The Selling Point Read online

  “Shh,” Taylor hushed.

  When the camera cut back to Jennifer, she shook her head sadly. “I asked Darby how she felt about what she’d done. This is what she had to say.”

  Darby looked furious in the footage that popped up. “I’m peddling in heartbreak and enjoying it.”

  “Your business is called The Un-Do Wedding Boutique,” Jennifer said. “Your tagline is ‘Her bad luck is your great deal.’ Don’t you think that’s a little...insensitive?”

  “I’m getting paid,” Darby said, sounding aloof.

  Again, the video cut to Jennifer. “Well, you’ve certainly been successful…getting paid.”

  “Yes,” Darby said, “I have.”

  When Jennifer returned, she shrugged and shook her head. “There you have it. The owner of the incredibly popular Un-Do Wedding Boutique. In her own words.”

  Darby gasped. “That’s not… That’s not…” She turned to Jade with wide eyes. “She spliced my words together to make me look bad.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Taylor said flatly and pushed herself up. “I’m burning that bitch’s house down.”

  “No, you’re not,” Jade said. “For God’s sake, how will that help Darby?”

  “It might make me feel better,” Darby said and then swallowed hard. “I feel sick. Like, I could barf sick. She made me look really bad, guys. Like…really bad.”

  “I’m going to take care of this,” Taylor said.

  Jade’s lips dipped into a deep frown. “Sit down, Taylor.”

  Taylor crossed her arms and huffed.

  “No,” Jade pressed, “you cannot burn down her house.”

  “Fine. But I will scare the shit out of her.”

  “No, you won’t,” Jade said.

  Darby choked out a sob, causing her friends to look at her. “Guys. This is a disaster.”

  “You need to post an apology,” Jade said.

  Gasping, Darby sat back. “No. Why should I… She lied. She edited that footage together, Jade. I didn’t say those things. Well… I did, but not the way she made them look.”

  “Darby,” Taylor stated firmly.

  Darby slammed her laptop closed and then jumped up. “No. I will not be bullied by her lies.”

  She marched back to the kitchen where she’d left her sundae, which had turned into a melty mess. Grasping her spoon, she lifted her chin a notch as she stared at Jade and Taylor. “I’m not changing one damn thing.”

  Five

  Darby wished she could go back to that moment when she and her best friends were sitting on the beach just a week ago. Back before Noah Joplin told the world about her website. Instead, she sat by herself on her sofa the next afternoon, staring at the comments on Un-Do’s website.

  Two days ago, the majority of messages had been telling her how awesome her shop was. Several women even expressed interest in having Darby design and make a dress for a wedding. People loved the styles and the uniqueness she’d brought to the gowns. Her site had been filled with praise. Sure, a few people had made comments about the site being inconsiderate to the would-have-been brides and some thought the stories shouldn’t have been shared, but for the most part, the posts had been positive.

  Now, less than twenty-four hours after Jennifer’s video was posted, Darby’s wedding boutique had turned into something vicious. And the malice was aimed at her!

  Before, cool had been the main adjective used on her shop. That had been replaced in far too many posts using words like ugly and cruel, and there were even a few instances of money-hungry bitch.

  Though part of Darby told her to let it roll off her back—she didn’t even know those people—the words still cut at her. She didn’t like people thinking bad things about her, and it didn’t matter if they were strangers. She wasn’t mean. Or cruel. Or money hungry.

  She’d simply been trying to pay her bills and keep her head above water. Like everyone else in the world. Why’d they have to turn it into something else? Why had Jennifer had to turn it into something else?

  Darby sniffed as she blindly deleted all the comments rather than sort through looking for the posts that were defending her and had something nice and supportive to say about her appearance and her business. As soon as the comments were deleted, she turned off all commenting and access to her inbox so no one could message her.

