What the Tabloids Said

I wake up to the steady sound of the train’s thrumming, yawning and feeling lazy. I’m naked; Ella was eager to get frisky again last night, and I naturally had no objections. I roll over and find my phone somewhere in my bag. There are about a dozen notifications from “Duolingo.”

These are actually messages from Erin’s custom messaging app, disguised as notifications prompting me to learn Spanish. Before I can open up my phone to check them, though, a voice chirps out from above me in a sing-song that is entirely too cheerful.

“Gooood morning! How’d you sleep?”

“Nice to see someone’s in a good mood,” I grumble, craning my neck to get a look at Ella Sue.

She must have clambered back onto the top bunk earlier this morning. She currently lays there tummy-down with her head propped up on a pillow, idly scrolling through her phone, bobbing her head to some music that looks like it has way too many beats per minute in it.

“Just catching up on the news,” she says, “but there’s not too much going on in the world.”

“You’re on TMZ,” I say flatly. “Of course there’s nothing earth-shattering.”

“It’s required reading for those of us in the industry,” she says, mock serious. “How else am I supposed to learn about Taylor Swift’s newest boyfriend?”

“I’m sure those of you ‘in the industry’ could just ask her,” I reply, rolling out of bed. I begin rummaging for my singular change of clothes. I’m going to have to go shopping soon.

“That’ll be me someday,” she sighs wistfully. “I’ll be there on the front cover, posing with Tiffany, the two of us… Oh! Hey! That reminds me, there was an article about her that I read earlier!”

“Really?” I ask, intrigued. “What’s happened?”

So far as I know, Tiffany’s always been a good girl for the media—there’s barely been a whiff of bad gossip about her, despite the mountain-loads of attention that media’s heaped on her. It’s no easy feat, considering the things the paparazzi are willing to do.

“Well it’s not about her exactly,” Ella Sue says. “But here, let me find it for you, it was pretty dramatic…” She passes her phone down to me.

I read the headline, and my blood runs cold.

Tiffany Najbreit’s Sister, MIT Professor, Embroiled in a Stunning Sex Scandal!

“So yeah, not actually about her, but still kind of icky, you know?” Ella Sue is saying, but I don’t really hear the words she’s speaking, my eyes instead scanning over the article, heart sinking with dread.

Who knew Erin Najbreit, half-sister of our Hollywood darling Tiffany Najbreit, could be capable of such a salacious scandal? Following an anonymous tip, our investigative reporters hit the scene in Boston, where we found out all the latest juicy details about MIT’s latest rising star.

What we uncovered will shock you to your core…

It turns out, this goody two-shoes [there’s a flattering photo of Erin looking cute pasted right above the text] has been having threesomes, not only with her fellow professors, but with her students too!

Jerome Fuller, a junior at MIT studying math, told us that he received an invite to what appeared to be “an innocent math contest,” but that, when he showed up, the event turned out to be a “freaky fetish dress-up competition!”

But worst of all, Jerome tells us that the students in attendance—and yes, they did appear to all be students—were only told after joining that the winner would be “**** into having sex with Professor Najbreit and another of her friends.”

What do they really get up to in those universities? And, could this maybe be a reason to suspect that our dear Tiffany isn’t as pure as we thought?

When we reached out to the Najbreit family for comment, house counsel Claire Najbreit only had this to say: “We are, of course, disappointed in Erin. Her actions, which we had no prior knowledge of, do not reflect our family’s values. We have decided to permanently sever relations with her.”

Cold!

Erin is the second member of the Najbreit clan to be officially written out of the will after her half-brother Markus Najbreit was…

“You doing alright?” Ella Sue asks, looking down at me with a concerned expression crossing her face.

I must keep my face perfectly calm. What would a normal person do? What am I to do? Am I in danger? Is Erin in danger? Genevieve? How the fuck did this story even break…

“Weird stuff. I should use the bathroom, freshen up for the day,” I mutter quickly, passing her phone up.

A second later, I have the bathroom door locked behind me, and I stare into my eyes, watching the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I need information. I pull out my phone, putting in the passcode to unlock the messages sent from “Duolingo.”

Fuck, check this link. No way TMZ did any of this reporting themselves; turnaround is too quick, narrative too carefully crafted, definitely were fed this story from outside. This is how Father chose to respond to our stunt.

I’m going to lose my job. Maybe Genevieve too. I’m out of the will, but that was expected. Still, kind of a shitty way to find out.

Erin’s first message was sent at nearly four in the morning. It’s pushing nine now.

I read the rest of the messages quickly. Erin and Genevieve let me know that they’re safe at home, planning to lay low and stay put—it would look too suspicious to the world if they were to suddenly up and disappear, now that the spotlight’s been put on them.

Just woke up. Am safe too, I write back.

Genevieve’s reply is instantaneous: Notice that they kept quiet about you in the tabloids. No mention of your involvement in these recent events. They don’t want people to know that you’re missing, even though a nationwide manhunt could solve their problem instantaneously.

I think for a second. Why out Erin to the media, but not me?

Father went to the media to dissuade anyone else from helping me, I say. But that won’t matter if they don’t know it's me that they’re helping. I’m going to proceed with my plan.

There’s a moment of silence, the little dots scrolling across the screen letting me know that somebody is typing a response out.

You do know the other reason they might want to keep your case under wraps, Erin writes. Here in the limelight, I am safe. You, on the other hand? Nobody even knows you’re missing. You’re a loose end that can be neatly tied up.