Chapter 2
Ripley
I’m eating baby food for breakfast. Technically, it’s toddler food – little puff cereal balls in pastel colors because they’re made with natural ingredients. And also, it’s not really my breakfast. It’s my niece Molly’s, which she refuses to eat, so I’m trying to show her it’s not that bad.
Spoiler: it’s gag-worthy.
‘No.’ Molly crosses her arms in her chair. Her purple bow clings precariously to her brown curls as she shakes her head.
I glance down at my watch, nerves flaring when I see time slipping away.
She’s supposed to be at preschool in ten minutes.
I volunteered to drop her off before I head to school.
‘Molly –’ I lean down and whisper so my very pregnant sister, Anna, won’t hear – ‘if you eat this for me, we can get ice cream later. Deal?’
She breaks into a grin that makes her look so much like her mom. ‘Deal.’ She shoves a handful of cereal into her mouth. I remind her to chew before swallowing as I get up to help Anna, who’s spilled her purse contents all over the floor.
‘I got it.’ I squat, grabbing the runaway items. Anna’s house is cozy, with a rustic fireplace in the center of the living room, accented by wood trim and paneling on most walls.
It’s a few steps away from being a full-blown cabin.
I’m not a nature person, but this kind I can get behind. It’s like being hugged by a tree.
Huffing, she pushes hair out of her face, the same ink-black color as mine.
‘Thanks, Ripley. Seriously.’ She leans against the couch, hands coming around her huge belly – something I would never voice out loud, obviously.
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. With Mike traveling for work, I’m burning the candle at both ends. ’
Mike. I curse silently, grinding my molars.
Anna’s no-good husband is never around, even when he is home.
If Anna hadn’t got pregnant with Molly, I wonder if they’d still be together.
They never seemed like they were in love.
Then again, most people who say they are usually aren’t.
It’s best to avoid the whole thing, if you ask me.
‘Molly,’ I call, rechecking the clock. I loathe being late. Watching time get away from me is like a woodpecker tick, tick, ticking against my skull. ‘Time to scoot. Anna, maybe you need to use Mom’s app to find a husband who’ll be a real partner.’
Again, I don’t believe in that crap. True love, happily ever after, blah, blah, but Anna does, and so does our mom.
That’s why Mom runs a dating app and has been married four times – the latest ending a year ago.
I haven’t bothered to form a relationship with any of the husbands – my birth father included.
‘Juliet, stop.’ I know my sister is serious when she uses my first name.
No one calls me Juliet except Mom and teachers on the first day of school.
I hate it. I refuse to share a name with a tragic chump from a centuries-old play who was so conned by love that it ended up killing several people.
If that isn’t a life lesson that infatuation is dangerous, I don’t know what is.
‘Just a suggestion.’ I keep the rest of my opinion to myself. Secretly, I think Anna only stays with Mike because she doesn’t want to end up collecting as many divorces as Mom – got to love generational trauma. It’s like she’s trying to prove that the apple did fall very far from the tree.
I shoulder on my backpack, spine aching from the weight. I’m trying to graduate early, but so far, junior year has been the toughest yet.
My phone rings as I strap Molly into her car seat. ‘Ugh,’ I mutter.
‘Ugh!’ Molly copies me. I need to be careful what I say and do around her. She’s in the mimicking stage.
I bite my thumbnail – a nasty habit I can cope without most times. I debate not answering as Mom’s face stares up at me. But if I don’t, she’ll just call back and then call the police if I don’t pick up that time.
‘Hello?’ I put the phone on speaker as I slip into the driver’s seat. My car is relatively new, a gift from my father on my sixteenth. Probably hoping I’d forget that he wasn’t there most of my life. I didn’t forget, but I accepted the car all the same.
‘Juliet, dear.’ Mom’s voice fills the car and I’m immediately on edge because she’s using her extra-nice tone. ‘I need you to come by the office.’
I pull out of the driveway, Molly singing a song from her favorite cartoon at full volume.
‘Sorry, Mom, I can’t hear you. I’m taking Molly to school.
’ I nestle my face into my knitted scarf.
The air is crisp this morning, the windows dusted with a light frost. Orange leaves are scattered on the ground, the trees shuddering with their newly empty branches, all signs the winter season is nearly here.
Mom is unfazed by my attempted sidestep. ‘I need you to come by the office before school.’
I use my arm to brush hair off my face where it escaped my ponytail. ‘I don’t have time. I’ll be late.’
I love my mom, really, but she does not take no for an answer. It’s her way or the highway. Apparently, stubborn runs in our family because I’ve been told the same about myself.
I can hear her typing on her computer – ever the multi-tasker.
I remember my ballet recital when I was seven, and I looked into the audience to see Mom on her phone instead of watching me.
That’s one of those core memories I don’t think will ever go away, no matter how much therapy I have.
At least now I understand that she works tirelessly to ensure that Anna and I are always provided for.
It’s hard to be resentful when you think of it that way.
‘I’ll write you a note to skip first period.’
