Chapter 7
LYSSA
“Am I hallucinating? Tell me I’m hallucinating. You’re where ?”
Caroline’s glamorously made-up face filled my phone screen, her eyes wide and incredulous.
Her bubble-gum pink hair was tucked under the satin scarf she used when she set her hair in pin curls, which meant she had a show tonight.
I hoped it was her sexy mechanic act—that was my favorite of all her routines.
She’d strip off her boiler suit and gyrate greasily over one lucky volunteer.
I’d filmed this act once and it was still one of my best performing videos.
Even my archnemesis Danilla De’Angerous hadn’t been able to replicate the success of that video, and she ripped off all my other top performing content.
“I’m sitting on the fence in the field behind Mike’s garage.” I panned my phone and showed her.
I’d come outside to show Mini M to my followers, but he was studiously ignoring me. The harder I tried to entice him over, the more he ignored me. Kind of like his dad.
“You really are in Aotearoa? I half thought Mike was joking.”
“Mm hmm.” I tried for nonchalance. “I think I mentioned this in a text or something …?”
We both knew this was a lie.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me you were going to get on a flight and fly to my hometown? Honestly, Lyssa, what were you thinking? What about Root Beer?”
“Oh yeah!” I snapped my fingers. “I need to talk to you about him?—”
Caroline cut me off with a gasp. “You left Root Beer without food ? Lyssa, it’s been days . You should have asked me to look after him! You should have answered my calls! You can’t take impromptu vacations when you have an animal you’re responsible for!”
I was stunned into silence.
My best friend honestly thought I would leave my cat without food or water while I flew to another country.
Caroline often acted like she was my minder and I was a helpless eccentric.
I didn’t usually mind. It was nice to be coddled.
I even played into it. Sometimes she was impatient with me—the same way that everyone who enjoyed object permanence and the ability to finish a thought without a new thought interrupting it were with those of us who lacked those happy abilities.
Such was the burden of being a spicy-brained queen.
But Caroline loved me and said so often, which made me feel special and precious.
Except today I was discovering she thought I was ditzy enough to kill my cat.
Hurt flattened my voice. “Root Beer is staying with Marguerite. She runs a pet sitting business in our neighborhood—I guess my neighborhood since you moved—and has looked after him a couple times before. He likes her. I was just going to ask if you could go and visit him sometimes. He misses you, and as much as he likes Marguerite, I think having his godmother stop by and give him kisses would be good.”
“Oh.” Caroline looked shamefaced. “Yes, of course. I leaped to conclusions.”
“Yes.” I pouted, hoping for some coddling.
“Lyssa, sweet honey bee, I’m worried about you.”
Recently, Caroline and I had agreed that extravagant nicknames would be our thing. Hearing one from her lips, I immediately felt better.
“I’m fine, thank you, Caroline, my sweet Cap’n Crunch of burlesque.”
“I don’t believe you. Lyssa, what’s going on? Tell me.”
Picking at a run in my pink polka-dot tights, I hesitated. It wasn’t possible to put this conversation off any longer, but trying to put it into words made my throat ache.
“I didn’t tell you much about why my internship ended, did I?”
“You know you didn’t. Whenever I asked, you changed the subject.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“ Lyssa .”
“What?”
“Just spit it out. I won’t judge.”
People always said that. Right before they judged.
“Do you remember me talking about the head of my department, Paul?”
Caroline made a noise in her throat which was both confirmation and suspicion.
I’d deliberately not told her about mine and Paul’s budding romantic relationship. I knew she would have disapproved and said I was too naive to handle a complex dynamic like this.
Turns out, she would have been right.
“He didn’t do anything assault-y, I want to be clear. Things werenice but … well, I guess I read too much into things. Then I got angry and went in guns blazing, like I always do, instead of being calm and reasonable.” I sighed. “But you know all this. It’s in the livestream.”
Caroline looked guilty. “I haven’t watched the livestream yet,” she confessed. “Chase and I have been busy bonding with Pickles and redoing the spare room, and last week I was running my workshop for baby burlys so I haven’t been on social media at all. You know I’m not online as much as you.”
She didn’t mean to rub it in my face that her life was busy and full and mine wasn’t. But it was the result.
“It’s fine,” I said tightly. “I get that you’re busy.”
Color rose in her cheeks. “You make a lot of videos, Lyssa. Like five or six a day. It’s impossible to watch them all.”
