Page 60 of The Game Is Afoot

“And my miracle came.” More applause. A joyful shout in the back. “At my next scan, my oncologist said my cancer was gone. He was astonished, shocked. But I knew.” She shakes her head and chuckles softly. “I knew. He had given up on me. ‘The clinical trial failed.’ ” She says it in a whiny voice that can’t possibly be what this doctor sounded like. “But.But.” A single finger in the air signals that this is the take-home, the finale of her performance. In front of me, I notice Christine taking furious notes, nodding the whole time. “You only fail if you quit, and no matter what he told me, what he believed, I was not going toquit my fight against cancer—or in my mission to empower all women to practice self-care. I will make my own miracles.”

Oh myfuckinggod. I already thought this woman was the worst. But did she justpull yourself up by the bootstrapsCANCER? Is she theactual devil?

My wide eyes find Jasmine, and her brow is furrowed, facing her lap. Her phone is now facedown there.

After several minutes of applause, Bethany seamlessly transitions into talk about the structure of her tree-shaped business, where the money moves constantly downstream to nourish everyone. She shares the exciting opportunity everyone in this room has to become part of her quickly growing family of 129 self-care consultants if they just empower themselves to make their own miracles tonight.

One hundred and twenty-nine. This lady gets a cut of 129 consultants’ profits. That’s a whole lot of money movingupstreamto her. And she’s used curing her own cancer as her hook to lure them all in.

I want to stand up and go all “I saw Goody Proctor with the Devil,” get this evil woman on the stake where she belongs. I want to stampede through all these chairs and tackle her with the unbridled rage of a Real Housewife who just got told she’s been put on pause. I want to burn it all down.

But that’s not going to do any good, I know it. These women aren’t going to listen to me. I can’t stop them from believing her scam, that Bethany has the self-care cure to cancer. I’m an outsider here. But Icanfind out if she had anything to do with Cole’s death. I can gather the evidence I need to be sure, to bring justicethere.

I raise my hand and start talking as soon as Bethany makes eye contact. “I’m curious about your new supplement line. Whenis that coming out? What, um…experts did you collaborate with to create them?”

There’s a gasp behind me, and I turn to see Pamela’s jaw dropped in horror that I will no longer be fulfilled by my self-guided silent retreat.

“Thank you for that question,Kim.” Bethany smiles pointedly at my name tag. “I know everyone is buzzing about these and I’ll announceverysoon, but I’m happy to give you all a special little sneak peek.” Next to me, Mackenzie claps in excitement. “I’ve been working for over a year now to develop the exact combination of vitamins, minerals, and botanicals to help you be your best self. This is such a good moment to join our family, because you’re going to get in at the ground floor of something truly revolutionary. And actually, can I have my Clover Scouts friends here stand up? Give these women a round of applause, please.”

Christine and Claudia don’t look as comfortable in the spotlight as Bethany does when all eyes in the room shift to them.

“I’m really excited to share that as part of our philanthropic arm, we’re going to offer these supplements to women who are less fortunate, along with discounted Balanced With Bethany beginning consultant memberships. Thank you to Clover Scouts Troop 1207 for generously funding this special project that’s going to change so many lives. I love seeing young female entrepreneurs already doing so much good for the world.”

What?How is Pearl’s troop funding that? Is this with the cookie money Christine’s been sending emails about? It was already clear that the girls’ vote meant nothing, but what about the parent survey she was passive-aggressively telling us to fill out in her emails? I mean, I didn’t actually fill it out yet…but was it just a formality, too? I’m not about to be selling thosestupid, delicious cookies just so Bethany can getmoremoney funneled straight into her pocket.

Her greed really knows no bounds…but does that extend into murder? She didn’t mention anything about Cole, her former business partner, in that answer.

“Now, I know you probably all have more questions, but I feel like it’s better if we get to know each other and our unique self-care journeys in a less formal setting. Why don’t we all head over to these beautiful tables Pamela has set up for us in the back? There will be a self-care consultant at each table leading you in making some—yay!—face masks!”

“Well, that was bullshit,” Jasmine says when we walk out thirty minutes later with, okay, I’ll admit, baby-soft skin from Bethany’s special-recipe rose face masks. When it became clear that Bethany was going to avoid our table at all costs, and the self-care consultant we were assigned to—Rebecca—spoke exclusively in Bethany-isms, I gave in and rubbed the stuff on my face.

But I don’t feel relaxed at all as we walk back to my car. I feel riled up.

“I know! She’s making bank off all these gullible ladies! Did you hear how she told one of her consultants that they just need towork harderto sell more self-care? I thought the whole point of this waslesswork. And she’s acting like this thing cured her cancer, when it was the doctors! I wonder what they would think about—”

“I don’t think they would think anything,” Jasmine cuts me off. “Because I don’t think they’re real.”

“Yeah! Wait. What?”

“That breast cancer clinical trial she mentioned. It wasn’t at Beachwood Memorial. I know because I helped one of my patients enter it, and I double-checked on their website when she was talking, too. Just in case it changed.” I take in Jasmine’sfurrowed brow again, the expression that’s remained firmly in place since Bethany’s talk, and realize she’s not just skeptical or annoyed—she’s pissed. “It didn’t. It’s at Anders-Bynum. And to my knowledge, Beachwood doesn’t evenhavea substantial oncological department, let alone a research center. That’s why they usually refer out to Anders-Bynum.”

I rush to catch up with her. If that hospital doesn’t have a breast cancer clinical trial…“What does that mean, then? About everything she was saying?”

“That it’s bullshit.”

Jasmine must be able to tell the leaps my mind is making, because she quickly adds, “I don’t know if this makes her a murderer, but Bethany is definitely a liar. She’s lying about her little method curing her cancer, we already knew that. But now? Mavis…I’m not convinced she had cancer at all.”

Seventeen

I’m lying on my backgetting a significant amount of hair ripped out of my face when I finally remember where I recognize Bethany from.

“Holy shit!”

Vicky, the esthetician with severe bangs and sleeves of floral tattoos, tuts and snatches another patch of hair from my unsuspecting follicles with a glob of sugaring paste. “I told you it’s better to come more often, before the hair has had a chance to grow back so…full. Much less painful.”

“No, it’s not that.” I squint one eye open just in time to catch Vicky’s disbelieving eyebrow raise. Her eyebrows are perfectly groomed, unlike the bushy caterpillars I presented her with at the beginning of this appointment.

Bethany. I saw Bethany here, in Vicky’s salon. It must have been the last time I was here, which was…well, a very long time ago. Over a year, Vicky insisted, when she squeezed me in after a cancellation.

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