Page 21 of Own the Eights
“What are those?” she asked.
Bobby picked up an iPad from the table and tapped a few icons. “See, sixty-nine percent of your followers are the same. Georgie, while you started out with a mostly female following, you’ve been steadily adding men. And Jordan, you’re just the opposite. You started with a predominantly male following and have taken on quite a few female subscribers.”
“Hold on!” Jordan exclaimed. “Sixty-nine percent of my followers also follow the Own the Eights blog?”
“Numbers don’t lie,” Bobby answered, showing them a screen packed with data and metrics.
Georgie sat back, grateful for the overstuffed cushion currently keeping her upright. How could that be? How could her loyal Own the Eights followers also subscribe to a blog as shallow and vapid as the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset?
“They just do,” Hector answered, biting back a grin.
Mortified, she glanced around the room. “Did I just say that aloud?”
“Every vapid word,” Jordan shot back. The color had returned to his face, now with a slightly pink hue to his perfect cheekbones.
“So, that’s it? Georgie and I complete a series of challenges together for the next few weeks?” Jordan asked.
It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she’d endured worse. Way worse. And she knew her blog and understood her followers. They’d be behind her all the way, wouldn’t they? Or would they back Jordan?
“Not quite. We do have a little twist up our sleeves,” Hector answered, a curious glint in his eyes as the opaque doors to the office opened and in walked the life-sized version of Barbie and Ken.
If Jordan was perfection, these individuals were perfection version 2.0.
Hector waved the pair over. “This, Georgie and Jordan, is your competition.”
4
Jordan
Holy hell! The Dannies from the DannyLyfe blog had arrived.
Yes, that’slifespelled with aY.L-y-f-e.
Jordan hardened his features. While Georgie’s blog, with her meandering walks and rah-rah, girl power posts were mind-numbing—a few had popped up in his newsfeed, and he may have read one or two—the Dannies were exponentially worse. A brother and sister team, Daniel and Danielle, who blogged on the site and preached pseudoscience and pushed their own line of supplements, the Dannies were not only reckless, they were dangerous.
And unfortunately, they were all over CityBeat, racking up almost one hundred thousand followers more than he had.
“Sorry, we’re late. We just finished running a marathon,” Danielle said with every blond hair on her head perfectly in place.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t about to kowtow to these two. The blond-haired blue-eyed duo spouted healthy living and relationship tips, but everything about them screamed plastic. From her have-to-be-fake tits to his obvious calf implants to their Botox fresh faces, there was no way their healthy glow came from anything other than one hell of a chemical peel.
“I hadn’t heard of any marathons scheduled in the city today,” he remarked coolly.
Daniel met his gaze. “It wasn’t a race. That’s just our level of commitment to fitness. Our followers appreciate our dedication.”
“And then there was the kitten,” Danielle added, swishing her blond ponytail over her shoulder.
“What about a kitten?” Georgie asked.
Ah shit! He couldn’t have Georgie falling under the Dannies’ spell.
As if on cue, one tear trailed down Danielle’s cheek. “It was in the middle of the road about to be decimated by a truck when Daniel sprinted into traffic and rescued it.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Georgie replied. He glanced over at her. Was she about to cry?
“And then we had to take the little guy to a vet to make sure he was okay,” Daniel continued.
Georgie gasped. “And was he all right?”