“Oh totally, people with adoring boyfriends and thriving careers and satisfying sex lives don’t have time for their friends. I get it.”
Caroline made a hurt sound, but I hurt more .
“Let me give you the CliffsNotes.” I wiggled my fingers at the screen and over pronounced my words like this was a spill-the-tea confessional video.
The influencer accent was very specific, and it was second nature for me at this point.
“My pivot to aspirational New Zealand content is going great. Can’t cancel charisma, honey!
I’m pushing to a lot of new audiences now, and it’s slowly having a positive effect on my overall sentiment.
People really like Mini M, and the chickens too.
Look at this!” I flipped the camera to show the miniature horse in the paddock.
“Mini M is twirling on the ground! Slay!”
The tiny horse was rolling in a divot on the ground, kicking up dust clouds.
Finishing, he scrambled to his feet and shook, his skin still twitching off dirt long after his body stilled.
As I swung the camera back around to beam at an unhappy Caroline, Mini M abruptly decided I was interesting and ambled toward where I sat on the fence.
“Everything is great for me now. Perfect, you might say,” I continued. “Mike isn’t in any of my content.”
Not yet. Once I’d learned from him how to correctly do sex appeal, then I’m sure he would be besotted enough to let me video him. Then I’d make the best thirst traps my followers had ever seen.
“You know he’s not into social media.”
Again, yet .
“My brother can barely text. He emails me pictures of his chickens.”
“I know. He added me to his chicken distribution list the day after my first Holli-ford family Zoom call.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not deep, he just thinks everyone wants his chickens in their inbox.”
Caroline sighed. “I’ll talk to him about the unsolicited chick pics.”
I nearly told her not to, because I liked them. But she might find that suspicious. I was supposed to find her brother cringe and annoying in all the ways she did. That was girl code.
“Kevin was in one of my videos this morning,” I said instead. “We had coffee together, and he let me film him giving a tutorial on how to make a flat white espresso.”
Mike was working at the café today too, although he was clearly avoiding me.
Except for when his dad repeated his invite for me to come and watch Mike’s game tomorrow (game of what, I didn’t know,) and told him to show me around town after.
That made Mike grumble, but he shut up when his dad looked crestfallen.
“My dad makes an excellent flat white,” Caroline agreed, but her expression was too neutral.
“Totally. It’s nice of him to make me feel so welcome. And for Mike to let me stay with him.”
“You said it was Mike’s idea for you to go to New Zealand?” Caroline asked. I could hear a fine, silver thread of something suspicious in her voice.
“Totally.” I didn’t mention that it had been a platitude that no sensible person would have seized upon and flown for twenty-plus hours for, unless she was trying to salvage her career by posting aspirational content to make it seem like she had a loving family, enviably charming surroundings, and (tbc) a fulfilling sex life.
Mini Mike was leaning against my toes now, trying to itch.
His ears were level with my knees where I sat on the fence.
The tiny horse’s proportions were comical—everything on him was perfectly proportional, but shrunken.
I reached down and scratched his neck, and he nibbled the air.
When I stopped, he used his nose to shove my knees until I resumed.
“Chase and I were thinking of coming to New Zealand at the end of the month,” Caroline said. “If you’d told me you wanted to visit, we could have pushed our trip forward and traveled together.”
“So you two could canoodle while I pretended not to know what was happening under the airline blanket? No thanks.”
“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me, Lyssa?”
“I’m not.”
I was.
The truth was, I missed having Caroline’s full attention.
I missed her living with me—although I’d made a point of treating Chase’s Chelsea apartment like my second home, so he was never surprised to see me on his sofa when he came home.
But I missed her watching all my videos and being overly invested in looking after me. I missed my friend. I needed my friend.
“I said I was sorry I hadn’t watched your video.”
“I know.”
“How long do you plan to stay in Woodville?”
I replied vaguely. I hadn’t decided. I could stay here for up to six months without a visa if I wanted. All my income was from the States, so the Kiwi tax people couldn’t be mad at me.
“I’ll talk to Chase about our trip,” Caroline said. “and we can come sooner. I’ll get someone to cover a few of my slots at the club, and Chase can blog from anywhere. We’ll meet you in New Zealand. I just wish I was there now to show you around. Isn’t it awkward staying in my brother’s house?”