When your life suddenly becomes a reality tv show, you have three choices. One, pretend that your sanity is fully intact, and having people watching you in your rawest moments is completely normal, two, freak out on the watchers and try to snatch the evidence of your breakdown away, like Carrie Underwood in her music video Before He Cheats.

Or when neither of those options feels right, you can do my personal favorite. You run. Run away as fast as you can, hoping to outrun your problems, the camera crew, the gingerbread man, and try to get a moment alone to talk yourself off the emotional ledge of heartbreak you got yourself into.

I shoved past the camera man and the boom mic operator, tears streaming down my face, heartbroken and embarrassed. How do I keep making things worse?!?  

Bolting down the hall, I wiped angrily at my eyes, trying to keep myself from falling into uncontrollable tears, my makeup leaving streaks across my fingers, becoming gloppy warpaint across my cheeks. 

Footsteps followed mine. "Leave me alone," I said, voice tight.

They moved faster, and I began to run, tears streaming unbidden. "Please," I said, my vision swimming, my head spinning, my heart pounding as I thought about Luke, about everyone I had hurt with the decisions I had made to protect my brother. Decisions that had harmed him in the end anyway.

The camera man and the boom mic operator continued after me, a game of emotional cat and mouse. But as I took the corner, unaware of where I was, or where I was going, I heard a loud yelp and turned to find both Dalton boys blocking the camera man and the boom mic operator. 

The boom mic operator was holding his nose, a flash of red on the front of his shirt that made me wonder if Aiden had "accidentally" blocked him with an arm... or fist. 

Tate tsked, shaking his head with a mischievous smile as he stared down the two men. "For a man in charge of sound, you really have a terrible time listening. The lady said to leave her alone. She even used the word please. I suggest you back off before Aiden here gets creative and adds a matching set to your camera man friend here."

"You okay?" Aiden asked, surprising me as he shook out his hand, glancing my direction.

I nodded, wiping my face. Aiden's sharp focus returned to the men, making them pale. "Go."

At the one word command, the men bolted. 

Aiden watched them vanish down the hall, eyes distant, fingers flexing before curling back into a fist. "Delle will snatch the tape," he said with certainty.

I shook my head at the Dalton's. "Why did you—"

"Because no one should get bullied like that," Aiden said quietly. Then he turned and left without another word.

Tate watched his cousin leave, eyes thoughtful before turning back to me. "I'll walk you back to your dressing room."

The silence was heavy as we walked, leaving me wondering what would have happened if they hadn't found me. "Aiden has a soft spot for people who get bullied," Tate said by way of explanation as he opened the door to my dressing room. "That's why he was so angry about... your other job. Laliana has been harassed a lot."

I turned to look at Tate, blurting out information before I could chicken out. "I wrote the love triangle articles about you, Aiden and Laliana." After what he and Aiden had done, how they had helped me, they needed honesty. "I didn't know there was any truth to it... But I wrote it anyway."

Tate sighed, brow wrinkled in frustration. "Why tell me? I didn't need to know."

"Because I'm tired of being afraid of the truth."

Tate nodded, processing. "Anything else I should know?"

How much time do you have? How many friends of yours have I hurt with my words?

I walked past him into my dressing room. "The articles were always far too cruel to Allie." 

Tate's eyes flashed, the only hint that he was angry about the way his girlfriend was treated in past articles. His warm exterior slipped, hinting at an inferno underneath. I knew Aiden was the scary one of the two Dalton Boys, but Tate had a fire to him that could leave you burned to ash if he ever decided to stop being kind.

I had written many articles about his fashionista girlfriend, Allie Winters. She was famous for her work, and icy exterior. But the words I had written had been edited, slashing at her, cruel and biting. "She didn't deserve that. Allie is talented. Just because she is guarded and tough, doesn't mean she is—"

"An Unhinged Fashionista?" Tate finished, quoting one of my articles. "Ice queen? Unworthy of dating Tate Dalton?"

I winced, nodding as I pulled out my phone. After scrolling for several seconds, I found what I was looking for. "This was my original article... before my boss changed it."

When Tate made no move to take the phone from me, instead, pulling several strands of hair out of his face with a frustrated tug, I read aloud, my voice a little shaky. I had never shared my words with anyone before. Not anyone who I had written about, anyway. It left me feeling far more vulnerable than I was comfortable with. But if the truth would help, then I was going to share it.

"Allie Winters is a titan of industry," I said softly. Tate seemed to freeze, but stayed silent, waiting for more. I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak louder. 

