Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Naomi
F ran texted Avery as we were finishing up at Raft, so by the time we reach the beach bar, we’re a crowd of couples.
Only Sam and I aren’t holding hands.
He settles himself a few seats away on the bench at the long, wooden table and orders a soda water when it’s his turn.
I should probably do the same. Thirteen courses with wine pairings, no matter how small, is not a normal night of drinking for me and I’m feeling a little fuzzy.
The girls seem to sense that and take full advantage, pouncing on me as soon as the server drops off our drinks.
“Okay, spill it. What do you have to do to get shunned from the internet?”
I take a long sip from my sangria, trying to figure out where to start.
People don’t understand what I do, and more often than not, when I start explaining it, all they do is look for ways to make fun or belittle my work.
I get it. I live fabulously and document the whole thing in pictures and sassy captions for my seven hundred and ninety thousand followers, who then take my advice and buy things. It’s not a normal job. But I love it.
At least I did.
Back when I was on top of the world, fielding message after message in group chats with other mid-sized influencers and even some newbies who ate up my advice like candy.
Back when just the sight of me walking through the door would have small restaurant owners and boutique clothing store managers falling all over themselves to bring me taco spreads or their best new styles.
Back when I was on the invite list for every event in Austin, big or small, and had to prioritize my own self-care time rather than overbooking myself—a decision making process that was content gold for my followers, who often chimed in to help me choose.
It’s wild to think that life was mine less than two weeks ago.
I glance around at the moonlit beach, the tiki torches, and the smiling faces of my older brother’s friends. Here goes nothing.
“Well, I don’t know how much you know about influencer culture, but the gist of it is that I have followers on my platforms who trust me to bring them the best of everything in Austin and beyond and who are willing to go places or buy things based solely on my recommendation. It’s a lifestyle channel, so I’m selling my own lifestyle. My life, my looks, and my habits are the product. And people want what I’m selling. Or, they did anyway.”
But will they still? That’s the question. The one I don’t add to my little spiel about what I do. Because in the end, it was my community of fellow influencers that took me down, not my followers.
My sweet, loyal followers, who posted so many lovely, supportive comments. Most of which I didn’t get to read before I had to shut off commenting on my recent posts due to trolling.
Trolling by my friends.
“I think I get that. We all have one of those people who we follow and would buy anything they wear or eat or read, right?” Fran asks.
Reina nods quickly, an encouraging smile on her lips as usual.
The guys all look like they’re about to be lined up and shot.
I can’t help but smile at their reactions. I’ve learned over the years to stay positive in the face of confusion and disapproval. It’s the only reason I’m sitting here right now, considering myself on a break, rather than straight-up fired from my channel.
“One of the things I do a few times a year is rep a big brand who has a launch or some kind of big product promotion. I’ve done content spreads for Sephora, Hilton Hotels, and Uber. Influencer marketing is a huge new area of interest for companies because it’s essentially one friend recommending something to another, and people trust that way more than ads the company makes.”
“But they pay you to post them?” Sam asks.
I smile over at him. “Oh, yeah. They pay a ton for posts where I use their service or stay in their hotel and tell my followers how great it is. For Sephora I got a full in-store makeover and was sent home with all the products to do mirror videos. People watch me using stuff and know they want to buy it.”
“I’ve had brands wanting me to do stuff like that. I don’t check my Instagram messages much anymore, but they’re always full of companies wanting to send me stuff to wear in pictures and whatnot,” Avery chimes in.
I nod to him. “Exactly. So, I was working on a collab with a company called PassionFly, which is one of those clothing box services where you get a package once a month put together by a stylist and get to keep the stuff you like and send back the rest. Their platform was sustainability, which is really big right now with my followers and with my demographic in general, especially in the Austin area. They source from ethical companies, use green packaging, purchase carbon offset credits for shipping?—”
“I’m sorry, carbon offset credits?” Avery asks.
“Ave, she was just getting to the good stuff. Don’t derail her. You can just google that.” Fran moans beside me.
