Chapter 5

"You are Sarah Hudson?" the man said, tapping his pen on the table. He was the owner of the burger place I'd applied to as a dishwasher. We were in his office, a cramped room with stacks of boxes in the corner and a TV humming on the wall.

"Yes, I am."

"You're that billionaire ex, right? The one with the video?"

"Uh… yeah." I didn't have the energy to tell him the truth.

A small smirk formed on his lips.

“I gotta tell you, you looked amazing in it. You got techniques, for sure.”

I didn’t reply. I wanted to go home and stand in the shower until the water ran cold and washed away all the filths that just stuck to my skin.

"Anyways… Can you explain to me why you're applying for a job as a dishwasher?"

I went quiet. Maybe I should have told him the reason I was there was that I got nothing from the divorce and I needed to survive. I'd applied for fifty jobs in two weeks and they either ignored me completely or said they didn't want that kind of reputation attached to their company.

But I didn't say anything. I looked at my hands, humiliated that I was in this position at all. Not the position of being a dishwasher. The position of sitting in a room where everyone thought they'd seen my sex tape. The position where men thought they saw my body and how I do intimacy.

"Right. To be honest, if you were just some regular girl I'd take you on. But look here. You got a stacked resume. You can get a job anywhere you want. The only reason you came here is because nobody wants you."

"I promise you, sir, I will work — "

"I don't think you should work this kind of job, miss. It'll tire you to the bone and it pays almost nothing."

"Please just give me a chance. I will work harder, I will not complain —"

"Sorry, miss. Stacked resume means unreliable. I guarantee you'll be out of here the second you get a better opportunity."

I went quiet again. The rejection didn’t sting as much as it used to before, so I just nodded.

He looked past me at the television and picked up the remote and turned it up.

"Look! Your ex!"

I turned around. Mark was on the screen with the girl I'd seen in the office, coming out of a restaurant into a wall of paparazzi.

"Mark! Is this your new girlfriend?"

"Mark! Over here!"

They didn't answer any of it. They held onto each other like they'd been together a long time. The way he used to hold me.

Then they got into the car that I had been inside millions of times and left.

"That girl is really hot. Pepper, I think her name is? She's been rotating through socialites for a while, and now she's snagged the ultimate prize."

He looked at me and smirked again. The smirk was different this time, more sinister.

“You know, if you’re really that desperate, I’ll be free tonight. Why don’t we spend some time together at my place and see if you can make me change my mind about not hiring you?” He said, licking his lips.

I wanted to throw a cup of water on the table to his face so badly. I wanted to scream at him, asking him what right did he think he had to disrespect me that way.

But instead I thanked him for his time and walked out of his office.

***

After several more weeks of rejection, and after looking at what was left in my account, I decided the best thing I could do for me and my baby was to live with my parents and wait until the storm passed. I packed and sent my things to my parents' house, bought a plane ticket, and sold my car.

I got to the airport three hours early because I had nowhere else to be. I waited at Gate 14, which smelled like burnt coffee and carpet shampoo.

"—rows one through nine, at this time."

I got up and got in line, but the queue wasn't moving.

Everyone's chin had gone up. All along the row, one after another, like something passing down a wire.

There was a screen bolted above the desk. No sound.

BREAKING — JUPITER CEO MISSING AFTER AVALANCHE AT COL D'ARLENS

They ran his photograph. Then aerial footage. White going on and on past the edges of the frame. Orange dots strung out in a line, moving across it left to right, so slow I checked twice to see if the picture had frozen.

A number in the corner counting up. Nine hours.

Somebody down the row said his name. Then a man near the window said "God," and then, to no one, "that's the Jupiter guy, that's — my sister's whole pension's in that."

"Ma'am?"

The woman at the desk had her hand out, palm up.

"Ma'am. Are you boarding, or—"

I didn't move. I thought about going back to the mansion and waiting there for him. I thought about calling his number, which I already knew he wouldn't answer. I thought about calling his friends to find out what had actually happened.

None of it was mine anymore. Not the house. Not the mountain. Not him.

"Ma'am, I'm closing the flight."

I put the pass in her hand.