the club, for both our sakes. I wasn’t ready to be around him yet.
Kat: Oh holy shit you have over 700 comments on your Seattle Met article! And Cosmo and Redbook just published articles too. Your PR friend is a genius! Trolls took the bait (including someone claiming to be UltimateDDay) and are battling all these liberal Seattleites and women’s rights advocates, who are rallying for you! Tallyhooooo!
Fresh tears brimmed on my eyelashes and trickled down my cheeks. Candace had really pulled through for me. So had the Seattle Met, and a lot of their readers.
Tallyho, motherfuckers.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kat sent me a text. Why is Asher in Sue’s office?
Had he actually reported me for not-technically dating Nolan? My pulse sped up as I walked down the HR corridor. When I passed Sue’s room, I looked over as discreetly as possible, which really wasn’t at all. Asher was seated in one of her guest chairs, facing her, and Sue didn’t even look up when I zipped by. Usually, she waved.
After my recon work, I texted Kat. Couldn’t see anything. Nada.
My stomach churned, jaw muscles tightened, knowing that any moment I could be called into Sue’s or Ian’s office to be let go. Terminated. My biggest nightmare becoming my reality. As various scenarios of getting fired played out in my mind, Kat messaged again. Interesting email. Very unexpected. Maybe Asher’s not such a horrible guy after all?
Seventeen Studios had issued a formal statement: an incident had been reported in which an employee shared proprietary information with external media without proper clearance. Such action was not permitted at the company and warranted disciplinary action, including possible probation or termination.
At last, something was being done about Ian’s deliberate actions that had directly resulted in my utter misery. Finally, he would be held accountable.
Just before leaving work at a reasonably early time, WheedWacker disclosed the identities of many of my self-righteous, vicious cyberbullies. And they weren’t your stereotypical basement dwelling, Mountain Dew–drinking virgins.
@ApeSht75: A white middle-aged accountant (ACCOUNTANT? WTF) from Des Moines, IA. Family man. Churchgoer with a lesbian mother and sister.
@Hi_TierX: Upper 20s neuroscience PHD candidate. White. Played a LOT of video games. Harassed a LOT of women, people of color, and LGBTQ.
@GSquad_7: This guy was always getting banned on social media and wanted to rape everything. EVERYTHING. It was all he talked about. He just turned 18.
@XBulletGamr: In his 50s, lived with his mom, a day trader who posted lots of porn pics. Mostly Asian fantasy porn.
@gravitygirl23: A black female gamer in her 20s. She posted about #girlpower in a sarcastic way and hated all women of all races. To be fair, she also hated men of all races. She must have a backstory, but WheedWacker couldn’t find it.
@flipper9000: A Filipino American guy in his 30s. Single. He did not like Asian women. In fact, he hated them. All of them.
She texted: Want me to dox them? I have cell #s, addresses, SSNs, even banking info. I wouldn’t go that far though.
I could have asked WheedWacker to do it, and she would have. Posting that personal information would have escalated this to another level, but I refused to add more fuel to the fire. Game over. This stupid shit needed to stop.
Nah, no need. The harassment has really taken a nosedive since my Seattle Met interview, but thank you for everything. Justice Brigade saved me.
WheedWacker responded: By the way, we changed our name to Bitch Brigade. Police and Media confused Justice Brigade with the Justice League like all the time, and Wonder Woman was the only goddamned woman on that Justice League team. We’ll go by B.B. effective immediately.
Me: Has a nice ring to it. I love this bitch identity appropriation. You might think about 13.13 as another way to express B.B. It’s way nerdier.
WheedWacker replied: 13.13. Yes! Well, we can get you those files if you need them anytime. Just ask Candace, and she’ll find me. I’m disconnecting this number now. Good luck, Gamer Girl.
I wrote: No, thank YOU, but the message did not go through.
The rain had let up, and now the skies were clear, not a single cloud for miles. No bluebirds singing, though. The sun burned my eyes, like someone coming out of a dark movie theater and being thrust into direct sunlight. This momentary pause in precipitation was glorious. Pedestrians swished past me, some talking on their phones on their way home, some chatting with friends or coworkers, and a few walking alone. My body tingled all the way