
Caught on the Jumbotron
Author
Galatea
Reads
247K
Chapters
12
Trouble
Some women get mad. Some get even. She got a rockstar
ELLIE
Official statement from Eleanor Brighton, wife of CEO Derek Brighton:
It has come to my attentionāand the attention of the entire internetāthat my husband, Derek Brighton, made his affair public at the Goldray concert. On the jumbotron. Let me be perfectly clear. I donāt cry for clowns. I will not be forgiving him. I will not offer grace. I will, however, rebuild. Do not pity me, pity him. While he is spiraling, Iām ascending.
Iām taking what is mine. Just wait until you see me rise.
48-hours-earlierā¦
Where the hell is Derek? He promised me weād have lunch together today. To be honest, lunch isnāt the correct term.
Ever since Derek started NFNLYF, his AI company designed to extend human life, he only drinks pureed vegetables and calls it āsecond meal.ā
I walk down the marble hallway, peeking into conference rooms with sleek floor-to-ceiling windows. The Silicon Valley NFNLYF office is too austere for my taste, but Derek doesnāt care for my opinion.
Across the hall, I spot Derekās assistant, Jenny. Sheās young, smart, and eager to please. I smile as I approach.
āHey, Jenny! Have you seen Derek?ā
Jennyās eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. āEleanor! Um, hello. Is Derek expecting you?ā
My stomach sinks. āHe should be. Weāre on for lunch?ā
Jenny holds up a long, slender finger with a perfectly manicured nail. āOne moment. Let me check his schedule.ā
With the amount of professional success Derek has already achieved, I hoped heād stop working such long hours and start spending more time with me. Weāre young empty nesters.
I set aside my own career aspirations to raise our kids while Derek went after his dreams. Now his startup is worth billions.
Weāre supposed to reconnect, to have date nights, and travel abroad and share adventures. Or at the very least, have lunch together.
Weāre only forty-fiveāweāre not dead.
But thatās part of the problem. Derek wants to avoid death by ābio-hackingā his body, which means no more booze, pizza, television, or sex.
Twenty years ago, we had a great sex life. But somewhere between the supplements and the ādopamine fasting,ā I lost the man I loved.
āHeās in his cryotherapy session,ā Jenny responds. āIf youād like to wait, heāll just be a few moreāā
I ignore her and begin descending the marble staircase to the dark room that houses the cryotherapy chamber Derek had installed.
Iām tired of waiting for him. Iām his wife. He can talk to me now.
The machine is whirring like a jet engine as I approach. Taking a deep breath, I open the door to the chamber, then scream as a blast of liquid nitrogen hits me.
āFuck, thatās cold!ā
Derek is standing there, naked, his skin glowing. Itās unnaturally smooth, like a piece of shiny rubber. He glares at me.
āDamn it, Ellie! Iāll never beat Bryan Johnson in the Rejuvenation Olympics if you disrupt my algorithm like this!ā
I refrain from rolling my eyes. āCan you come out, please? Itās freezing!ā
āNo. Youāve interrupted vasoconstriction. Iāll have to start over again.ā
My shoulders slump. Iāve begun daydreaming again. Not about other men, but about Derek, the way he used to be, before he cared about any of this crap.
The irony is that he looks goodāchiseled as hellābut he wonāt let me touch him. Iād take a dad-bod over this clinically detached version of my husband any day.
āAre we still on for lunch? I meanā¦umā¦second meal?ā
Iām shivering now, even though Iām fully dressed. Arctic air is blasting me in the face, liquid nitrogen pooling in a cloud at my feet.
āSorry,ā Derek says casually. āJenny mustāve double-booked me. I have a meeting with my head of HR, Candi.ā
Derek always puts work first. Candi started less than a year ago. Sheās my age, but has Botoxed her face and Juvedermed her lips into a state of dewy plumpness.
I guess toxins donāt matter when theyāre turning back the clock.
āYou canāt reschedule it?ā
āIām afraid not.ā
I sigh. āOkay. How about dinner together then? We can order takeout and watch Succession.ā
Derek steps out of the cryotherapy machine, toweling himself off.
āI will not give myself ādigital dementiaā and I certainly wonāt be eating anything with polyunsaturated fats. But no, I canāt. Iām taking the team to see Goldray tonight, at the SAP Center.ā
I feel a pang of jealousy. āGoldray? Can I come?ā
I lied when I said I donāt daydream about other men. Thereās only one man I do daydream aboutāLeo Vossāthe lead singer of Goldray.
Something about his British accent coupled with his tattooed, rugged good looks makes him irresistible. And anyway, celebrity crushes donāt count.
āNo,ā Derek says firmly, throwing down his towel. āNFNLYF team members only.ā
He stands there, fully nude, glaring at me.
āFine,ā I say. āIāll order takeout for myself.ā
āHydrogenated oils will kill you!ā Derek calls after me as I turn and walk away.
Outside the building, Iām about to get into my car when Jenny runs through the double doors, her key card swinging from her neck.
āEleanor! Wait!ā
For a minute, I panic, wondering if sheās going to lecture me about the dangers of blue light and ādigital dementiaā on Derekās behalf.