"A fashion icon that women inspire to be dressed by or become, Allie has taken everything that she is and put it into her business. Although she comes across as guarded, her passion seeps into every stitch..." I trailed off. 

The rest was more of the same. I didn't understand fashion, but even I understood what it was like to find something that made you feel beautiful. And that was Allie's gift. She loved making people feel beautiful and I had watched others take that gift, and bash the fashion CEO for being strong and determined. For having a dream that she dared to chase. Why did we mock those that dared to fly, who dared to want?

"We don't get to decide what stays in the articles we write," I said, tucking away my phone. "My boss wanted to lean into the 'she is guarded,' part and changed it. I know it's not an excuse, but I wanted someone to know what happened."

Tate leaned against the doorframe, brow raised. "But not Allie?"

I laughed nervously. "She terrifies me. If I try to open my mouth and say anything, she'll probably kill me, and use my skin for a scarf."

Tate snorted, eyes darkening slightly. "Sounds like you believe your companies own words about her." 

He pushed off the doorway. "I believe you."

My heart only had a moment to thrum with relief. "But I'm not your messenger. The words will go a long way coming from you when you talk to her."

He paused, hand on the doorknob. "And as for Aiden... Laliana was attacked while in Canada. Paparazzi stood by and let it happen, taking pictures while she cried. If you weren't there when that happened, I'd tell Aiden." 

Tate shook his head, his face torn between amusement and disbelief. "Laliana has already forgiven you. Apparently she has a soft spot for you. I think she understands why you did it. But Aiden will be the hardest to win over." He rocked back on his heels, looking apologetic. "Well, besides Luke..." He offered a helpless shrug, walking out the door. 

I shot him an irritated look as he began to close the door, leaning his head back in long enough to say..."I have nooooo idea how to win him over... so, good luck with that I guess. BYYYEEEE."

I sat down in the makeup chair, letting out a long breath, feeling raw. I took one look at myself in the mirror and began to laugh. I looked unhinged. My smokey makeup transforming me into a raccoon girl, my hair a wild mess, making me look like a warrior mid battle, the streaks on my face, war stripes. 

The laugh grew, transforming into a wild creature that started as a bubble deep inside and burst out of me until I couldn't control it. The kind that shook your entire body, an unhinged, uninhibited monster and soon I was crying, a mess of tears and laughter that all meshed together until I was a ball of feeling that couldn't decide if the girl in the mirror looked hilarious, terrifying or heartbroken. Probably all three.  

After a long moment, the monster faded, leaving the raccoon, warrior girl in the mirror feeling strangely wired. Telling Tate about my original article had sparked a theory, an idea that I needed to look into. A potential lead that could solve one of my many growing problems.

I pulled up old number on my phone, one I hadn't used in months, not since joining the movie, and dialed.

"Hello? Bex? I need a favor." 

My heart began to pound wildly, hoping my theory was right and wrong all at once. It's time I start asking for the right kind of help. It's time I start getting answers.

...

A girls night can be an empowering thing. It's a time filled with food, friendship and being surrounded by people who would set stuff on fire for you— who love and cheer you on when life gets tough. 

Carter was spending the night hanging out with Iz and Misty, Aiden and Delle's sister's, two people who knew what it was like to be surrounded by gossip, chaos and mystery. Watching him grow close to them had been the one bright spot to the disastrous mess that was our current lives. Not to mention, seeing how utterly flustered Carter was around Iz Dalton was both adorable and hilarious.

So while Carter was enjoying a drama break, and after that disaster of a day, I needed all the emotional support I could get in the form of a girl's night. My "set stuff on fire for you" people consisted of Delle— ex detective turned dancer— who had become a scary but protective big sister. Lavender— an honest and very down to earth starlette— who cared more about making healthy choices than popular ones. Prism— a lifelong friend who had created a dramatic persona— to help promote her flower shop. And Bex— fellow Pizza Nerd employee, tech fixer extraordinaire— and currently, the woman staring at the others with dumbstruck awe. 

As Delle poured hot fudge straight into an open container of mint chocolate chip ice cream, she took Bex in with a side eyed expression, no doubt hating the attention from this mysterious newcomer. 

I made a mental note to put Bex in a large shield of bubble wrap if Delle got too grumpy. I didn't want girls night to take on a Fight Club edge. 

We all sat inside Lavender's beautiful plush purple living room, a giant spread of ice cream displayed on the coffee table, along with more toppings than I had ever seen and a large tower of rom-com DVD's to pick from. 

Prism and Lavender seemed in their element, both wearing fuzzy robes, slippers and mud masks that were apparently meant to clean their pores and aura's. 