  Jade would likely tell her that was the wrong approach, but Darby didn’t care. As long as messages were coming in, nice or not, she’d be too tempted to read them. And those not-so-nice messages were getting meaner by the minute. Sure, some people were coming to her defense, but that didn’t take the sting out of what people were saying.

  Some people had the ability to let cruelty bounce off them, but Darby had always soaked up the negativity like a sponge. Those words would worm their way into her mind and take over. She’d roll them around until that was all she heard and all she felt, and then they’d consume her.

  She’d try to hide, try to disappear, but they’d find her and convince her that all the bad things people were saying were true.

  She’d been through this before too many times in her life. She didn’t want to go through it now, so turning off the comments now was the best approach to save what was left of her peace of mind.

  Sue Berdynski had made Darby sound like a heartless wench who hadn’t given a damn about anybody else. And those jerk faces Mark and Ted had no right to tell the world about their breakups. They had thrown her under the bus to have five seconds of fame on Jennifer’s podcast. Darby would kick them both in the shins if she ever saw them again.

  But even worse than what her ex-boyfriends had done…people were mocking her appearance. Yes, she was used to that to some extent. People often looked at her when she was out and about. Some even snickered or made rude comments. Darby had learned to let those things roll off her back. In fact, she wore them as badges of honor because the teenage version of herself would have crumpled. She’d learned to use those disapproving looks and sarcastic takes on her appearance to build herself up rather than to tear herself down.

  However. This was different. This felt different. Their attacks weren’t curious glances or whispered comments followed by a round of giggles. These were direct. These were well-aimed and intended to hit her where it hurt. These weren’t simply passersby taking a second look. People had sought her out, made a concerted effort to find her website, with the intention of trashing her.

  Darby had once again become an easy target for people who had nothing better to do with their time than cut someone down. She felt vulnerable. Singled out. Weak. And worst of all, she felt like she was alone—the same kind of scared loneliness that had followed her down the halls of Chammont Point High School for four long years.

  She was the sole owner of The Un-Do Wedding Boutique. She was the only person responsible for the failure and success. She was the only one there to take the angry words being tossed her way.

  Closing her eyes as big tears rolled down her cheeks, Darby pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself into a bright yellow faux fur cocoon. As she hid herself into a makeshift burrow, she tried to calm the anxiety gripping her chest. Her heart thumped hard, and breathing became more and more difficult as old fears resurfaced.

  All she’d ever wanted was to be free to be herself. To live her life without being harassed or bullied. And maybe have a few really good friends.

  Though she was in her thirties now, she’d finally gotten exactly what she’d always been seeking. It had taken years, but Darby had found the courage to be herself and she had two amazing friends. But she felt like she was on the verge of losing everything.

  The sound of Darby’s phone dinging made her nerves sizzle like bacon on a hot griddle. The dark clouds were closing in on her, and the idea of someone from outside this storm reaching out made her stomach roll with the instant expectation that it was another ugly comment. Another rude assessment of her clothes. Another cruel joke about her weight.

&n
bsp; She didn’t want to see who had texted her and why, but despite the anxiety the notification had caused, she couldn’t resist. Sliding her hand from the blanket shelter she’d created, she snagged her cell phone and looked at the screen.

  Taylor had texted her. Knowing it was a friend—someone who wouldn’t tell her that she weighed too much to dress like that or that she should take herself more seriously—was a relief.

  Doing okay?

  Darby stared at the text for a few moments. Her natural instinct was to say she was fine. That lie was one she’d told so many times in her life. So many times someone—her mom or a teacher—would ask if she was doing okay, and rather than tell them she felt like she was dying inside, she’d fake a smile and say she was fine.

  Society had a way of making people feel like admitting they weren’t okay made them weak. People weren’t supposed to burden others with their problems, so “fine” became the go-to answer, when the reality was that Darby wasn’t fine. She wasn’t even close to fine.

