The #5Star Affair (Love Hashtagged Book 1) (8 page)

When are we going to reexamine the lack of integrity in journalism?#5StarFUQ

We’re not even safe doing what we love, without these women cutting us down #5StarFUQ

If J-Dub and Console Power think this is the right way to run a magazine, we’ll prove them wrong. #5StarFUQ

Those were bad, but it was the tweets from people besides Rich, that made Ethan’s blood boil.

#5StarFUQ Fucking cunts don’t even belong in the industry.

Total #5StarFUQ is letting these bitches do anything but cook and spit out kittens

If I ever find out where this J-Dub cunt lives I’ll rape her until she knows her place #5StarFUQ

Fuck. Ethan held the passenger door open while she slid in, still struggling to process the venom. “You’re not safe. How do we stop this?”

“
We
don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I have to do damage control. And maybe not be around anyone right now. I just…” She sighed. “Look, the insults and threats are standard. I can deal with those. But the rest of this is a big deal.” Whatever terror had been there moments ago was hidden behind a stern mask.

The threats were standard? What the hell? He wanted to erase the stress around her eyes. Hurt whoever had done this. But he didn’t know where to start on either front. “Just let me know what I can do.”

Jaycie shifted in her seat again, dragged the seatbelt out a few inches, and then let it slide back into place. They couldn’t get home soon enough. Acid churned in her gut, gnawing at her insides. It wasn’t so much that her real name was out there. She’d expected that to happen eventually, given the company she’d kept for years, though she hadn’t been prepared for it to happen now.

It was the accusations that gnawed at her, and the fact it had blown up overnight. Yesterday she’d just been another name on a page. Sure, she was a well-known enough name that it made it easier to get work, but J-Dub was still just another scribble in an endless sea of scribbles. Now, according to the internet, J-Dub was a woman who lied about her identity for years, and fucked her choice of developers, in exchange for giving them top marks on their games.

She had no idea how she was going to bring this under control, but she had to triage something. If this went on for much longer, it was going to destroy her credibility and cost her jobs. Everyone’s opinion was biased in some way, but no one wanted to think the review they read had been bought. And she hated that someone questioned her integrity enough to accuse her of trading her thoughts to get laid.

“Jace?” Ethan’s voice cut through the haze of rambling thoughts.

She dragged her attention back to her surroundings, almost sobbing with relief to see they were back at the apartment complex.

“I’m here, however you need me.” Concern lined his tone. He sounded so sincere.

Except she couldn’t shut off the part of her wondering if he was the cause of this. She didn’t think he’d done it intentionally—though she’d read Nick wrong all those years, so maybe she’d done it again. The thing was she’d also lived with Nick for almost three years, which meant running into Rich on a regular basis, and her identity never came out. Two weeks with Ethan, and Rich knew.

“Nothing.” She hopped from the car as she spoke. “Just please, don’t do anything else. Let me handle this.”

It took the last of her self-control to keep from sprinting into the apartment. Her fingers twitched, as she situated herself in front of her laptop, pulled up her messenger program, and opened a chat window with her editor, Len, at
Console Power Magazine
.

She sent him a quick note.
Back at my computer. What do you need from me?

The seconds it took to receive a response felt like eons, each tick of the clock winding her entire body tighter. She breathed out, trying to calm herself, when his reply came in.
Right now, these are the two articles in question.
He included links to both.
We look as bad as you, and you know I love you, doll, but you’re one person. We won’t take the heat for this.

She ignored the nickname, tension ratcheting when she clicked the links. Of course. It was the glowing write-up she’d done on DM’s
Enemies of Fortuna
RPG, and the not-so-complimentary one about their FPS. She rubbed her face, rolled her neck, and sent back a reply.
The rumors aren’t true. You know that. I didn’t even know this guy when I reviewed Fortuna.

It doesn’t matter if I know it or not.
Len’s message blinked back at her, glaring, blunt, and lacking reassurance.
The players believe it. This is blowing up. We’re issuing an official statement. You have half an hour to send me your rebuttal, and I’ll include it.

She bit back the urge to ask if he really thought that was going to make a difference. It wasn’t like she had a choice. If they chose to distance themselves from her work, that would only make her life worse. She typed,
I’ll have you something in five minutes. You can edit for grammar, not content. If you post this, it goes up as I wrote it.

