Chapter 2 #2
She grins, standing. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve got to go update your Wikipedia page to include your new status as an interior design icon.”
I groan. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
Gloria pats my shoulder sympathetically as she walks past. “Nope. But hey, at least you’re trending for something other than your hairstyle or your love life, so we’ll take that as a win, right?”
“Your definition of ‘win’ needs some work.”
She laughs and heads for the door. “Love you too, boss.”
My daily workout is supposed to clear my head. But it doesn’t work today. Instead, I can’t stop thinking about the guy in the video.
The way his dimples deepened when he grinned. The brightness of his laugh. The fact that he was so happy to mock himself and me in equal measure.
After I’ve had my shower, I head to the couch. Wondering what the hell I’m doing, I track down the original account that posted the Instagram reel. Then I log into my private Instagram account, AntD, and send NickKnackPaddyWhack a message.
AntD
Hey, just wanted to say I really enjoyed the tour of your apartment. The part where you mocked me relentlessly was good, but I have to say your fig tree was the real highlight.
My phone pings with a message five minutes later.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Sure, it’s all about the size of my…fig tree.
I laugh. Actually laugh, not just the polite version I’ve perfected for interviews. Okay, so he’s as funny in text as he was in the video.
AntD
Well, you know what they say—it’s not the size of the fig tree that matters, it’s how you decorate around it.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I have to say, that’s much more profound than I expected from someone randomly popping into my DMs. I might include it in my upcoming book, The Zen of Milk Crate Furniture: Finding Enlightenment on a Budget.
I laugh again.
AntD
I really think you’ve got the “broke college student chic” aesthetic nailed. It’s like you’ve taken minimalism to a whole new level.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
There’s a possibility that minimalism, in my case, is just a fancy word for “I can’t afford real furniture.” But I like to think of it as a statement. A commentary on the fleeting nature of material possessions in an increasingly consumerist society.
AntD
Deep, man. You really should write that book.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I’ll get right on that, right after I finish my other masterpiece, 101 Ways to Cook Ramen: A Student’s Guide to Gourmet Dining.
AntD
I expect both will be bestsellers.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Oh, totally.
Anyway, let’s pretend you’re Anthony Devine and not someone pranking me. What happened to all your followers?
AntD
This is my private Instagram account.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
A very convenient story. Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you’re secretly a down-to-earth guy who just wants to connect with someone who sees past the fame and fortune.
I stare at the phone for a few heartbeats before I tap out my reply.
AntD
You got me. I’m just a regular dude who happens to have a killer falsetto and a weakness for hair gel.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
A weakness for hair gel? That’s like saying the Titanic had a mild ice problem. I’ve seen Anthony Devine’s hair defy physics in ways that would make Einstein weep.
Another laugh escapes me. God, this guy is really something.
AntD
It’s good to see you don’t limit your mocking to only my architectural videos.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
No, I’m definitely equal opportunity when it comes to mockery. Come on, I mean, the guy is pretty much perfect. We’ve got to find the small stuff to make fun of, otherwise he’s just intimidatingly flawless, and that’s bad for everyone’s self-esteem.
AntD
I’m definitely not perfect.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Oh, that’s right, you’re actually Anthony Devine, aren’t you?
AntD
I’m glad you’re catching on to that fact.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
My bad. Should I be addressing you as Mr. Devine? Your Excellency? Oh Glorious One with the Impossible Cheekbones?
I’m grinning like an idiot at my phone screen, and I don’t even care. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a simple text exchange this much. Maybe I never have.
AntD
Just Ant is fine. I’m actually just a simple, straightforward guy buried under all the hair gel.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Yeah, I can tell. My heart bleeds for you, having to cope with the burden of being ridiculously good-looking and talented.
AntD
Yeah, I caught all those bleeding-heart vibes when you mocked me ruthlessly on video and shared it with the entire internet.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Did you miss the part where I said I’m your biggest fan?
AntD
Well, I guess someone who goes to such an effort to spoof me must be some kind of fan.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Oh, totally. I’m president of the Anthony Devine fan club. We meet every Tuesday to analyze your lyrics and argue over which of your hairstyles is the most iconic.
AntD
I’m honored. Though I have to say, I’m a little disappointed you haven’t invited me to any of these meetings. I feel like I could offer some valuable insights.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Sorry, members only. We have a very strict policy against fraternizing with the object of our obsession. We like to fanboy and fangirl from afar.
AntD
Damn. And here I was, ready to give you an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at the real Anthony Devine.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I’m curious about what that would entail. Information on your burrito addiction, your habit of singing Italian in the shower, and your irrational fear of butterflies?
My mouth drops open. Gee, this guy is really living up to his superfan status. I’m pretty sure I only ever mentioned my fear of butterflies in one early interview I did with a Japanese newspaper.
AntD
Do you know everything there is to know about Anthony Devine?
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Everything? Nah, that would be creepy. I only know about 99.9% of everything. The remaining 0.1% keeps me up at night.
AntD
I’ll happily fill you in on the remaining 0.1%. I wouldn’t want your sleep deprivation on my conscience.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Sure, “Anthony.” You can tell me your deepest dreams and desires.
AntD
I’m sensing some skepticism. What makes you think I’m not the real deal?
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that international pop sensations don’t usually slide into random fans’ DMs after being mocked online?
AntD
Fair point. But what if I told you I’m bored and procrastinating on writing my next hit single?
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Sure, “Anthony.” And I’m secretly Beyoncé. Want to collab on my next album?
AntD
Sure thing.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Deal. I’ll expect my royalty check in the mail. Make it out to “Definitely the Real Beyoncé.”
I can’t help chuckling.
But it’s unexpectedly freeing that Nick doesn’t actually believe I’m me. That he’s choosing to keep talking to a random stranger simply because he finds the conversation worth having.
When’s the last time someone wanted to talk to me just because they enjoyed it? Not for the social media clout. Not for concert tickets or celebrity introductions. Just…for the conversation itself.
And the freedom to say whatever I want, to be whoever I am without the weight of my name attached, feels almost dangerous.
It’s the kind of feeling that could become addictive if I’m not careful.