I pause, car keys in hand. āIs everything okay?ā
āYep!ā she says, out of breath. Then she blinks rapidly and clears her throat. Iāve never seen her so nervous before.
āYou sure?ā
āIāum,ā Jenny pauses to cough. āIām coming down with a cold. And I canāt join the team to see Goldray tonight. I was hoping youād take my ticket.ā
āReally?ā A smile spreads across my face. āIām sorry youāre feeling under the weather. Honestly, Iād love to. But Derek said itās a team-bonding thing. He doesnāt want me to come.ā
She laughs, high-pitched and staccato. āNo! You should absolutely come. Heā¦changed his mind. Just meet Derek and the team at the SAP Center. Iāll take care of everything else. Have fun.ā
Jenny presses a Goldray ticket into my hands, then turns around and gives me a little wave before jogging back toward the building.
Huh. That was weird.
But I donāt have time to overthink things. I havenāt seen Goldray in concert since their last album came out, three years ago.
Rumor is, this one isnāt as good, but who cares?
A shiver of excitement runs through me at the thought of ogling Leo Voss while listening to his gorgeous voice. And maybe, just maybe, Derek will allow himself to be human for the night, and we can sway together under the stadium lights, remembering who we used to be.
***
The stadium is packed, and I double-check the seat number on my ticket. Weirdly, itās up in the nosebleeds, even though Derek can afford VIP seating for the team.
Iām late, and haunting strains of a familiar melody reach my ears. Cheers rise from the crowd.
Leo Voss is beginning to play one of my favorite songs, Midnight Requiem. I glance at the huge TV screen, smiling as I drink him ināfull lips, piercing green eyes, perfectly disheveled hair, tattoo sleeves, and an aura that screams āsex appeal.ā
I havenāt had sex in over a year, ever since āsemen retentionā became an essential part of Derekās biohacking rituals.
I pass the concession stand, and the popcorn smells like buttery heaven. Derek wonāt share it with me, but maybe Candi will?
She may look like a Barbie, but she seems nice. I go ahead and order a large popcorn.
Then, in a moment of rebellion, I order a beer. A cold Corona will taste delicious.
Iām weaving through the crowd, making my way upwards toward plaza seating when Leo Voss begins to speak.
āI know youāre tired of looking at me, so weāre going to put some of you up on the big screen.ā
Briefly, I glance up at the jumbotron and see a family waving at the camera.
Leo laughs.
āOh, precious. Look at thisāmum, dad, and a little baby. Sheās wearing pink headphones! Is she old enough to be here? Ah, fuck itāstart āem young. Oh, fuck, I shouldnāt be cursing. Moving along.ā
Nostalgia tugs at my heartstrings. I remember those busy days, when my kids were little.
Now Iām lucky if they call home once a week.
Focusing on the stairs ahead of me, I make an effort not to spill my beer or my popcorn. Leo continues talking.
āShout out to the group of young lads over there! Thanks for coming, mates. Oh, okay, theyāreā¦are they twerking now? Iām actually not sure if you lot are at the right concert. Sabrina Carpenter is down the street.ā
Iām slightly dizzy as I reach the top of the stadium. Not winded; with a spouse like Derek, I also keep fit, just not in an obsessive way.
I look around for row C, find it, and apologize as I squeeze past concertgoers toward seat two hundred nineteen.
āAlright,ā Leo says in his charming accent. āWho else have we got? Ah, nice, this middle-aged couple right here. You, in the shirt with the infinity symbol on it. And you, the blonde with the bracelets.ā
The words āinfinity symbolā catch my ear. Thatās Derekās company logo.
I look up and my heart plummets as I see Derek on the jumbotron, embracing Candi lovingly from behind. Her hands are on top of his, their fingers intertwined.
Candi gasps, covering her face, and turns her back to the camera.
Derek blinks a few times, as if he canāt believe whatās going on, and then he tries to duck out of view, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Except heās been caught with his hands groping Candiās big silicone boobs.
I look from the jumbotron to the horror playing out in front of me. I think I might be sick.
āOh, do you not want to be on camera?ā Leo says. āEither theyāre just very shy, or theyāre having an affair.ā
The sounds of the stadium fade away as I approach the two of them. My husband and his HR director, pretending the whole stadium didnāt just see him wrapped around her like a boa constrictor.
Iām shaking with rage. Iām speechless.
Derek is still crouching on the ground. I look at his flushed cheeks, his sweaty brow, and then at Candi, whose mouth falls open when she sees me.
Derek looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights. He holds up his hands.
āHoney, I can explain.ā
āWait, whoās this?ā Leo says. āBrunette wearing leather pants, and a Goldray T-shirt, looking very beautiful I might add. Oh shit. Is she his wife?ā
The jumbotronās still filming us. Across the stadium, I make eye contact with Leo. In this bizarre, awful moment, I feel like heās here to support me.
Yes, I am his wife, for exactly five more secondsā¦I want to say. Then I look down at the beer in my hands.
I pull my shoulder back, lifting the plastic cup high above my head. I look directly at Derek.
āYou. Asshole.ā
And then I hurl the cup forward, sending beer flying at his face.








