Of course.

She minimized the chat window, and pulled up a new email with his name at the top. Subject:
For Immediate Press Release
.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, and forced her thoughts to fall into order. She was moving her fingers across the keyboard before she focused on the screen again.
This morning some disturbing accusations came to light about the professional name I write reviews under, J-Dub. I am going on record as stating the only compensation I receive—monetary or otherwise—comes from the source that publishes my reviews. I do not seek or accept compensation from the party I review or any of their affiliates. All of my reviews are my own opinion, and no one else’s. My opinions are not for sale, regardless of the price.

She started to type that she was disgusted by the allegations, then deleted it. She retyped the line several times, before deciding it was too emotional and sending the note as it was. Never feed the trolls. Never let them see her sweat. She lived by those rules; she wasn’t forgetting them now.

Ethan had nothing to do with this, right? She snarled at the thought the moment it resurfaced. Self-loathing combined with her stress, to chew away at the barely-there leash she had on her thoughts. Worse, she didn’t know if she was disgusted with herself for thinking he might be involved, or for being naive enough to believe he wasn’t. He’d looked furious at the coffee shop. Enough so, she thought he might punch a hole through the table. Then again, Nick had always been sweet too. Obliviously dismissive, but sweet.

Even after she received confirmation from her editor that he had her statement, she sat in her chair, staring at her screen. What was she supposed to do next?

Walk away. That was what she needed to do. This wasn’t such a big deal, right? She’d issue her statement, the chatter would die in a few days, the community would focus on something else, and this would only leave a small blemish on her credibility. It wasn’t like it would destroy her career. Right?

“Are you going to stare at that thing all day?” Despite the words, Ethan’s question sounded sympathetic, as it landed against her back.

She couldn’t face him. Wasn’t sure if it would make things worse or better, but at least as she was, she had some semblance of control over her careening thoughts. “I was thinking about it.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone who you are, and I didn’t.”

She didn’t want to hear the regret and sympathy in his voice. Didn’t need that clouding her judgment. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s out there.”

“I’m going out. Come with me. Take a break, and walk away for a little while.”

“I’m good here, thanks.” She continued to study her laptop for answers it didn’t have.

Silence greeted her, stretching on as the seconds counted down. She swallowed hard when she finally heard footsteps moving away, and a moment later, the front door opened and closed.

He was right about one thing. She couldn’t just sit there all day. What was she supposed to do, though? She felt like she needed to take more action, but if she went about it the wrong way—if she retaliated, if she tried to defend herself outside of appropriate channels—it could backfire on her quickly. Sticking up for herself had the potential to make things far worse, if she wasn’t completely careful about it.

The familiar 8-bit chime of her phone penetrated the silence in the apartment, and she grabbed the device without thought. At least it was a little distraction. “Hello?”

A harsh chuckle assaulted her eardrums, and sent an unpleasant shudder over her. A male voice asked, “How do you like it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll fuck you hard and fast, or eat you out until you scream. Which one gets me five stars on my next game?”

She disconnected the call, tossed the phone aside, and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. What the fuck? The ring filled the room again, and she ignored it. God, they had her home number. She needed some air. She pulled on a baggy top, grabbed a pair of oversize sunglasses, and left the ringing behind her as she walked out of the apartment.

****

Jaycie wandered the grocery store, not focusing on much of anything. It wasn’t that she needed food, though she tried to justify some purchase, so she didn’t look like a crazy woman pushing an empty cart up and down aisles, but no one knew her here. She’d never realized before how much she valued her anonymity. How much security it gave her to know no one could find her.

“Hey, babe.”

Her insides twisted in on themselves before her brain finished putting a name to the voice. She whirled to face Kent, wiping all emotion from her expression to hide the nausea surging inside. “Hello.”

“Don’t be like that.” He stepped around her cart, and stopped just a few inches away from her. “I missed you.”

“I doubt that.” She poured ice into her tone, and tried to use the same calm to numb the rest of her.

“I’ve been looking for you since you left Nick. I just want to explain. Make
us
work.” He rested a hand at her hip and pulled her closer.