I hate to miss school, but I wouldn’t put it past her to show up and have me pulled from class. No, it’s better just to get it handled now.
I sigh, giving in.
The first thing I notice when I get to Mom’s office is everyone is on their phones.
‘Finally.’ A twenty-something guy I’ve never seen before rises from his desk when I approach. ‘Ms Ripley has been waiting for you.’ I don’t miss the undertones of annoyance.
‘Sorry.’ I offer the usual platitudes we have drilled into us as girls. ‘I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ripley.’
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps typing on his phone. ‘I’m aware. I’m Brett, head intern. I’ll be interning for the duration of the show.’
Pressing my lips together, I hold in my retort. I’m pretty sure all the interns are on an equal level, but sure, Brett, you go ahead and think that. ‘Is there a problem?’ I ask, noticing the tension vibrating around the room.
‘Where to start?’ Brett rolls his shoulders. ‘First, there was the article about the top-performing dating apps and the ones that have fallen behind. Beeloved is at the bottom of the list. Couldn’t ask for worse timing.’
Mom started Beeloved fourteen years ago, after her divorce from my dad.
I was a ‘let’s-save-our-marriage’ baby, which clearly didn’t work because I was three when they split.
It was a bitter divorce. Beeloved had wild success in its first five years, but it’s taken a hit with all the new ones coming out.
I know Mom is proud of what she’s created here, but I can’t count how many times reporters have pointed to her divorces as the only reason she came up with the idea.
Like without a man, she wouldn’t have been successful.
I would hate for people to think that I only made something because of someone else.
That’s why I have decided love, and all its ick, has no place in my plans.
My stomach twists as I glance at Mom pacing in the glass-enclosed boardroom. I know she loves me and Anna, but Beeloved is her baby too. Honestly, I think she’s put more effort into raising it than she has us. Still, I don’t want it to fail. Good thing I was never the jealous type.
‘Then,’ Brett continues, stalking toward the boardroom, ‘our lead dropped out.’
‘Monique?’ My shoulders tense up as I analyze the situation. ‘Really? But she was so excited to be the star.’
‘Cold feet.’ I can tell Brett doesn’t actually know the reason Beeloved just lost the star of their upcoming reality dating show. But guys like him like everyone to think they’re in the loop. I make a mental note to ask Mom for all the details later.
The youth version of Beeloved is launching in the new year and to create buzz they’re airing a reality dating show based on its algorithm.
It’s all Mom has been able to talk about.
She came up with the idea after she and husband number four split.
When she can’t find love for herself, she gets it for others.
I use the word love generously. Everyone knows that’s not what these apps are for.
Every seat in the conference room is full, along with interns standing by the windows, tablets in hand.
This production isn’t network TV big, but Mom and the team scored a significant investor, giving them a healthy budget to work with.
The office has swelled with the addition of ten interns and the twenty production team members they hired to work alongside the Beeloved crew for the filming.
Someone offers me their seat and I slide into a chair at the back of the boardroom while Mom stands at the front.
She’s dressed in her usual business attire, a trouser suit in one of several varying colors.
Today, it’s a deep red – war mode. Her outfits are like a mood ring for everyone to see.
She has the same dark hair as me, but hers is cut into a short bob.
‘OK, everyone, I know we’ve had some hurdles to overcome this morning.
But good news first: I’m happy to say we’re in the final stages of contract negotiations with Fairytale Gardens, just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.
This location is really going to make our show stand out.
How many dating shows have you seen set at a theme park? ’
She pauses, then adds, ‘I know some of you voiced concerns about the negative press they received last summer, but I assure you, we did extensive market research and concluded that public opinion has shifted favorably.’
Everyone smiles and murmurs their agreement.
I frown in confusion, still unsure why I needed to be here. It certainly isn’t to give my praise for a theme park. I’ve never even set foot in the place. Which Mom might say is a lie, but technically, when she brought me there, I was a baby in a stroller, so my feet never touched the ground.
When she told me this was the venue they chose for the show, I was shocked. Sure, at one point in time this place held a spot in her heart. It’s where my parents had their first date. But that marriage ended terribly, so why would she want a daily reminder shoved in her face?
Once again, I do not get the psychosis love inflicts people with.
‘Now to the less great news,’ Mom continues.
‘I can confirm Monique will no longer be starring in the show. I know this is extremely last minute, leaving us little time to find a replacement.’ I watch the familiar lines of stress appear around Mom’s lips before they disappear.
‘But, as with love, sometimes serendipitous things happen.’ She glances at me with a smile.
I stiffen in my seat, fingers digging into my bag.
I don’t like where this is going. If dating apps are fake, reality shows are on an entirely new level.
Everybody knows those people just want to get famous.
So, why am I here? She probably wants me to get kids from school to volunteer to be contestants.
I can’t think of anything more mortifying than asking my peers if they want to be on a reality show. I already get enough crap when they find out my mom owns Beeloved.
I shrink into my seat, hoping she’ll just forget about me. She’s done it plenty of times before.
‘Juliet …’ My mother smiles at me. ‘I want you to step in as our star.’