Page 64 of Bride Games

64

Emma

E mma cooked bacon and eggs for Lucy and Grace who giggled the entire time. The girls were nearly bouncing out of their chairs with excitement about getting their first mani-pedi. Emma texted Paige earlier to see if she could join them but she was too busy dealing with fallout from her podcast.

After they ate, Emma drove to a nearby spa. They were met by a cute nail technician with jet black hair. The woman led Lucy and Grace to two child-sized teddy bear chairs. Emma took a seat next to them.

“What color?” the employee asked.

“Pink!” Lucy and Grace both shouted.

“Girls, orange is also one of our wedding colors. Would one of you like orange? Or would you both like an accent nail in orange?”

Lucy stared at her mom. “What’s a ‘cent color?”

Emma wiggled her ring finger. “A lot of people get a different color on their ring finger as an accent.”

Lucy and Grace both held out their hands and examined their naked nails with great thoughtfulness. Lucy piped up. “Can we do every other color?”

The patient tech pointed to Lucy’s small fingers. “One orange and one pink?”

Emma weighed her options. She could insist on all pink, all orange, the accent nail, or let Lucy have her way and avoid a meltdown. “Girls, we’re getting gel nails. It won’t come off before the wedding, so you can’t change your mind.”

“I won’t, Mommy.” Grace added, “Me neither.”

Emma pressed the massage button on her chair and leaned back. “Let the girls have what they want but make them both the same, please. I’ll take a French manicure.” Some battles aren’t worth fighting, plus it might actually be cute.

PAIGE

Miserable with tedious administrative duties, employee squabbles, and seemingly endless meetings, Paige made a real effort but had a difficult time focusing on paperwork. So much paperwork. She stared at a pending pile that threatened to mimic the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I don’t know how Mr. Hales has done this job for years and kept his sanity. I much prefer being in front of the camera. This sucks.

Paige closed her office door and returned to social media, a new obsession she couldn’t seem to break, especially since she had fallen from grace like a meteor. She thought back to the previous fall and the NFL players she had met—particularly Patrick Mahomes, Chris Jones, Travis Kelce, of the Chiefs, and Tyreek Hill from the Dolphins. They had all been incredible. But now the tide had turned. Fans hated her. She still couldn’t figure out how this happened and who was behind it. Maybe multiple people. She shuddered at the thought.

Paige pulled up her profiles on X, Twitter, and Instagram. She winced as she checked the NFL and ESPN pages on social media. Yup. They still hate me. Some would rather throw rotten eggs at me. Uncooked ones.

As she stared at the multiple windows she had open on her computer, Paige hoped her Humble Pie with Paige Daniels podcast had made an impact but clenched her jaw as she read more and more nasty comments. Seemingly endless hurtful comments. Paige teared up at one commenter’s post who said she gave football a black eye. As she scrolled, she read other crass things she wished she’d never seen. Damn trolls. Damn cretins. Let’s see you do this job after no training whatsoever. She ran her fingers through her hair. I guess this is what I get for being a rookie. Zach could have helped me. He would have helped me. But I was too insecure to trust him, or anyone. Look where that got me.

Paige’s eyes glistened but she refused to cry. I’ve got to stop torturing myself. I don’t think my podcast is going to get me back in the job I learned to love. Everyone will forget about me soon. I’ll be a tiny blip on the sports scene. Fans will say, Paige who? They’ll remember Marie Fallon, though. She made a face as she remembered her boss’s words: What a great hire. Gag.

Her pity party continued for the next fifteen minutes. Needing a breather, Paige decided to get a fresh cup of coffee. When she returned to her boss’s oversized desk, she opened her email and immediately lurched back in the chair, as if the note were venomous.

I’m going to ruin you and you deserve it.

Paige said aloud to no one, “Who the hell are you?” She knew she needed to concentrate on work and forget about the cruel creatures who were trying to destroy her. Glancing around the messy desk, she decided to focus on her general manager duties. She didn’t want Mr. Hales to return to open-ended projects she hadn’t completed.

Paige worked for two hours without stopping. She didn’t move until the station’s Human Resources director came in to get her signature on paychecks. Paige told the director she’d sign the checks and hand deliver them herself. Appearing grateful and mentioning a dental appointment, the HR director handed her a stack of envelopes and left. Since one wasn’t quite sealed—namely Marie Fallon’s—Paige couldn’t resist. She made sure no one was watching as she eased the paycheck out of the envelope. Gasping, Paire couldn’t believe her rival was making just five hundred dollars less than she was every month. Thanks a lot, Mr. Hales. This is what I get for getting ATV 10 to number one last year? Paige shoved the check back inside.

After she signed the checks, she began delivering them to gleeful employees. She was glad to get out of the office and happy to see someone smile for once at the sight of her. Besides, she wanted to see Marie’s cubicle. See if there were any photos of players, or God forbid, Marie with Zach. Paige handed out twenty paychecks before stepping down the hallway. She turned to make sure no colleagues were around as she snooped around Marie’s desk.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a list of venomous texts—the exact same texts Paige had received, including the newest one. Confused, she stared at the handwritten list. Is someone threatening Marie too? This is scary. Paige picked up a file to place Marie’s paycheck underneath. What Paige found took her breath away. There was a running list of the nasty hashtags that had been appearing on X, including #Paigeisafraud #FirePaige #PaigetheFake and #Paigesucks. The same hashtags that got her demoted. The same hashtags that caused Mr. Hales to replace Paige with Marie. The hashtags that were trending again, thanks to her new podcast.

Heart pounding, Paige couldn’t breathe when she spotted another list, in Marie’s unique swirly handwriting. She stared in horror as she deciphered the information which appeared to be an ongoing list of payments to social media influencers. Payments ranged from twenty dollars per post to fifty dollars for multiple posts, and even a few hundred if the influencer recruited at least fifty others to help get posts to trend on social media. Paige’s mouth went dry. What the hell? That bitch is behind all of this. She’s paying people to post mean things about me. Marie came up with the awful hashtags! She created this-this takedown. It was her all along. She wants my damn job. Bile rose in Paige’s throat. You are so fucking fired, Marie Fallon. Firing your ass is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me as station manager.