She jerked away from his touch. “I already understand.” Wait. Had Nick given out her number? The idea flashed in her head, and she couldn’t shake it. He hadn’t pieced together what she did for a living in three years, but since Rich knew, Nick did. She didn’t want to think about how bad this could get, but if the phone call earlier hadn’t hammered in the severity of the problem, facing Kent did.

“But you don’t.” He moved toward her, and she stepped away until her back collided with a display rack. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. Tell me what I did wrong,” he said.

She didn’t want to have this conversation on normal days, but now it was the last thing her brain was prepared to handle. “I’ve told you I’m not interested,” she said through clenched teeth. “You don’t get it, and that’s the problem.”

He rested his hand at her hip again, this time hooking his thumb through her belt loop. He pressed his frame against hers, pinning her between him and the shelf, but his deceptively soothing tone never shifted. “You know you want me. I’ll prove it to you.”

She summoned all of her control to keep her voice from shaking. “If you think doing this here, in a public place, will keep me from making a scene, you’re wrong. Let go of me now, or I
will
knee you in the nuts and scream so loud they’ll hear me at the other side of the strip mall.”

He moved several paces back, hands raised in surrender. “No reason to get violent, babe. I just want to talk.”

She stared him down, heart hammering inside her chest, possibilities racing through her head. Should she scream anyway? Would he let her go, if she walked away? Was she overreacting?

A mother with two children in tow turned the corner, and meandered down the aisle. Kent put several feet between himself and Jaycie, and jammed his hands in his pockets. “We’ll catch up later, babe. I miss you.” His voice grew in volume, loud enough to be heard but not so much it sounded unnatural. “Good luck with that whole work thing.”

As he disappeared down another aisle, her resolve crumbled, and her legs threatened to give out from under her. His parting words echoed in her head. The instant she got home, she was changing her phone number, and figuring out what to do if he had her home address.

When Ethan got home, Jaycie was on the couch, knees to her chest, watching something with a lot of explosions.

“Hey.” He set his keys on the end table by the door, and kicked off his shoes. “I tried to text you, see if you wanted me to pick you up something to eat, but I got a weird error that your number didn’t work. Are you all right?”

She glanced up, and he finally registered her drawn expression and the way her mouth turned down. She gave him an almost glassy stare. “Sorry about that.” There was no emotion in her voice. “I had to change it.”

He waited for more of an explanation.

Instead she said, “But I’m good, thanks. I’m not really hungry.”

He dropped onto the couch next to her, unsure how close was appropriate. He couldn’t tell what kind of vibe she was giving off, but it wasn’t a good one. “Why did you change it?”

She creased her forehead, her shoulders stiffened, and then the weird neutral expression slid back into place. “The wrong people had it.”

“Can I have the new one, or am I one of the wrong people?” He tried to keep his tone light. What had he missed while he was gone? The staring-off-into-space thing she’d been doing earlier was disconcerting, but this was more than odd. She’d been freaked out because her name had gotten out. Had things gotten worse in the last few hours?

“I guess. Just swear you won’t give it to
anyone.
”

That couldn’t be a good sign. Did she think he had before, despite his assurances? “Of course not. Never.”

“I’ll text you in a little bit, so you can save it.”

The terse, almost mechanical responses, combined with her reserved body language, set him on edge. Maybe he wasn’t asking the right questions. “How did everything go with work?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

So much for that. His curiosity begged with him to push the issue, and his protectiveness demanded he get answers. He stowed both reactions. “Then we won’t.”

“Thanks.” Some of the tension evaporated from her face, and she sank into the cushions, frown fading.

His muscles itched with the desire to wrap her up, kiss away whatever caused this, and distract her. If he’d been off-base with his attempts to get her to open up so far, though, something told him that would make things far worse. Needing an outlet for his energy, he wandered into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, popped the top, and knocked back a long swallow. “Beer?”

“No thanks.”

Frustration welled inside. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. Why was he still trying? Because he couldn’t walk away when she was like this. “I’m ordering pizza. I know you’re not hungry, but say you might be later. What would you want?”

He turned back, to find that she’d shifted on the couch and was leaning against the back, one arm draped over, watching him. More of the blank eeriness had lifted, and it almost looked like she might smile. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Do you want me to?”

She studied him for a moment, seeming to consider his question. “It comes down to that. Doesn’t it? When you ask me that, you actually care what my answer is.”

