A collective intake of breath.
Phones went up higher.
“That’s not—” Pamela said. “That’s—you can’t—that’s taken out of context—”
“There’s more,” Terrence said.
He held up one more printout.
It wasn’t from our security camera.
It was a screenshot.
From TikTok.
@PamsRealTalk. LIVE.
The first frame of her own livestream.
The juice aisle from the middle shelf. Henry on his ladder in the background.
And in the foreground, pressed flat against the side of the stock cart, a woman’s hand.
With a French manicure.
And a very large diamond ring.
“That’s from your livestream,” Terrence said. “The first eleven seconds. It’s still up. Right now. On your account. Anybody can watch it.”
He turned the printout so the crowd could see.
“You filmed yourself doing it,” he said.
Pamela looked at the printout.
She looked at her phone.
She looked at the comments scrolling up the side of her own livestream.
