You always manage to find the right people. I’m sure you’ll be free in no time.

I did want to tell you all the ways I’ve already taken advantage of the Fansee family. They really are easy marks. I have to assume they had no idea what they were doing when they got you caught. They’re not smart enough to have done it intentionally.

Since coming here, they’ve been buying me lots of clothes and shoes, and they’re paying for acting club and the plays for theater. They treat me just like every other stray they’ve brought in, and believe me, the other kids are just as stupid as they are.

The worst one is Bea, who seems to think she’s going to save me—I’m convinced they must go to meetings and pat each other on the back for how they’re saving a bunch of irredeemable kids. Can you even imagine being that dumb?

But maybe you don’t need to target them when you get out, because trust me, I’m already bleeding them dry. They just have that little hotel, and I’m not sure it’s very profitable. You’d be better off searching for richer marks in the time you have. These guys have made themselves into victims, and they have a bunch of leeches already attached. I can’t wait for you to get out so you can break me out of here, and when you do, let’s get out of here as fast as we can.

Love,

Jake

I’m mid-stretch after waking when I remember what I did. It’s in my contract that I won’t say anything disparaging about the film, its executives, or the other actors. Anything that might harm any of them is grounds for disciplinary action—a court can literally put a price tag on the damage I’ve done and fine me for it.

I don’t regret it.

But I’d be a moron not to be nervous.

I didn’t attack Patrice, but I did kind of attack the executives for their decision. They’re the ones who are the most likely to sue. We’re too far into filming for them to replace me, I think. They’d lose their shirts if they did.

But if this film tanks because I criticized them, they could make it very hard for me to line up my next project.

I’m really going to be kicking myself if I’m stuck filming infomercials for the next decade because of my white knight moment. If my dad were here, he’d be shouting at my naïveté. Clearly my years with do-gooders like Bea, Seren, and Dave have warped my brain. I finally force myself to pick up my phone, and it’s bad.

114 text messages.

16 missed calls.

I knew there would be fallout, but why are six of them from Bea? Is she calling to thank me for standing up for her friend? She sent me a link.

When I click on it, I can’t help my sideways smile.

Someone—a very smart, very sneaky, and probably well-connected someone—yoinked the studio feed and posted it online with just the right hashtags. I really, reeally doubt it was Octavia. She rolled over and accepted the pronouncement. She almost looked relieved not to be doing such a high-profile job.

No, it wasn’t her. I’m sure of it.

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