Page 137 of Charming Like Us
Please don’t be a problem.
Not right now, not when I want to be here for Jack. Attention back on him, his face is more torn up. “No, no…”
“What is it?” I ask.
He looks sick as he scrolls.
It’s tearingmeup.
“Jack,” I say forcefully.
He shoves his phone in my chest. “They’re all over my Instagram comments.”
“They’ve already been all over your comments.” And he’s largely pushed past the vitriol
“Not like this.” His jaw tics. “They’re also onWe Are Calloway’sFacebook Page, the docuseries’ Instagram account.”
I look at the comment section.
Stop filming the Cobalts! Quit NOW!
You should be fired!
Youre disgusting. Put ur camera down.
Homewrecker! Quit filming Charlie!
We wont watch We Are Calloway until ur gone!!!
#FireJackHighland
#FireJackHighland
#FireJackHighland
They’re trying to get him fired.
It’s a hard kick to my gut, and this has to be a hundred times more painful for Jack. This is his career. The dream he’s been chasing, the ladder he’s been climbing, his life. It’s starting to crumble around him.
Around us.
I glare at the hashtag. “I’ll post on my Instagram account again,” I tell him. I already re-downloaded the app I deleted, and I’ve been sharing cute couple photos of us. But week-old pics. I use the accounttactically, and I don’t want anyone to know our location in real-time.
Jack rubs his pained eyes. He’s better versed in public perception than me, and he must know it’s a weak attempt. His hand drops with a tight breath. “They’re calling for mytermination.They could be emailing the other producers, Oscar.”
“Would they really fire you over some hostile stans with hurt feelings?”
Jack shrugs tensely, then grabs his phone out of my hand. “It’sterriblepublicity, and firing me could be an easy way to wipe their hands clean of the mess.” He blinks back this tortured look.
I can’t even wrap an arm around him right now. “The Hales, the Meadows, the fucking CobaltEmpirewon’t let that happen to you, Highland.”
He shakes his head, his chest taut like weight is bearing on him. “You don’t know that for certain, Os.”
I’m about to offer greater reassurance—all that I have—when movement catches my eye.
Fuck my job.
I don’t know how to live with it. Definitely don’t know how to live without it. I slip Jack an apologetic look before I run towards a sorority girl in a striped bikini.