They could have been the poster women for a perfume line, making a night of staying in look like a glamorous silk covered dream instead of what Delle and I chose to view it as, an excuse to wear sweatpants, hair up in messy buns (or clips in my shorter hairs case) and ratty t-shirts, the ultimate in DGAF comfort. 

And then there was Bex who had come straight from work at Pizza Nerd, wearing a grease covered Yoshi shirt and jean shorts that were inked in sharpie doodles, laptop balanced on her knees, a bowl of strawberry ice cream in one hand, fingers tapping away at the keyboard with the other as she worked on another project, trying to not stare at the others in the room. 

She was silently starstruck by being invited to a girl's night with a Starlet, Famous Detective and a Reality TV Star Florist. Together we made up the beauty queens, the comfy queens and the hard working queen. 

Lavender plucked another M&M into her mouth, eyes enraptured with my train wreck of a story of the days events, and I could tell it took everything inside of her not to shout, 'I TOLD YOU SO,' for ignoring her advice to give Luke space. 

Delle sighed before shoving her spoon into her pint of ice cream, and swirling it around with an aggressive flourish. "You are proving to be a full time job. Those men were harder to get the film from than I had expected. But after a quick and very manageable distraction in the form of a small fire, they don't really guard their equipment well."

Lavender chuckled. "I should hire you as my publicist." 

Delle shot her a glare. "And do it willingly? When there is no mystery involved? Pass."

Bex blinked, fingers pausing above her keyboard. "Are we just going to ignore the fire comment." When no one said anything, she raised a brow. "Really? That's normal with this group? Okay then, I'll just go back to work and pretend that wasn't unhinged."

Delle's eyes darkened for a moment before I shot her a warning look. Delle shoved a mouth full of hot fudge ice cream into her mouth trying to smother her own intent towards biting words.

Staring down at my bowl of uneaten ice cream, I sighed. "This whole thing is a mess. And I keep making it worse."

Delle shook her head. "Not necessarily. I mean talking to Luke was bad. Dumpster fire bad—"

"Thanks."

"But the timing of everything else tells us something important." 

When no one offered anything to Delle's theory, she crossed her arms. "No theories? Anyone? Seriously? Do I really have to do all the heavy lifting with this group?"

Lavender laughed. "I'm an actress. She's a florist, Em's a gossip columnist and she," Lavender said pointing at Bex. "Is literally covered in pizza sauce."

I smirked. "You're the detective. What does it mean, oh wise one?"

Delle's mouth twitched at the mocking compliment, but didn't immediately give in. The entire situation felt like a version of Ocean's Eleven. But instead of being apart of a team of people working together to steal something, we were working together to solve a mystery. 

Would Nancy Drew fit as a better example? The Hardy Boys since it's a group? Sherlock Holmes? Agatha Christie?

Prism spoke up for the first time. "Delle, instead of being dramatic and treating this like a class, why don't you just tell us the answer." 

Bex snorted, and tried to cover it up with a cough, eyes suddenly glued to her screen, face red when Delle's eyes snapped to her again. 

"Why are you here?" Delle asked in her blunt, sharp tone. 

Bex looked up, flustered. "I... was invited?" 

"Is that a question?" 

Bex tried again, steel suddenly entering her tone. "I was invited." 

Delle nodded, satisfied by the strength in her words. "Fine." She turned to look at the rest of us. "Timing is everything in these things. The articles dropped when Em started to sniff in places that would cause the culprits problems."

"Culprits?" Prism asked. "As in multiple?" Pushing her platinum blond hair off of her shoulder she sighed. "Faaaantastic."

"Wait," I said, wheels spinning fast. "Someone at XOXO Gossip is working with a Walker?" I stood up, pacing before anyone could answer. 

"Keep going," Delle said, eyes bright. "Miss Detective."

"I'm not a detective," I replied quickly, before continuing with my theory, bowl of ice cream in hand, using the spoon as a weapon to gesture with as I thought out loud. "It makes sense. The articles dropped after I had dinner at the Walker house."

Delle nodded, encouraging me to go on.

"Dawn outed me, implying that she was done with me— hoping to tank me and whatever connection I had with Luke to keep him from finding out who was after him, which means it is the same person or people." I took a bite of ice cream, talking past the burst of caramel swirl in my mouth. "The gossip leak and the Walker saboteur are the same people. Which means who ever that is, also is working behind the scene on the movie, or is connected to someone on the lot who is feeding them information..."