“Of course.” He was surprised, and just as wounded by the question. Hadn’t he already shown that?

She smiled, and her entire face relaxed. “Pepperoni. But I’m still not talking about today.”

He adored that expression. Now he just needed to figure out what he'd done right, and do more of it. “I wasn’t even going to ask.” He dialed up the order through the app on his phone. “What are you watching?”

“Something with zombies and explosions. Didn’t really pay attention to more than the cover art when I picked it off your list.”

“So it’s half of my movies.” He dropped onto the couch next to her again, and was pleased when she shifted a few inches closer.

*

Jaycie finished off her second slice of pizza, and washed it down with a swig of soda. More screams and explosions echoed in the background, but she was focused on Ethan, not whatever they were watching now.
Aliens
maybe?
Resident Evil
? He was more entertaining than the movie, anyway.

“I hated Battleship growing up,” he said. “I thought I was the worst player ever, until I found out my brother was lying about whether or not I’d hit his ships.”

“That’s just wrong. I’m kind of glad I never had brothers. Only the two sisters. Except they never wanted to play Barbie with me.” They’d been talking for hours, and she was amazed he’d kept the topic one-hundred percent away from what had happened earlier. Part of her wanted to talk about it, but she knew he’d overreact, and while that wasn’t as bad as ignoring her concerns, it also wouldn’t solve anything. Letting this fade and die was the best solution.

When she’d gotten home from the grocery store, and her encounter with Kent, her voice mail was full. After listening to a couple of messages similar to the call she’d taken before she left, she deleted the rest, and had her number changed. She spent the next few hours staring blankly at the TV, and questioning everything about her judgment. If she’d never seen this coming with Nick and his friends, what was she missing when it came to Ethan?

When he got home, and started assailing her with questions, she almost screamed. Until she compared the encounter to the one with Kent, and realized Ethan was still persistent, but he backed off immediately every time she asked.

“You played with Barbies?” He laughed.

“So what? I loved seeing how many different ways I could mix and match their outfits.”

“I just…” He shook his head. “Preconceived notions, and all that.”

“You cook.”

“I—” He worked his jaw up and down, no sound coming out. “Feed myself or starve.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. Just making a point. I think it’s awesome.”

“All right, point taken.” He pointed at the pizza box. “You done?” When she nodded, he gathered everything into a pile on the coffee table, leaving the space between them empty. “Shall we play a game?”

She laughed at the bad, mechanical imitation of
War Games.
“As long as it’s not global thermonuclear war.”

“You get it. Another reason I adore you.” He scooted closer until his knee was touching hers. “And no, it’s not. It’s kind of like truth or dare, but backwards.”

She tried not to linger on the word
adore.
It had just slipped out, right? The last thing she needed right now was another puzzle for her mind to gnaw on. Still, she liked the warmth it sent flooding through her. She twisted her mouth in amused curiosity. “How’s that work, then?”

“I tell you something about myself, and you guess if I’m telling the truth. If you guess wrong, I get to dare you to do something. Then it’s your turn to do the same.”

The option of unrestricted dares made her nervous. This was her chance to see if she could really trust him, though. “And if I guess right?”

“Then it’s your turn to try and trick me. The game doesn’t go anywhere, if we get sucked into an endless cycle because one of us keeps getting the answers wrong or right.”

“I’m in.” At her core, she still didn’t like the idea of opening herself up. But at the same time, he was interested in her, and experience told her she wouldn’t spend half the conversation justifying herself. She trusted him. It was an odd sensation, but a comforting one. Besides, this meant learning more about him, too. “You go first, since it’s your game.”

“When I was little, my favorite color was pink.”

An image flashed through her mind of a young Ethan in a pink sweater, strutting proudly around the playground. It was a cute thought, but she didn’t buy it. “You’re lying.”

He grinned. “I’m not. My older brother Damon—yes, the same one who cheated at Battleship—used to tease me mercilessly, until I finally gave it up.”

She couldn’t imagine him yielding to anything. What kind of an older brother did he have? “That’s not right.”

“It’s in the past. I still have a pink T-shirt I wear to family reunions, just to get under his skin.”

That sounded more like the Ethan she knew.

“So, you guessed wrong. Dare,” he said.

