Get Me

  Table Of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright page

  Dedication

  Author's note.

  Saturday, December 17th

  Sunday, December 18th

  Monday, December 19th

  Wednesday, December 21st

  Thursday, December 22nd

  Friday, December 23rd

  Saturday, December 24th

  Sunday, December 25th

  Tuesday, December 27th

  Wednesday, December 28th

  Thursday, December 29th

  Friday, Decemeber 30th

  Saturday, December 31st

  Sunday, January 1st

  Monday, January 2nd

  Tuesday, January 3rd

  Wednesday, January 4th

  Thursday, January 5th

  Friday, January 6th

  Saturday, January 7th

  Sunday, January 8th

  Tuesday, January 10th

  Wednesday, January 11th

  Saturday, August 18th

  Sunday, August 19th

  Books by Jillian Dodd

  About the Author

  JILLIAN DODD

  BOOK 6: GET ME

  BANDIT PUBLISHING

  Copyright 2014 by Jillian Dodd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Jillian Dodd Inc.

  Flower Mound, TX

  ISBN: 978-1-940652-03-0

  THIS BOOK IS FOR

  YOU

  Love yourself.

  Find control in your chaos.

  Follow your heart.

  And don't be afraid to wish on the moon.

  The Keatyn Chronicles series is continuous.

  There is no recap of what happened in earlier books.

  If you haven't read the previous books, be sure to read them first.

  Stalk Me, Kiss Me, Date Me, Love Me, Adore Me, Hate Me.

  When we last saw Keatyn, she had just told everyone the truth about who she is in order to stop Whitney from showing photos of an underage Peyton and Coach Kline.

  Because if they announce that I'm here, Vincent will come.

  And I can't do that to Eastbrooke.

  To the place I love so much.

  I've been stalked and kissed and dated and loved, but now I can see it clearly on their faces.

  Hate.

  I hear the big metal doors behind me close and know that Peyton has made it safely out of the ballroom with the laptop.

  I hate to do it, but I need to tell my friends one more lie.

  Just one more lie.

  And in order to do it, I'm going to have to give the performance of my life.

  But I'll do it because I love them.

  I stand up straighter, jut my chin out, and become the cold, uncaring bitch who takes whatever she wants from whomever she wants because she thinks she's entitled to it.

  I peek through my fingers, finding Aiden.

  He's the one I have to convince more than anyone.

  I smirk, looking at him like he's a piece of trash, not worthy of my time, then shrug. "I came to Eastbrooke because I wanted to see if I could act. To see if I could pretend to be someone else. I lied because . . . Well, because I could. Because I'm a good actress."

  Aiden darts off the dance floor.

  I turn around, my eyes following him.

  Wanting to talk to him.

  To tell him I'm sorry.

  To tell him this isn't how I wanted him to find out.

  My hand reaches out toward him.

  He shakes his head at me, puts his hand up in the halt position, pushes his back against the exit door, and walks straight out of my life.

  Tears spring to my eyes as Whitney grabs my elbow, pulling me close to her.

  "Very slick," she says. "And very interesting. But don't worry, I have backups of the photos. Peyton's not getting out of this."

  I hold my head high, still in bitch mode. "Yeah, she is. Because it just so happens, I have a few photos of my own."

  I reach down, take my phone out of my clutch, click a few buttons, and send her the photo where she's lying across Coach Steele's desk.

  When the picture pops up, the smug look slides off her face.

  I wrench my arm away from her.

  "If you ever try to hurt Peyton or any one of my friends again. If any of those photos ever show up anywhere, I will show these photos to the whole school. I'll tell them how you couldn't get Camden by sleeping with him, so you settled for his brother. I'll tell them that your relationship was a sham."

  "What do I care? I'm going to college."

  I give her a smug, bitchy smile. "Because I'll also send them to every Ivy League school you applied to. Camden kept everything. And there are hundreds of pictures and screenshots for me to choose from. I could release one a week for the rest of your life. If you wait until we're older, then I'll send them to your boss. Your parents. Your friends. Your husband. Because you can bet on this. If those photos ever see the light of day, I will destroy you."

  For the first time since I've known her, Whitney looks scared.

  She nods at me in understanding, puts her head down, and slinks off the stage.

  Still shielding my face, I head off the stage toward Cooper.

  I can tell he's pissed.

  "What the fuck was that? What the hell were you thinking? There are reporters here. We've got to get you out of here now."

  "No."

  "What?"

  "I said no, Cooper. I'm not going anywhere. Help me out by rounding up those reporters. I need to talk to them."

  As he goes off to speak to the reporters, Annie walks up to me and says, "I thought you were different. You made me believe that nice girls could be popular. I've mentioned your resemblance to Abby Johnston quite a few times. We saw her in New York! It would've been so easy for you to tell me the truth. Which means it was all just a mean game to you." She grabs Katie and pulls her into the conversation. "Katie and I are in agreement on this. We're not friends anymore. Although I doubt we ever were."

  Her and Katie march away as I recoil slightly.

