Page 192 of You've Got Hate Mail

---

“Ten? He’s easy to manipulate when you know what you’re doing. We got him drunk, so he’ll sleep it off all day and you’ll be asleep before he’s up.”

She stares at me for half a second, then barks out a laugh.

I tilt my head at her. “What did he?—”

“Don’t ask.”

Okay then.

Off-limits.

Got it.

“Oh! Your eyeball. Here.” I snag it off the stairs where I dropped it, then hand it to her. “I have to go talk to Ginny.”

“Try the event space. Caro wanted to map out tables inside.”

“Thank you!”

“Sorry about the beaver,” she calls after me as I race down the stairs.

“I’m glad they’re paying you a fuckton of money for it,” I call back.

Fuck the trolls.

It all makes sense now.

I know what we have to convince Pip to do.

And I think she’ll agree.

“Cricket?” Heath says, popping his head out of the mother-in-law house as I race by.

I wave at him. “Fuck the trolls,” I call.

Have to talk to Ginny.

Ten can apparently talk Pip into anything when she’s tipsy.

But Ginny—Ginny can hopefully do it when Pip’s sober.

We’re saving our home.

And we’re doing it with ourselves.

Our own story.

If Ginny agrees.

I burst into the event space building, and Ginny and Caro both turn to look at me.

“Cricket? What’s wrong?” Ginny asks.

“Ten convinced drunk Pip to sell all of the old wine but rebrand it and I think we should call the new lineFuck the Trollswine and name all of the flavors after us and how we went viral,” I say without taking a breath.

“Does wine come in flavors? Or is it varieties?” Caro asks.

Ginny doesn’t answer.

---