Her muscles tightened, and some of her amusement slipped away. This wasn’t a big deal. She wouldn’t have agreed to this if she didn’t trust him. “Do your worst.”

“Nope. We save worst for later in the game.” His grin morphed into the wolfish one that made her feel like she was willingly on the menu. “Hmm…. Sing me the chorus of your favorite song.”

“I don’t sing.”

“You dance.”

“Very different skill set.” She should just get this over with. She had agreed, and she’d have her revenge. Licking her lips, she hummed a few notes in her head to get to the right place, and started in on the chorus of Halestorm’s
Let Me In Your Room
. Her voice was quiet at first, but within four lines, she was singing at the same volume as in the car.

He clapped when she finished. “Apparently you do sing. What do I get to see, if I look in your room?”

She knew he was speaking as metaphorically as the song. Hisses of memory pinged at her thoughts, trying to force the phone calls and her encounter with Kent back to the forefront. It was easier than she expected to shove them aside. This was now, and she was safe. “That’s a long list.” She really wanted the attention somewhere else. “My turn.”

“We’re admiring your voice still.”

“
You’re
admiring my voice. Um…okay.” An idea popped into her head, and she tried to shove it aside. There was no way she could admit that. Except the concern she expected to feel wasn’t there. She examined her reaction for a moment. Did she really trust Ethan with that kind of information? As she rolled the thought over in her head, she realized she did.

Since that was the case, she was willing to spill a not-so-proud moment, in favor of a little friendly competition.  If he hadn’t believed she played with dolls, he’d never guess this right. “I get exhibitor passes to gaming trade shows. It’s a perk of the job. But the distributors and designers don’t always like to talk to the press, especially when I won’t tell them my name. So…I’ve been known to hide the press badge, and pretend to be a developer’s girlfriend in order to get a different perspective on a game I’m reviewing.”

He furrowed his brow and made an array of faces before he answered. “Too detailed a story. I say it’s true.”

So much for catching him off-guard. Apparently bluffing was as much a part of this game as coming up with facts. “Fine. Your turn.”

“Wait. You’ve actually done that? I mean, I know I guessed yes, but—” He shook his head.

“I’m not proud of it.”

He slid his hand under where hers rested on her leg, then turned it palm up, and intertwined his fingers with hers. “So, press passes. That means you get into all the sneak peeks no one else gets to see.”

She liked the way his skin felt against hers. Secure. Safe. Tempting. She didn’t dare shift and break the moment. “I do.”

“If I beg and plead and look pretty, what are the odds you’ll take me to the next E3 and let me claim I’m your boyfriend? You know, purely to get into those press-only panels.”

She laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. The urge to say he didn’t have to pretend bubbled up inside and she squashed it. This was meant to be fun and lighthearted, not some kind of attempt to redefine
them
.  Still, she liked the idea of having him by her side at an event like that. Something told her it would make the show more entertaining. “Maybe. I guess you’re pretty enough.”

“Yes!” His grin sent flutters of something pleasant but unfamiliar rushing through her. “Okay, my turn. I don’t like spicy food.”

“Ha. Total lie.” She didn’t hesitate. “You ordered extra jalapenos on your pizza.”

He didn’t look disappointed at being found out. He squeezed her hand. “Busted.”

This was so easy. So calming. The events of their day still lurked in the back of her mind, but if she didn’t nudge them, they were ghosts. Whispers she didn’t have to deal with right now. Something occurred to her. “There’s a problem with your game.”

“What’s that?”

She almost hated to bring it up. What if it spoiled the fun? She’d committed herself to answering, though. “I only find out the things about you that you want me to know.”

He traced lazy lines with his thumb along the side of her hand, and a pleasant tremor ran through her. “We have to start somewhere. But okay, what do you want to know?” he asked.

So many questions, and she couldn’t force herself to ask any of them. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin this… Whatever it was. She shook her head. “Never mind. My turn, right?”

He gave her a mock bow, and tipped his hand from his head, as if tipping a hat. “Your turn, my lady.”

She wracked her head for something obscure. Something that would sound completely off the wall about her, but was true. Why did she have to be so boring? Then it occurred to her. “When I was eighteen, I sold vacuum cleaners door to door. I lasted an entire day, before I quit.”