When It's Real. Erin Watt
He hesitates again. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I answer, and the twins release simultaneous groans and then proceed to make gagging noises, their light brown hair flopping all over the place.
I hang up and toss the phone to Spencer. “Here, you brats. Go call your precious Kenny.”
After they dart off, I collapse on the bed and curse the day I let Paisley convince me to meet with Jim Tolson and his entourage.
Claudia believes that someone could pull our phone records, so for two months I can’t call W on my own phone or my sister’s, which means I’m at the mercy of two twelve-year-old boys.
And I actually had to ask Claudia’s permission before I could make the call. And then she had to hold a stupid brainstorming session with her PR team to determine if it makes sense for W to keep in touch with his ex-girlfriend’s little brothers. I reminded her that W was a part of my family for two years, so of course he would be close with my brothers.
“Phone,” my sister’s voice says, jolting me out of my thoughts. Paisley walks into my room and holds out her iPhone. “Claudia.”
A silent scream goes off inside me. Oh, my God. I cannot deal with another one of Claudia’s dumb requests right now.
“You’re going to make your account private today,” Claudia says instead of hello.
“Why? Because of all my new followers?” I woke up this morning to discover I have twenty-five thousand new followers on Twitter. I almost died from shock.
“Because we want to fuel the fire even more. If you suddenly go private, Oakley’s fangirls won’t be able to follow you and it will drive them crazy. They’ll start gossiping on their own feeds and speculating about why you’re private, and the ones who are already following you will start screen-shotting your Tweets and turn you into an even hotter commodity.”
I don’t bother to argue. I’ve given up on trying to figure out the logic of a publicist.
“Fine,” I say. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Amy’s emailing you an archive of your Twitter account. Start deleting all the pictures with your ex-boyfriend.”
I’m outraged. “How did you get an archive of my account? And how did you get my email address?”
“From Jim. Don’t ask how he got it. He’ll never tell,” Claudia chirps. “Anyway, we’d like all traces of your ex-boyfriend gone from your account by tomorrow. You did it, of course, to erase him from your life.”
Bitterness climbs up my throat. “If you have access to my archive, why don’t you delete them?”
“Oh, of course. We’d be happy to do it for you. We just thought you might like to do it yourself. Getting over an ex is a difficult process for a teenage girl.”
I imagine some stranger going through my pictures of W and clicking the little trash can button, and I realize she has a point. “Forget it. I’ll do it. And he’s not my ex, Claudia!”
“He is in the eyes of the world.” She’s starting to sound annoyed with me. “One last thing. We need you to go out to dinner with your family tonight.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Why?”
“Lord, Vaughn, is that your favorite word—‘why’? Careful, sweetie, or I’m going to start answering with ‘because I said so.’”
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw twitches. “Why do I need to go out for dinner, Claudia?”
“Because it’s family night. As of right now, you and your siblings go out once a week for family night.”
I respond with her favorite word. “Why?”
“Because that’s what wholesome people do!” There’s a loud, frustrated huff in my ear, and then her voice softens. “Is your Instagram linked to your Twitter?”
“Yeah. Wh—” I halt before the rest of the question slips out. She’s already pissed off at me as it is.
“Good. At dinner tonight, post a picture of you and your family. It doesn’t matter if the brothers are in it. But your sister has to be.”
“I assume you know what I’m going to ask.”
She heaves out an exasperated sigh. “It’ll be an organic way to reveal that your sister works at Diamond. Oakley will comment on the picture, and then that bit of information will come out.”
“Fine. I’ll post something tonight.”
I hang up without saying goodbye then holler at the door, “Paisley, get in here.”
She appears within seconds. “What’s up?”
“Tell the twins to put on some nice clothes,” I say as I toss her cell phone over. “We’re going out to dinner.”
“Why?”
“It’s family night.”
My sister arches a brow. “Why?”
Oh, wow. That word really is annoying. “Because that’s what wholesome people do!” I shout, and then I march to my closet to find something to wear.
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