  But still, though Taylor was one of her closest friends, she hesitated to say so. A voice in her head told to toss the phone aside with the text unanswered. Another told her to tell the truth and admit that she needed help. And yet another, that one so many people listened to, told her to type out the words I’m fine and turn away from the help she knew Taylor was offering.

  That voice was winning out, but then Darby considered who she was talking to. Taylor wouldn’t take “fine” as an answer. Taylor would see through the lie and call her on it.

  Telling Taylor she was fine in the midst of this mess would have been like telling her the grass was purple. She’d know it was a lie.

  Darby texted back a simple, straightforward response. No.

  Harper’s?

  Darby almost laughed. The way they were buying up Harper’s ice cream to make Darby feel better, the store might run out of stock soon. They hadn’t even spent this much time eating treats when Jade was going through her divorce. Darby hiccupped a breath as she realized that was because Jade was like a gazillion times stronger.

  Darby didn’t want to crawl off the sofa and face the world. She wanted to stay there, hidden, unseen, until all this blew over and she could once again show her face without fear.

  But she knew from years of experience that if she allowed herself to hide away, time would pass by without her noticing. If she didn’t push herself to keep going, days would pass by with her barely moving from this spot. She’d never gotten so deep into her depression that she’d go without bathing or changing, but she’d heard that could happen. And it didn’t surprise her.

  The weight of sadness was too much to carry sometimes. She could see how some people wouldn’t be able to push themselves to keep going—even if that mean a hot bath or a solid meal. There had been times when she’d get so caught up in feeling bad that she wouldn’t let herself feel good, even for a minute.

  She’d developed bad coping habits thanks to being such an outcast. Sometimes it was just a nagging sadness she couldn’t name and wouldn’t go away.

  However, when her mom had passed away, Darby had embraced those old ways she’d discovered in high school. The blending in, keeping quiet, going days without speaking.

  She didn’t want to do that again. She didn’t want to find herself so far beneath the weight of this that she couldn’t find her way out. Not that she thought Jade and Taylor would allow it. That was one of the many benefits of finally having friends. Real friends. They knew she struggled with depression and had a tendency to withdraw.

  She knew they were going to take care of her. She knew that. Even though she was feeling beat up and worn out, she knew they’d take care of her.

  Darby swallowed hard and sniffed before responding. Yeah. I’ll meet you there in 15.

  I’ll text Jade.

  Huffing out a big sigh, Darby fought the urge to retract her answer. She had to get up. She had to keep moving. That was what her mom would have told her.

  Turning her wrist up, Darby looked at the tattoo she’d put there twelve years ago. Love, Mom had been copied off the last birthday card her mom had ever given her. She traced the letters and remembered her mom’s voice, and then another round of tears trickled over her cheeks. She really could use her mom’s hugs and words of encouragement right now, but she would have to settle for Jade and Taylor reminding her they were there for her.

  Darby stuck her lip out in defiance as she shoved the blanket from around her. She went to the bedroom to get ready to go. No doubt she had black mascara trails down her cheeks. She walked into the bedroom, dropped onto the chair at her vanity, and looked at her reflection.

  As she did, words she’d read on Un-Do’s site rolled through her mind. People picking on her style, her hair, her makeup. She hadn’t been able to let those go. Those pierced her armor and made her soul bleed. Those hurt.

  The same way the high school bullies had found a way to hurt her all those years ago.

  And like all those years ago, Darby shrivelled. The need to hide returned, and she snagged a facial cloth from the dispenser on her vanity. She wiped her makeup away and then tugged the hairpins in her perfectly primped rolls free. Her bright red hair fell around her face.

  Fifteen minutes later, she realized she was running late, but she didn’t care. Jade and Taylor would wait for her. She needed a few minutes to get used to what she’d done to herself.

  A pair of dark denim capris hugged her curves, but rather than a halter top in some outlandish color, Darby had paired the pants with a white button-down blouse that she usually wore with puffy skirts or short shorts. She’d brushed out her hair so the red strands hung down around her shoulders. Not a victory roll or barrel curl was to be seen.