I glance over with a smile. “It’s no problem. I can explain pretty quickly. Imagine every time a company does something that pollutes the air, like flying planes or running factories, it's like they're putting a bunch of balloons filled with bad gas into the sky. To make up for the mess, companies buy what's called ‘carbon offset credits.’ Think of these credits like eco-friendly deeds or actions somewhere else. For example, planting a forest or investing in wind farms that create clean energy. Each credit is like a promise that somewhere, an amount of pollution equal to what the company made will be taken care of, either by sucking it back out of the air or by preventing it from happening somewhere else. So, when companies buy these credits, they're basically saying, "Hey, we made some mess here, but we're helping clean up an equal amount of mess over there." It's like trying to balance the scales to keep our planet enjoyable for everyone. This way, they can work toward being more sustainable and less harmful to the environment.”
Dom laughs, and not in the friendliest way. “Sounds like you’ve rehearsed that one a few times.”
I offer him a tight-lipped smile. I’m still getting used to this guy as a fellow adult, rather than any kind of authority figure in my life, so I want to give him the benefit of the doubt here. “It’s a concept that a lot of people struggle to grasp at first, so I do find myself explaining it often.”
“It’s hard to grasp because it’s total bullshit,” he bites back.
“Anything could be looked at from alternate angles and be found lacking.” I shrug, meeting his eye at last. This guy is not going to intimidate me. Not tonight. Not with this fancy wine swirling in my veins.
“The actual “sustainable” thing to do would be to not produce the pollution in the first place. Polluting all you want over here and then buying some pollution cleanup over there is not a way to cancel out pollution. The way to cancel pollution would be to not pollute. And pay to clean up other pollution as well. Then you could call yourself sustainable and ethical and not be a complete lying shit.”
As a person who is currently canceled as fuck, I try not to flinch as he throws the word around.
Never let them see your weaknesses.
This man was one of the reasons I grew up with that as my motto.
“Well, it’s the system we have in place, and one that’s widely accepted as being good for the planet.”
“What would be good for the planet is stopping all the shipping and fast fashion in general. If people could buy things from the store in their own town and rewear the same outfit a few damn times, we?—”
Reina slides her arm though Dom’s and pulls him close, using her lips to quiet his ranting. Then she glances at me apologetically. “Sorry. My parents got us a subscription to The Atlantic for Christmas last year and somebody,” she tosses a look at Dom, “is feeling very well informed. ”
Dom huffs. “It’s true.”
“Dom, stop. She was just getting to the part about her. You can soapbox later. We want to hear Naomi’s story,” Fran cuts in.
Dom raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying.”
I jump back in, happy to be handed the floor once more. “What you’re saying isn’t totally off base, Dom. There are plenty of people who agree with you one hundred percent. But it’s the best system we have right now, and it provides funding for a lot of great projects that otherwise wouldn’t be able to exist, so we all just go with it.”
Dom looks like he has more to say about that, but he keeps quiet.
“So, PassionFly. There are a lot of these subscription clothing boxes these days, and each one needs to find their niche market in order to be viable. PassionFly went with sustainability and ethically produced clothing. It’s a great idea. Fast fashion is killing the planet, as Dom was saying. So, they got in touch with me a few months ago and it sounded like a good fit. They sent boxes of their upcoming line, and I made unboxing videos and try-on videos with the clothes. I had them all scheduled to start posting at the beginning of this month when the service was scheduled to go live.”
I glance down at my lap, smoothing my hands over my linen shorts, remembering how excited I was when I pulled a similar pair out of my first PassionFly box. All that stuff ended up at Goodwill.
“It was a big jump for me. It was my first ever large-scale company launch. Before that I was just doing sponsored content and posts for existing brands. It looked like the beginning of a long-term relationship between myself and the company, which would have been great for my channel, because everyone would get to see the new clothes before they hit the site, and I would get boxes of new clothes every month. Pretty great. On top of that, they paid really well.”
“But…” Fran leads me, feeling the climax of my story coming.
I offer her a sad smile. “But it turns out that they sent these collab invites to lots of influencers at my level and higher, and one of them saw the company and decided it was too good to be true. She started investigating and waited until the week the company launched to release her investigative series about how the company created shell clothing companies that looked small and sustainable while sourcing their clothes from sweatshops in China.”
The table waits for me to go on in expectant silence.
“She had photographs of the addresses of the so-called sustainable companies which turned out to be abandoned warehouses and vacant lots. She had pictures of the same clothes I had in my videos coming off the lines at the factories.”