  I wasn't expecting that from them.

  I want to go after them and say I'm sorry.

  But I can't.

  I turn around and stare at the door Aiden just walked out of.

  I want to chase him.

  Beg him for forgiveness.

  Tell him the rest of the truth.

  But as I see Cooper and the dean herding the reporters into a room, I know that I can't do that either.

  I remember Grandpa once telling me, Sometimes you can't find yourself until you're lost.

  I thought it was just another silly Southern saying.

  But I get it now.

  I was lost.

  And, somehow, throughout this whole ordeal, I found myself.

  I know exactly who I am.

  And if Aiden is the boy of my dreams . . .

  If he really is my moon boy . . .

  My fate.

  Then he'll understand.

  Someday.

  SATURDAY, DECEMBER 17TH

  Walked out.

  Winter Formal

  I try to rid my mind of Aiden and focus on the task at hand.

  Keeping Eastbrooke safe from Vincent.

  I
walk toward the room where Cooper and the dean have corralled the press.

  As I get to the door, they're both walking out.

  Cooper speaks to the dean in rapid-fire fashion. "She lied because she's being stalked. I'm her bodyguard. We cannot let this get out on social media or Eastbrooke itself will be in danger." Cooper points to some students on the dance floor who are on their phones.

  "I can handle the students," the dean says. "What I can't control is the press."

  "I'll handle them," I say confidently.

  The dean walks onto the stage and takes the microphone. "All right. Everyone listen up. Take out your phones. Excellent. I'd like you to delete any photos you took of Keatyn. If any of you posted about her, Abby Johnston, Eastbrooke, or what just transpired, I'd like you to delete it immediately from any and all social networks. At Eastbrooke, we pride ourselves on our students' security and privacy. Each and every one of you knows security, excellence, leadership, and a sense of community is what keeps Eastbrooke strong. As is always our policy, we will be monitoring your social media to make sure you are showing yourself and our school in the best light. Anyone who publicly speaks of this will face detention and possible expulsion. Do I make myself clear?"

  Cooper says to me, "One down, one to go. You ready?"

  "I need to make a quick phone call first. While I do, could you find me some paper?"

  He grabs a large decorative snowflake off the wall. "Will this work?"

  I can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, that will work." Then I call Damian.

  "I heard what you did for Peyton," he says immediately. "Thank you."

  "Is she okay?"

  "Because of you, yes. But she's a wreck. I'm headed to the airport now."

  "I have a favor."

  "Anything. You know that."

  "I'm about to talk to the local press. In order to keep them quiet about me being at Eastbrooke, I need to give them a bigger story."

  "Bait and switch. Hollywood does it all the time."

  "Unfortunately, I don't have a bigger story to offer."

  "But I do. That's why you called me."

  "You're right. Damian Moran's date in New York City with his new girlfriend would do the trick. But we'd have to fix Peyton's social media first so Vincent can't connect her to me."

  "Of course. We'll do whatever you need. It's the least we can do."

  "Aiden walked out when he heard the truth about my mom."

  "You told everyone the truth? Peyton was sobbing, so it was hard to follow exactly what happened. She just kept saying you saved her."

  "I told them who my mom is, but I didn't tell them the truth about why I lied. I told them it was because I wanted to prove I could act."

  "Why didn't you tell them about the stalker?"

  "Because there are people here who would call Vincent themselves if they knew the real story. I have to protect my friends. Protect Eastbrooke."

  "You should be protecting yourself."

  "That's next on the list. Okay, I have to go."

  "Let's meet tomorrow to discuss."

  "Damian?"

  "What?"

  "Thanks for always being my friend."

  "I love you. I'm pissed and scared that you outed yourself but, at the same time, I'm proud of what you did for Peyton. Seriously, Keats, you've changed. I like it."

  Cooper motions for me to follow him.

  "Thanks, Damian. I gotta go."

  I follow Cooper into a room where the press, three reporters and two cameramen, have gathered. All of them are young.

  And, hopefully, hungry.

  I was going to emulate my mother. She handles the press so well.

  But my mom didn't go through what I did with Vincent.

  I'll just be me.

  I smile, shake each one of their hands, and introduce myself. "Hi. I'm Keatyn." After that, I address them. "So, I have a huge favor. I'd like for you not to report what you just heard."

  "Are you kidding me?" the short, blonde reporter says. "Abby Johnston is big news."

  "You're right. She is. But I'm not her. I mean, what would you report exactly?"

  "That you're at a boarding school using a different last name than hers. Trying to hide who you are."

  I nod, agreeing with her. "Except that my mom and I have had different last names my whole life. Douglas for me. Johnston for her."

  "But you lied about it."

  "So what? I didn't want people to judge me. I wanted to make friends because of who I am, not who my mom is. Not exactly a scandal. I doubt your editors would even print it."

  She looks defeated, but the other reporter narrows her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling there's something more to the story?"

  I give them my slow smile, the one that's exactly like Mom's.

