Free My Date From Hell by Tellulah Darling

do her bidding. If she couldn’t be top dog, she was sure going to enjoy being second-in-command.
    I was more concerned with what I’d just witnessed. “Did you just zombify Bella?”
    “As if I’d hang with the undead.”
    Fair point. But still. I looked around and realized with growing horror that it wasn’t just one banner and one T-shirt. Photos of Bethany were plastered everywhere, being fawned over by groups of rapt kids in “B” shirts.
    “I don’t understand …” I stammered. “I was only gone two months. How is this possible? What did you do to them?”
    “I didn’t have to do anything,” she shot back. “The people love me.” She smoothed back a strand of her hair.
    “You mean they’re susceptible to the popularity hit Delphyne gave you.”
    Bethany shrugged. “Most of them already admired me. Now they feel good knowing I care about them, too.”
    “Which you don’t,” I retorted.
    “Oh, but I do.” She gestured widely with her hands, including all of her followers like some kind of demented Dalai Lama. “ I love everyone who loves me.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Everyone willing to do what you want.”
    Bethany waved a hand. “Same same. It’s a win-win situation.”
    Uh-huh. “And for those smart enough not to love you?”
    Her eyes glittered with a hard satisfaction. “Trust me. There are very few of those.”
    I threw her a “get real” look. “There are billions of them, Bethany. Sorry to burst your bubble but there’s a world bigger than Hope Park.” I gestured at the banner. “Or the readership of She .”
    Bethany tossed her hair. “That’s where Jack Wing, Head of Wing Media comes in. Even you must have heard of him.”
    My palms glowed. Had I been able, I would have walloped her into a wall at her contempt for me. Instead, I dialed it back and poked her hard in the chest. Bethany was one of the few humans who knew all about me, so periodic reminders of the bodily harm I could do never hurt. “Don’t push me.”
    You’d have to be living under a rock not to know Jack Wing. His reality TV shows like Snake Eyes (wannabe gamblers seeking fame and fortune) and Wrong Note (wannabe musicians seeking same) were watched globally. But the show that hit stratosphere proportions for both popularity and trash-factor was Endgame , where contestants fought chess “battles” as weird pageantry met Japanese game show-style challenges in a race across a giant chessboard.
    Jack Wing was the ultimate puppet master of reality TV. But I still didn’t see the connection. “What’s the deal?”
    Bethany was more than happy to enlighten me. She leaned in, making sure I followed every word. “He adores me. See, it turns out that my charms are amplified on video. I had Jack twisted around my little finger in a second. I requested fame and he happily complied. I’m multi-media now, bitch.” Bethany gave a satisfied smirk at my dawning understanding.
    Jack’s global reach plus Bethany’s magicked charms equaled one very worrisome situation.
    “Saturday,” she continued, starting up the stairwell, me the one now trotting at her heels, “I’ll be crowned Winter Formal Queen. Jack’s going to feature the video as the final segment on his show Global Voyeur . Cross-posted across all platforms as a final ramp up to Doggy Style . To really cement the idea of me being media royalty.” She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “I have always wanted to land a prince.”
    I stepped in close. “Over my dead body.”
    She smiled. As if that could be arranged. “Soon after the dance,” she continued, “my show goes on the air. The masses will worship me. I’m going to be the world’s most famous celebrity.” She continued up the steps.
    “For bending over?” I asked motioning to the image of Bethany in her downward dog on some passing kid’s T-shirt. “How appropriate.” The situation was worse than I thought if this media mogul thought a show called Doggy Style was appropriate