I pause and think back to the most damning—and most shared—of those pics. It featured a girl who couldn’t be more than ten years old piling clothes into boxes with a bloody hand wrapped in a towel and rubber banded.
When that picture first hit my inbox, I was wearing the same sweater the poor kid was packaging.
“What does that have to do with you, though? I get that it’s bad for the company, but it’s not your company.” Reina quickly comes to my defense.
I nod and offer her a sad smile. “I spent the three days she was posting horrific pictures and stories from sweatshops posting videos of myself excitedly opening and trying on the clothes. Recommending that my followers get a subscription right away. A lot of them did, and when it all came out, they were pissed at me. The company folded and disappeared. No one got any kind of refund. They wanted my blood to make up for their lost money.”
“Brutal,” Fran says.
“The worst part is that the woman who broke the story knew. We weren’t close friends, but we ran in the same circle. She knew damn well that I’d taken on the company launch. She chose not to say anything about the piece she had to have already been investigating at that point. She just let me do my launch and then took me down.”
“Do you think it was intentional?” Reina is on the edge of her seat.
I shrug. “Probably not intentional toward me in a personal attack, but when there are people to direct blame at, and inflammatory content to share, drama spreads faster and farther on the internet. They were able to use my name and my content to fuel the fire against the company. And I was the collateral damage.”
“But people must know that it wasn’t your fault?” Reina looks like she might cry at any moment.
I wish I had something comforting to offer. “Outrage is the number one driver of content performance on socials. If you can create content that makes people feel outrage, it links into some primal part of our brains. We just have to share it. We have to tell everyone. That’s why shit like this goes viral so quickly. People love to be the first to tell everyone about a new scandal. Everyone loves a good car wreck.”
I finally look away from the rapt attention of the two women and laugh at the emotions on the faces of the guys. They range from confusion—Sam, to disbelief—Ave, to absolute disgust—Dom. All three of them are silent, mouths hanging slightly open as they consider how on earth to respond.
I jump in to save them. Or save myself from whatever they might say.
“So, anyway. That’s what happened. For the five days or so it was going down, it was pretty ugly. I had to shut off commenting on my entire channel. I hired a PR firm to handle my emails and inboxes for the time being. And my whole life is on pause while I wait to see if it’s going to blow over and I can start again, or if the trolls are just waiting for me to come back so they can shit-post again.” I finish off my drink.
“Damn,” Fran says finally and the rest of the group murmurs in agreement.
“It’s okay.” It’s not okay, and I can’t believe I made it through the whole story without crying, but I can’t stand the pity pouring off these people and raining down on my head. “It comes with the territory. I put myself out there as the face of a channel, and the internet is not a safe, friendly place. This kind of thing is always possible. I’ve seen it happen to tons of other influencers.”
My gaze falls back down to my hands, and I fiddle with my straw as I think back to all the scandals I’ve gleefully shared myself. All the times my fellow influencers were being roasted for something ridiculous and I fanned the flames instead of helping them out.
“And none of your friends stood up for you?” Reina voices my thoughts, and I cringe.
“That’s the thing about cancellation. It’s very contagious. If anyone speaks up in favor of the person being canceled, they’re immediately canceled themselves. I would never expect anyone to do something like that for me.”
Because I would never, ever, do it for them.
Avery blows out a long breath. “Wow. I had no idea how cutthroat the world of ladies trying on clothes on the internet was.”
I let out a grateful laugh as he breaks the tension. “Yeah.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?”
I look over at Sam for the first time since we sat down. His face is the picture of concern. “Just harbor me until I can go back to the real world I guess. This is just a wait and see kind of situation. I’ll post something in the next few days when my PR people tell me that the waters seem to have calmed down a bit.”
“Like an apology?” Reina asks. “I’ve seen those floating around, videos of people apologizing for saying or doing something wrong.”
I give her a sad smile. “And what were people saying about those videos?”
She cringes. “Nothing good. They’re never genuine enough or too little too late or something like that.”
I nod. “A written statement went up on my channel as soon as this all went down, but I’m probably not going to be encouraged to post a tearful apology video. Those do far more harm than good.”
“The internet is awful,” Reina says, tears brimming in her eyes now. Dom pulls her close and places a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
I have to look away from the adorable show of affection.
