The Target

JoJo's POV

Make-up ✔️

Camera ✔️ 

Go live! 🎬

I click the red Go Live button on the I*******m app. Unsurprisingly, I have three thousand views increasing by the second. Dozens of reactions and comments flood my phone and I read a few,

Sandrakisme: What are you wearing gurlll💘💘 them lips be smokin'

Jainleo&san: Your make-up is super flawless Jojo😭😭😭 We need another facial routine🤧🤧🤧

Charle4twix: What u say Jo😜😜😜, a thousand bucks for one night, I tip well🥵🥵🥵

I swing my gaze to the camera on the top of the screen and slap on a wide smile. 

Let's get this over with.

“Hey! It's your girl Jojo from the KMJ Gone Girls and next week we're hosting The POAT #partyofalltimes on our beach house out here on the West Coast to celebrate our last year in high school,” 

The comments blow up with excited messages.

I fake a pouty look and reply a mention, “I'm sorry @Ariay, it's strictly invite-only.” 

“Now, we want y'all in our party, so we're giving out a hundred slots to our top fans but…” I pause again.

“You just have to share this with twenty people and you're in,” I toss my hair to the side and give the camera a smoky look, “So you better get sharing...”

I end the livestream and fall backwards into my bed, my back hits the soft mattress and a soft sigh leaves me. Several minutes later, my phone rings beside me.

“What do you think you're doing?” a harsh voice demands. 

The screen light dances in my eyes as I see Claire Eastwood on the caller ID.

“Wha… what?” I reply, clearly shocked, and press the record button.

“Oh, you heard me clear as day dumb bitch. You think you can bring your shallow content and stupid friends into my territory to do what you want?” I hear a cackle that sounds like a pecan bird choking on a piece of bone. 

The bitch is green with envy.

Making sure I sound bewildered, I ask, “Claire Eastwood?”

“You know who I am bitch.”

“Of course I do.” I reply like she's the dummy, “Claire Eastwood, Queen of Sabbel High and cheerleader captain of the Sabbel Boars. Girlfriend to the team captain and king of Sabbel High Also… Second-rated teen influencer with over a million followers short of being the top, aren't you that Claire Eastwood?” 

She growls into the phone, “You better watch your back, you and little musketeers ‘cause if you pigged-faced sluts think you can take what I— ”

I cut off her tirade, “It's already taken Claire, stop panting over it.” 

I end the call and my phone rings again and I check the caller ID before answering, “Did you find anything?”

“He was either raised by a monk to explain his strict routines or he's onto us,” Mal responds, setting the camera on Kendrick's selfie stick so I can see them. 

They're in a minivan with half a dozen computer screens set on top of a makeshift table and two chairs taking up half the space while takeout containers, empty pizza boxes, and energy drinks litter about. It's a huge mess.

“The weather here is horrible Jo, My skin is literally peeling off! I feel like a freaking reptile!” Ken grouses from the background, hunkered up like a yellow bunny. 

Every inch of her skin is covered in yellow fabric, only her green eyes are visible and they seem to glow against all the yellow. 

“Yeah, Russia isn't for the small of heart,” Mal teases Ken's small size–Ken is 5 '5–and she shoves her.

“Ow, take it easy kitty,” Mal says with a smirk.

“Take it back, Mal,” Ken says and pushes her again. 

“We joined your live stream, Jo, you looked thirsty,” Mal compliments, subtly changing the topic.

Distracted, Ken turns to the screen, “Yeah, Jo that lipstick looks hot on you, what brand is it? When'd you get it?” 

“Aunt Sherry— I mean Mom got it for my birthday.” I shift the subject, “Sooo… Claire Eastwood called.”

“What was she about?” Kendrick nibbles on her chapped lips.

“Nothing serious, just some threats and tantrums,” I say flippantly trying to ignore the way my heart thunders against my chest.

“Means we've got to move fast before she starts digging,” Mallory comments.

“What about the target?” I ask again, bringing us back to the business of the day.

“He leaves for the gym by 5 a.m. and returns by 10 a.m. with coffee and four bags of bagels. By 4 pm he goes to the club and returns before 3 a.m. the next day. It's the same every day.” Kendrick supplies.

“What about the club?”

“We're on it, my contact needs another day to get the fake pass ready,” Mal says with rare excitement.

Alarm bells flare as I ask, “What do you mean a 'fake pass'?”

“Dude, it's one of the VIP clubs his father owns,” Mallory says with too much excitement and I'm suddenly about the entire scheme. 

“This is too risky…” 

Ken toys with her hair, giving off her nerves, “What do you mean?”

“In middle school, there was a rumor that his father was part of the Russian Mob, it explained why he always had bodyguards following him around that first week of school.”

“That's crazy.” Mallory's eyes widen, “Like the real Mafia?” 

“Yes, Mal, the ones with the guns and the knives and the axes and the katanas. You two should head back, we'll find another way.”

But Ken's shaking her head, “No way. I haven't spent a whole week in this freezing van with a broken heater just to give up halfway.” Mallory nods in agreement.

“What if he is unto you,” I worry.

“He's not that smart,” Mallory assures.

Kendrick peers into the screen, “We'll get the job done Jo, and be back next week like we planned so quit the worry brows,” she gestures to my wrinkled eyebrows which knot whenever I'm anxious.

“We're gonna be fine.” Mallory huffs.

I nod.

“Check-in time is over, we've got some stalking to do,” Mallory declares.

“Stay safe you two. Mal!” she turns to me with the question in her eyes and I lower my voice, “Take care of Ken, Malle...” 

Mallory scowls at the nickname while Ken shouts, “I can take care of myself, Jo!”

“Don't miss us too much,” Mallory smirks and the line disconnects.

A week later, I'm lounging by the pool stretching for a tan in the overhead sun with my headphones on when two bodies crash into me, my headphones disappear, and I'm tossed into the lukewarm pool water that reeks of chlorine.

I screech like Jamie Lee's character from the original Scream movie and hear raucous laughter from the edge of the pool.

After flailing around for a minute, I find my balance and glower at them with the chlorine already pricking my eyes.

“You biches!!!”