Wardrobe Malfunction Chapter 2

I used the gold brooch to pin my strap back in place.

Then, I lightly tugged on Caleb’s sleeve, bringing back my fake, syrupy voice.

"Caleb, your pin is just so beautiful."

I just wanted to annoy the haters. I didn't expect Caleb to turn his entire body toward me, glance at the pin on my chest, and smirk.

"Keep it. It’s yours."

I have a weakness for handsome men. Especially men as unreasonably handsome as Caleb Sterling.

The tone. The line. The eye contact.

Crap. I think I just played myself.

The stream was glitching from the traffic overload, but once it smoothed out, one comment spamming the screen caught my eye:

[Mrs. Caleb Sterling]: Give my husband's pin back, you witch! You vixen!

Surprisingly high praise. "Vixen" implies I’m hot enough to ruin a life. I’ll take it.

Everyone around us was throwing subtle side-eyes, but I didn’t care. I was being annoying on purpose.

Caleb, however, cleared his throat and spoke into his mic, his tone calm but firm. "Let's keep the comments civil, please."

His voice was like velvet.

His rational fans immediately stepped in to control the chat.

It made me feel a little guilty for trolling, so I behaved myself for the rest of the stream. I faded into the background while the stars talked.

Leo, the idol guy, and Greg, the comedian, were super nice. Zero ego.

Tiffany, on the other hand, was icy. She only seemed interested in talking to Caleb.

Whatever.

After the stream, I trended. I didn't look, but I assumed it was bad.

When I got home to pack for the actual filming, Maxine called me, sounding ecstatic.

"Harper! You made it! Bad press is still press! Do you know how many followers you gained?"

I had about 100k followers on Instagram before this. Mostly bots.

"How many?" I asked, throwing toiletries into my bag.

"Fifty thousand!" Maxine screamed.

Damn. The power of Caleb.

I checked my phone. Fifty thousand new followers, and my DMs were filled with red notifications. All hate mail, no doubt.

I tossed the phone aside.

Internet people are so dramatic.

...

The next morning, Maxine drove me to the meeting point. I was early; the others were still wrapping up other gigs.

That afternoon, the Director, Lee, knocked on my hotel room door holding a file.

I invited him in. I’m a nobody; no paparazzi care about who enters my room.

"Director Lee, what’s up?"

He handed me the file. It was a script. A villain script.

It was a tailored "Black Road to Fame" route. He wanted me to be the designated antagonist to generate buzz.

"Harper, it’s a win-win."

I looked at the script. Sure, it was a win for the show.

But I didn't want to do it.

Every bullet point on the page was designed to make the internet hate me. I’ve stayed invisible in this industry specifically because I hate doing things against my conscience.

"Director, let me think about it."

He nodded and left.

...

Right after Lee left, the Assistant Director, Miller, showed up. He had a slimy smile on his face.

"Harper, aren't you going to invite me in?"

I stepped back to let him in, leaving the door wide open.

"Harper, you're so pretty. Why haven't you blown up yet?"

I thought about it seriously. "Maybe the casting directors are blind?"

Miller paused, clearly not expecting that answer. He walked past me and shut the door.

"I have something to show you. Better to keep the door closed."

He handed me his phone. It was a video of Director Lee entering my room and leaving twenty minutes later. The angle made it look... suggestive.

I handed the phone back. "What’s your point, Miller?"

"Nothing," he smirked. "But if I leaked this, what do you think would happen?"

"I’d get cyberbullied to hell," I said flatly.

Miller grinned, a predatory look in his eyes. He started unzipping his jacket. "Exactly. You don't want people to get the wrong idea, right? Maybe we can work something out..."

I watched him cold-eyed. This script was too cliché.

As he tried to shrug his jacket off, I grabbed the fabric and yanked it back up, choking him slightly.

Then, I gathered a mouthful of saliva and spit right in his face.

"You sick pervert. Get the hell out."

I might be a D-lister, but I’m not scared of this garbage. The show hasn't even aired. If he leaks that, he destroys the show's reputation. The investors would eat him alive.

I grabbed a heavy tripod from the corner of the room and started jabbing him toward the door.

"Did a pig eat your brain?" I yelled, poking him hard in the spine.

Miller yelped and scrambled into the hallway.

Just as I jabbed him out the door, Caleb and his personal assistant were walking by.

awkward silence.

"What's... happening?" Caleb’s assistant asked.

I retracted the tripod and gave a stiff smile. "Director Miller had a stiff back. I was helping him with some... percussive therapy."

The assistant looked skeptical. "Is that so?"

"Would you two like to try?" I brandished the tripod.

The assistant waved his hands frantically and hustled Caleb away.

Caleb didn't say a word. He just looked at me with those unreadable eyes.

That night, Maxine called me in a panic. Miller was known for holding grudges. She said he’d make my life on set a living hell.

I told her to relax. I’ve been bullied for two years in this business. What’s a few more days?