Page 52 of Hate You Later
“Baby steps. I’m still learning.” I’m pretty sure my sister already knows more about influencer marketing than most of our social media team. “Besides, is this a birthday party or a TikTok masterclass?”
“Both,” she says with zero irony. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Okay.” I smile wryly. “I’ll try and work it in. And here I was under the impression that we were offering them the space because it was good PR for our family business and, oh yeah, because it was theright thing to do.”
“All of these things are true, Hudson,” Lilly says. “Which is why this is what we call a win/win/win.” She counts the wins off on her fingers as she says the words. “Three wins!”
“#Winning?” I offer. She scrunches up her face in response.
“Hey, you know what, Huds? Maybe you should just FaceTime me in later? My schedule is pretty light. I have a 1 p.m. English class, and I’ve already seen the movie version ofHoles. I could take an extended bio break.”
“How about I text you if I have any questions,” I say, firmly.
One of her friends from the bench approaches, gesturing urgently. Lilly frowns, then turns back to me, distracted.
“I gotta go. See you next Saturday! Bye, Hudson!”
I don’t even have time to respond before she hangs up. And before I can move, Oliver jumps into my lap, pinning me down on the chaise with his preternatural, human-immobilizing cat powers. I
use my time as a hostage to learn more about Xander Starr.
There’s a brief bio and a photo on the Pawsome Mobile Grooming site. I search for the resemblance to Georgia. They share the same green eyes, but that is about it. While Georgia has fair skin, Xander’s skin is dark. Georgia is tiny and curvy, Xander is tall and lean. Her hair is black and tousled. His hair in the photo is bleached blond. He looks younger than her. Early twenties?
I click through to his TikTok account next, watching one video after another. The creative transformations he does really are incredible, and I love how he shares pet care tips, personal stories, fun facts, and statistics in every video. Watching these is addictive. Before I know it, a half hour has passed. Honestly, that guy actually could teach a masterclass on social media. I kind of wish he was the one moderating the Petfluencer Challenge I’m doing with Cookie.
But if he was, I might not have been partnered with her.
I’m still thinking about her owner’s tattoo and our cliché convo as I get in the shower.
georgia
Canyou get a hangover from three large glasses of wine? The answer is yes, when you drink cheap, boxed wine and you are as much of a lightweight as me.
I awake facedown on the couch, cheek covered in slobber sauce. Cookie is licking me and nudging me with her nose.
“Back off, Cookie. It’s Friday,” I mumble into a throw pillow.
The shop is closed on Fridays. It’s my only day to sleep in. Fridays are also my days to run errands, clean the house, go to the doctor, and do other important things like … retrieve my car from the impound lot.
The previous day’s drama creeps in like a slow tide, bathing my brain with bad news as I wake. I swipe my hand around the coffee table to find my phone and come up empty-handed and sore. Oh yeah. That’s right. Injured hand. No phone.
Awareness is overrated.
Sitting up, clutching my head, I locate the laptop on the floor, leaning against the couch. It’s resting next to my mug, which has dried spaghetti sauce clinging to the inside. A few fossilized Os are still sticking to the spoon.
My adulting game is not so strong today, I acknowledge as I look up the number for the impound lot.
There’s no way I’m making it through the day without a cell phone. I go to the kitchen and rummage through the drawers till I find what I’m looking for.
Mom’s old phone. I wrap my hand around the cold, metal square, feeling the squeeze in my heart. Holding her phone reminds me there’s no way to call her and there never will be. Despite this fact, the phone lights up the minute I plug it in and starts charging. As if it hasn’t sat in a drawer for two years, untouched.
Xander and I always teased Mom about her clunky, old flip phone. We’d even bought her a smartphone for Mother’s Day, but she’d traded it back in for something simpler.
I unzip the bag of rice holding my phone, crack the case, and extract my SIM card. Miraculously, the SIM card works in my mother’s old phone.
I feel quite victorious until I snap a couple photos and review them. Grainy. Out of focus. Truly bad. This is never going to work for the Petfluencer Challenge. What am I going to tell Oliver?
Perhaps Xander or Kenna will let me use their phone for the challenge if I ask them? I could take the photos of Cookie while they’re in the shop and email them to myself. I put that idea on the back burner to percolate for now. Maybe it would be okay to ask for a little bit of help? Maybe just this once.