  And her makeup? She’d toned that down so her usual eyeliner wings only swooshed enough to accent her dark brown eyes. Opting to pass on her false lashes, she’d added black mascara to the natural hairs, but the effect barely stood out in comparison.

  After sliding on a pair of flats, Darby looked at her reflection again. She looked so…normal. Other than the bright red hair, of course, but even that seemed tame without her usual style. Taking in her reflection made her feel a bit sad.

  She’d stared at herself for a long time wondering why she needed to look what so many had called “clownish” to feel good about herself. Maybe she was the fake they all had accused her of being. Maybe she was desperate for attention.

  Without her usual flair, she felt vulnerable. She felt average. She didn’t feel like herself. Then again, maybe she didn’t even know what that was supposed to feel like.

  Picking up her phone, she debated texting Jade and Taylor and letting them know she’d changed her mind. She wasn’t up for having ice cream right now. She stopped, though. She needed this time with her friends. The reminder that she wasn’t alone would be a huge comfort with all she was feeling inside.

  Grabbing her purse, Darby left the house, but the gloom followed her all the way to Harper’s Ice Cream Shop. When she walked toward it, she noticed Jade and Taylor sitting next to each other on a bench but not speaking. They were both looking at their phones. The sight wasn’t that unusual, considering everyone in today’s society was more caught up in their own world than sharing another’s, but the scene made Darby’s fears and insecurities spike. She wondered if they were reading the same comments she’d read. If they were, would they agree? Would they think she was fake? Clownish? An attention-seeking joke?

  The knot that formed in Darby’s gut was irrational. She knew that, but her lip trembled a bit as the idea of losing their trio took hold of her heart.

  Jade glanced up and noticed Darby first. A loud gasp caused Taylor to focus on Darby too. They both stared with slack jaws as Darby approached the ice cream shop.

  “What are you wearing?” Taylor asked, which Darby thought was amusing considering Taylor was the one who had told her a thousand times she needed to tone down her look.

  She looked at herself and shr
ugged. “Thought I’d try something new.”

  The concern in Jade’s eyes was undeniable. “Honey…”

  “It’s something new,” Darby stated, blowing off their concerns. She didn’t want to dwell on them, because she would break down and cry. The feeling of being lost inside her own body was one she was far too used to but hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was creeping up on her now, and she didn’t want to stare it down. Not yet. “You guys ready for ice cream?”

  She yanked open the door and walked in. As she skimmed over the menu the three of them had memorized long ago, she felt the weight of stares on her. She ignored them and the stress that embraced her. When she approached the counter, she smiled at the girl behind the register.

  “Whoa. You’re the Un-Do lady.”

  Darby’s smile faltered as she noticed several of the people behind the counter looking at her and whispering. Great. They were probably going to spit in her ice cream. “Yeah. I guess.” She considered not ordering but decided she really needed the treat. She’d keep an extra close eye on whoever made her order.

  After asking for a banana split with extra nuts, she stepped to the side so Jade and Taylor could get theirs as well. As her dish was filled, she kept an eagle eye on the teenager scooping different flavors and drizzling sauces.

  Once they were sitting around a table, Darby sent up a silent prayer of thanks that her order hadn’t been violated by teen mischief.

  “What’s up with your hair?” Taylor asked.

  “I wanted to change things up,” Darby said, hoping her friends would stop staring at her. As she glanced around, she realized far too many people were watching them. Not everyone seemed to have noticed her or recognized her from Jennifer’s video, but she suspected a few did from the way they were leaning close and lowering their voices before glancing her way, much like they had done the last time they were at Harper’s and a woman had called out to Darby. And like that day, Darby suddenly felt uncomfortable. While she’d taken big strides in recovering her confidence, having all these people glancing her way was causing her to shrivel inside like she’d done for four long years at Chammont Point High School.