I could’ve used this side of him growing up in the battlefield that was our home.
“We’re happy to harbor you for as long as you need,” Sam offers.
I look back at him, and I think we share a meaningful look. It might just be the drinks, though. “Thanks, Sam.”
He holds my gaze for another moment, and I definitely see something there.
Maybe this thing between us isn’t quite over?
I double down on my decision to get him alone at some point this evening so we can talk…and maybe do some other stuff.
I don’t have to wait long for my chance.
He pushes up off the bench. “I’m going to hit the gents.”
Perfect. I wait just long enough to not be suspicious and then excuse myself to the ladies room.
I’m not even out of my seat, however, before Reina is up, looping her arm through mine.
“I’ll show you the way.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure I can find it,” I protest uselessly as she leads me away from the table. “There are signs.”
“Girls gotta stick together, am I right?”
I want to like this woman so much. I do like her. She is the closest thing I have to a girlfriend right now, and I should be embracing every bit of attention she wants to give me, not trying to lose her around every corner.
By the time we make it back to the table, Sam’s already in his seat.
I’m just scheming how to hotwire a golf cart and follow him home when the party starts breaking up. We crowd into the small bar area while the guys settle the tab.
“You did the right thing coming here, Naomi,” Fran says, leaning tipsily against the bar. “This island is the ultimate refuge. And if you want to put those content creation skills to good use, we’ve got a wedding next week that would be perfect for promos for our company, Paradise Events.”
My eyebrows raise slightly at the kind-of job offer. Not that I’m looking for one, but it would be great to have something to do. “Sure. I’d love to help out.”
“Let’s talk soon, yeah?”
I nod with a smile.
“We’re going to go pull around the carts,” Avery says, kissing the top of Fran’s head. “You and Reina head up to the lobby. We’ll see you in a few.”
He and Dom disappear down the beach and around the corner of the resort.
“I’ll walk you ladies up,” Sam says, wrapping an arm around Reina’s shoulders as the group turns to head to the steps leading up between the two buildings to the streetside lobby.
They’re two steps away when I jump into action. “I’ll walk up too.”
Sam glances back at me, eyebrows raised, and I know my voice was too loud. I’m going to have to get this buzz under control if he’s going to take me seriously when I finally spill my secrets.
Even more so if I convince the guy to come up to my room.
I flash back to the field sobriety test he watched me perform for him in my living room in Austin and feel my face growing hotter.
Get it together, girl.
I hurry to catch up, falling in step alongside Fran.
“Who’s the wedding for next week?” I ask her, mainly to have some reason to be with the group, rather than excusing myself to my room just upstairs.
Her face lights up just like it did when she mentioned it earlier. She really loves this wedding stuff.
“It’s an older couple flying in from Monaco. They have serious money and want to spend it on this party. One of the things they requested was gold-plated silverware, which Avery had to fly to L.A. to pick up and then fly back to the island in a briefcase with a wrist lock.”
My jaw drops. “Oh my god. Do you still have it?”
“The case? Yeah, it’s at our house.”
“We should stage that homecoming. Avery pulling up to the resort with the case locked to his wrist. That would make such epic content.”
Fran shoots me a sly smile. “I never would have thought of that. You’re a keeper. Come by the house tomorrow morning? We have great coffee, and I’ll give you the full rundown.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be there.”
“Ride’s here,” Sam calls as Fran and I follow them into the lobby and toward the large double doors leading to the street.
“See you in the morning,” Fran says as she leaves me standing in the center of the lobby and heads toward the doors.
Sam and Reina are right behind her.
“Sleep tight,” Reina calls.
“Sam, wait.” I hadn’t meant to be so obvious, but he’s leaving with them, and I can’t let him go.
He turns to me with his head cocked to the side. “I’m going to get them settled and then head home. See you around the resort tomorrow?”
I grit my teeth. No. No, no, no. “I just…” What reason can I possibly offer to get him to stay without giving away everything in front of these women?
“Night, Naomi,” he says, opening the front doors and letting a rush of warm night air into the room.
“Sam,” I say but my voice is too quiet. He’s going to walk out of here.
“I…”
I can’t think of anything to say.
Except for the truth.
“I filmed us.”