  "Because you're a good reporter." I turn to Cooper. "I'll take that paper now."

  I show them the snowflake and my purple glitter pen. "I'm going to write up a simple non-disclosure agreement. If you sign it and agree not to tell anyone, I'll tell you the truth."

  "But we can't talk about it?"

  "Yes. The story has purposely been kept out of the press."

  They all look at me like I'm nuts.

  I start writing, reading aloud as I do. "This says, I agree not to disclose any details about Keatyn Monroe, Keatyn Douglas, Eastbrooke, or Abby Johnston. I will not discuss what Keatyn tells me with anyone. If the truth comes out before the specified time, I will be subject to a damages lawsuit. This contract will become null and void upon two events: Keatyn's death or when she gives written consent otherwise."

  I turn the paper around and place the pen on top of it.

  No one moves.

  "In return for doing me this favor, I will give you two things. The first is that when my story is ready to be shared with the press, you will get that story exclusively."

  The looks on their faces tell me they aren't really all that excited about a possible future story, so I dangle the bigger bait. "The second is a story you can use now. One every entertainment reporter in the country has been dying for."

  "What's that? Is Abby pregnant again?" the red-haired reporter asks, perking up.

  "Are she and Tommy breaking up?" her photographer asks.

  "Is it true that Tommy is having an affair with the nanny?" another says.

  "If you agree to my terms and sign the NDA, you will get to report on and photograph the first public date of Damian Moran and his new girlfriend. The date will take place in New York City. It will include dinner, a romantic carriage ride through Central Park, and a kiss. Who knows, maybe they'll even window shop at Tiffany's. You'll be given a media packet with pertinent information about the girlfriend along with the story of how they met."

  None of the reporters can hide their surprise.

  And I'm sure none of them ever thought coming to a high school dance would net them a story like this.

  I hold out my pen to the blonde closest to me.

  "I think we can all agree to those terms," she says, quickly signing the agreement.

  Once everyone has signed, I turn to Cooper. "Would you please sign as a witness?"

  I photograph Cooper signing the snowflake, take another of the document itself, and forward them to Sam.

  "Now that the business part is out of the way, I'll tell you my story. If something happens to me, you'll have the inside scoop . . ."

  I'm interrupted by pounding on the door.

  Cooper and I share a glance, mine probably more panicked than his.

  Could Vincent have found me already?

  And would he knock?

  Cooper cracks the door and says, "Not now."

  "Keatyn, we're not leaving!" I hear Riley yell.

  Did he say we?

  Tears start prickling my eyes. I rush to the door and motion for Cooper to open it.

  And that's when I see all of them.

  Riley, Ariela, Jake, Dawson, Maggie, Logan, Dallas, Bryce, and even Katie and Annie are standing outside
the door.

  "We're not leaving," Riley states. He's standing straight and tall with his chin confidently jutting out.

  "And we know you're lying," Jake says, surprising me.

  "I'm not lying, Jake. Abby Johnston is my mom."

  "That part I believe. It's the rest of it. About why you came here. You didn't come to act. And don't think you can fool me. I recognize your mean girl character from drama."

  "And you better have a damn good reason for lying to your best friends," Dallas pipes up.

  I look at Annie. Her eyes are full of tears. She mouths, I'm sorry.

  Cooper moves between us. "They need to go, Keatyn."

  I remember being in Malibu and wondering who my true friends were. I close my eyes for a moment and make a decision. "Why don't you all come in and have a seat."

  Cooper shakes his head. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "I trust them," I say loudly, as much to them as to Cooper.

  I give everyone a hug, ask them to take a seat, and then address them. "I'm about to tell you a secret. It's very important that this secret doesn't get out. If you don't think you can keep the secret, it's okay. We'll still be friends, but I'll have to ask you to leave for a bit."

  No one moves, so I go to Annie. "Are you sure?" I ask her.

  "I'm sorry for what I said. I was hurt and just reacted."

  "I'm sorry for what I said too. While you listen, can you do me a huge favor?"

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Take everything off the Kiki Kiki profile. Delete all the photos. Unfriend everyone. Then delete the account."

  I take a deep breath as I walk to the front of the room.

  Then I start talking.

  And don't stop until I've told them every bit of the truth, from the moment I met Vincent until the moment he tried to kidnap me.

  "Why isn't he in jail?" one of the reporters asks.

  "There wasn't enough evidence to prove attempted kidnapping, so they let him go. Basically, it was his word against mine. He told the police that we were friends. That I invited him to the party. That there was a commotion and he was trying to help. When we were back home, I remembered he mentioned a van out back. The police found a van with duct tape and drugs in it, but it was stolen so they couldn't trace it back to him."

  "Sneaky bastard," Dallas says.

  "Yeah, well, it gets worse."

  "Keep going," Riley encourages.

  "So, we were back at home, just trying to wrap our heads around it all. How I knew him. How they could let him go. What it would mean--when a house alarm went off down the beach at my boyfriend's. It was quickly discovered that whoever broke in took just one thing."