Prism held up a hand, eyes wide. "So... we are looking for three people? A Walker, someone at XOXO Gossip, and someone on the movie lot? That's a lot of people."

"Walker's have a lot of power," Delle said, leaning back on the couch with a thoughtful expression. "When I was working on the Reality TV show, I saw first hand how much their influence reaches."

"So what do we do?" Lavender asked. And the use of we left me feeling utterly thankful that without even asking, Lavender and Prism had come to my aid, while Delle and Bex had insisted I include them. 

The Walkers were powerful, but so were my friends. 

"We find out which Walker it is," I said.

"Found them," Bex said. We all turned to stare at her. 

"What?" Bex asked, staring at all of us, surprised. "It wasn't hard. I hack things and fix things for a living."

Delle seemed to see Bex, fully see her for the first time. "Holy crap. That's amazing." Delle looked back at me. "Where have you been hiding her?" 

Bex raised a brow and gestured to her shirt. "Pizza Nerd?"

"Is that a question?" Delle replied, her tone more amused than accusatory. 

Bex's eyes flashed, a smirk crossing her face. "Pizza Nerd."

"Have you thought of being a detective?" Delle asked. 

Lavender snorted. "Stop recruiting, Delle. Hand her a pamphlet later, okay?"

Bex's eyes flew back to her computer screen, typing faster, eyes scanning code and details I couldn't understand as I peered over her shoulder. "It's the same person who hacked your notes account, Em." 

"I KNEW IT!" I shouted, nearly causing Bex to dump her strawberry ice cream onto her laptop. She caught it at the last second and placed it on the couch next to her.  "I knew someone was leaking my information." I said again, slightly softer. 

"Someone at XOXO Gossip hacked your account months ago." She began to talk faster, her tone more monotone as she fell into the inner workings of the hack. "You use a program that not only saves your most recent version of a document, but every single change you've ever saved. Which means the hacker had access to every version of every draft you ever wrote, along with all of your notes. That's why they knew everything you did. You process through writing. You might as well have been monologuing through a megaphone right to the culprit."

She glanced up at me. "I found the IP address of the hacker, their name, phone number, social security number, address, and, with a few clicks..." she typed out a quick command, shoving her black hair out of her face, green eyeshadow taking on a bluish tinge as the screen flashed before her, making her look like a menacing mage. "Access to all of their credit card information. Basically, I could claim their life all while buying myself a Maserati on their dime."

I scanned the information, brows raised. "Ooooh.... I know which Walker is causing us problems."

"Now I know why you are here," Delle said utterly delighted with Bex's hacking skills as she rounded the couch and took in the treasure trove on the computer screen. Prism and Lavender weren't far behind, all wide eyed at Bex's findings. 

I started laughing. "I knew you could hack, but this..." I gestured to the computer. "Is far more than I dared hope for. Why didn't you tell me you could break the world with a few clicks?"

Bex snorted. "It's NOT a few clicks and you never asked. I try to keep on the legal side of the law, THIS is very illegal. But... they tried to break my friend so I break them," she said in a terrifyingly sweet tone. "But you didn't know any of that because you never asked. We spent most of our time complaining about Jack never showing up to work at Pizza Nerd."

Delle's grin widened. "You have fantastic taste in friends, Em." 

Prism's eyes went wide as she read the information on the screen. "NO. WAY..."

"Well, well, well. This should be interesting," Lavender said, dropping an M&M into her mouth, looking like she was ready to watch a reality tv show, settling in for the drama. "Let's blow it up while the cameras roll."

Delle nodded sagely. "An explosion would be nice."

Bex looked between the two of them, wary. "I strongly advise against fires... or explosions..."

I shook my head before Prism could pick a side in the fire vs non fire argument. 

"No fires, or explosions or breaking anyone. That may be your way, but we are going to handle this mine." I sat down on the edge of the couch, staring down at the screen. "We still need to uncover the on set leak. We can't play our hand yet."

Prism gave me a concerned expression. "But they'll keep printing stuff about you." 

Staring at the culprits on the screen, I smiled sharply. "Let them. There isn't anything else I have to hide. Nothing left to print. I'm done being afraid."

"Soon, they'll be the ones hiding."

---

Thank you for reading chapter thirty eight! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!

UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!

Looks like our Girls Night as turned into a digging for clues over ice cream session! 

What do you think of Bex? 

Which Walker is the one behind things?

Will Em talk to Allie about the real article she wrote? Will she talk to Aiden?

Will Luke forgive her?

What do you think will happen next?

CHAPTER QUESTION - Have you ever had a chill friends night? What did you do? What is your perfect idea of a friends night?