Page 20 of Just the Tipsy
“Mr. Stryker — who, by the way, is always Mr. Stryker, mostly to distinguish him from Wes and Waylon’s brother John David — insists on calling him the brand ambassador. Mostly we just snap photos of him for social media and take him to events.”
“Ehn, I guess that’s being a brand ambassador in his own way.” I pet his big head, then pull my phone out of my bag. “Can I go ahead and take a photo of him?”
“Yeah, go for it.”
I kneel down and snap a few photos of Big Bubba. The lighting’s not great, but I can fix it in editing.
The door Bubba was waiting in front of opens and Bubba starts doing the cutest little dance. A huge man steps out with amuch smaller man, and I immediately recognize the larger man from the photos at Waylon’s house — one of his other brothers. John David, I’m assuming. Build-wise, he looks more like Waylon than Wes, thick with muscle. Throw in the dark beard and his serious expression, and I feel like getting out of his way.
The man he’s with peels off to go down the hallway, and John David faces us while he pets Big Bubba. He raises an eyebrow at me, likewho the hell are you?which is a sharp contrast from how hard he’s loving on the dog.
“JD, this is Bianca. Our new social media coordinator,” Rose says. John David blinks. “Waylon’s girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” John David’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when?”
“It’s pretty new. I just moved here,” I say, trying not to fidget.
“You must have missed each other at the engagement party, but she was there,” Rose adds.
“Mm.” John David stands up and accepts Big Bubba’s stuffed toy. “I see. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
He walks away without another word, Big Bubba trailing behind him.
“Don’t worry, he looks scarier than he actually is,” Rose says, squeezing my upper arm.
So he’s a fellow ‘this is just my face and I don’t hate your guts’ person. “I understand that completely.”
“C’mon, let’s go over some stuff for the job. Then we have somewhere to be.”
She leads me back to her office, passing a few other people in cubicles. Her office space is small, but cozy, with a half-alive plant and a few knickknacks on it.
She walks me through the basics, like their email system and all of the platforms they’re on, along with their general strategy (which isn’t really a strategy — it’s just posting whenever). Thephotos they’ve been posting have been okay, but nothing special. Not a ton of engagement either.
At least it can only go up from here. All those free dinners at trendy restaurants in exchange for Instagram posts will actually come in handy for taking pictures of drinks.
“So, first assignment,” Rose says, putting her computer to sleep. “We’re going down to the veterinary clinic to take some photos. Stryker Liquors has always sponsored health treatments for animals in foster care as a part of their charity arm, but now they’re the biggest sponsor of this new animal shelter they’re building. I’m not sure if Waylon has mentioned it or if you know about it.”
“Oh, yeah.” It’s technically not a lie since I’ve at least seen the building. I tuck my notebook back into my bag.
“Waylon will tell you more about it.” She stands up and brushes her braids over her shoulder. “And Delia will be there too to discuss it and do a little promo to get donations and for the booth the shelter will have at the Jepsen Festival — it’s basically a carnival that Jepsen holds every year and it’s coming up. And we’ll need some social media at that event too.”
I follow her out to her car and hop into the passenger seat. When she turns on the car, the sound of one of my mom’s old songs comes streaming through the speakers.
“You look like her, by the way,” Rose says, gesturing to the speakers. “Miss G.”
I brace myself — I heavily favor my mom and people freak out a little bit when they hear.
“She’s my mom,” I say, holding in a sigh.
“For real?” Rose looks at me, wide-eyed. “That’s crazy.”
“Yeah. She’s mostly normal. Or as normal as she can be. She does a lot of stuff behind the scenes with my dad these days. Both of them have always been homebodies anyway so taking on that kind of role suits her.” I tug at the ends of my curls, hopingshe doesn’t dig deeper. People always treat me differently once they know, even though Mom isn’t in the public eye as much these days.
“Are you tired of this song, then?” Rose asks with a smile, her finger hovering over the button to the next song.
“Kind of, yeah.” I laugh. She switches to the next song. “Thanks. No one’s ever asked me that. Usually it ends up being a listening party for all her songs, assuming the other person doesn’t have famous parents too.”
