“What the fuck kind of man are you?” I said to the mirror, startling the shit out of myself, so I left the bathroom in a hurry before my reflection became even more chatty than my shower gel and decided to tell me exactly what kind of person I was.
Erin called me when I was dressed and ready to leave, and for a brief moment, I considered not answering the call, but she’d only keep calling. My time with Erin was coming to an end. I was a commodity selling products, and it was wearing me down and making me rich all at the same time. How did I balance that?
“Justin, KlecksoCream isn’t happy with their ROI. I need at least two more sound bites mentioning their name.”
She didn’t even bother with a hello, just jumped straight in there with the criticism that I wasn’t doing my job right. I cringed as she carried on, giving me numbers on comments, likes, and a new analysis on my Instagram profile, which had dramatically dipped to the sixteen to eighteen demographics, which wasn’t our target market at all.
“It’s not good, Justin.”
“Why would sixteen-year-olds want to follow me?”
“It’s the baking thing,” she dismissed what I loved doing with those casual words. “Everyone is doing it now, but sixteen-year-olds don’t have the expendable income to pay you in order for you to pay the team so that demographic is a no-go.”
And there we had it. The team. Six people relied on me, took salaries from my income, and they worked tirelessly to promote Brand Justin.
“What if we introduce a line of something that would reach sixteen-year-olds.”
She snorted a laugh. “Do you want to lose your biggest sponsors? Genryn Whiskey for a start? Or Totallin Vodka?”
“Maybe I should rethink my brand?” Shit. Had I really said that out loud? Why would I even tell Erin what had been spiraling around in my thoughts for the past few weeks?
Erin sighed. “Seriously, Justin, I’m cool with that. If you genuinely want to change your focus, then as soon as the competition is over, we’ll sit down and strategize.”
“Really?” Hope flared in my chest. Could I really do other things and still earn the kinds of money I was pulling in right now?
“If that’s what you want, then that is what we’ll provide. Although I can’t imagine my team is the right one for you should you want to refocus your market… ” She left the words dangling as if it was a warning. I was twenty-five, so why did I suddenly feel like a kid who’d been told that he couldn’t be a firefighter, or a teacher, or any one of a million things kids are told they can’t do.
“Okay.”
“But you’d be okay on your own, Justin. I’m sure.” Her voice took on that tone I’d grown to hate, the one that implied I didn’t know best at all. The one a mom might use as her son stood on a garage roof with cardboard wings saying he wanted to fly. At least, a mom might try to catch their child, but Erin wasn’t a mom. She only cared about the bottom line because that is what I paid her for.
What is wrong with my head tonight? I’m lost in analogy hell. I don’t have a mom. I was never going to be a firefighter or a teacher, and I certainly never tried to fly.
“… and we’re good at it, okay?”
I had no idea what she’d been saying, so I just replied with an “okay.”
“Now, in summary, I need more sex, would it hurt to take a shirt off?” she asked.
“It’s eight below here right now, and it’s snowing,” I countered.
“It’s not snowing in your room, Justin,” she explained patiently, with her familiar punctuation of using my name as a kind of warning. She kept me in line. I needed that, otherwise I wouldn’t be where I am today. “Think product placement, and for the love of all that’s holy, can you please send me something for KlecksoCream.”
“KlecksoCream would make great snow for my gingerbread house,” I offered in reconciliation.
“See? Send me your thoughts, take off your shirt, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I had good bakes today—”
“Sorry, I have a call on the other line.”
The phone went dead, no dial tone like in the movies, just absolute silence, and I stared at the screen for the longest time, mesmerized by the moving colors of the lock screen as it slipped out of use. Finally, I hid the cell in my jacket pocket, stood up, stretched tall, and cracked my neck.
“Showtime.”
Dinner was interesting. Clare sulked over her steak. Ivan and Kristen disappeared immediately after the dessert, Shauna never even showed, and Brody was blatantly weirded out by me. I could tell when I glanced at him, he would pretend not to see me, staring anywhere but at me, and even though he chatted to Ivan for a while, he was quiet. I shuffled in my seat ready to make my excuses but Clare beat me to it, slamming her hand down on the table, just to let us know she was pissed, and then she stormed off.
“Hashtag where is Clare,” I joked, hoping Brody would smile.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, which was a shit response. We were here, sharing an awkward silence, and I didn’t like silences. I had to fill them, so I needed to think of a safe subject. If I was talking, then I could entertain people, and I might even be the life and soul of the party, then everyone will love me.
“How do you think today went?” I asked all kinds of casual as I sipped water.
“Good,” he finally glanced at me. “You?”
“As good as can be expected.”
“Says the baking Instagram genius.”
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. I need to go.” He left, and then it was only me at the table, signing for the cost of the meal which would be covered by Flexelnet, the company creating the show. Going back to my room, I grabbed my coat and went outside, I told myself it was just for a walk, but I kind of wanted to check in on Jeremy and see if he needed his carrot replacing or his scarf retying.
Before I got anywhere near Jeremy, I spotted Shauna. She hadn’t seen me, and I could have turned and gone the other way only she was sitting on a bench, head in her hands. No doubt she didn’t expect anyone to be out here in the snow and cold at this time of the night. She probably wanted privacy, but could I really leave her there like this? Her quiet vulnerability somehow called to me and made my heart ache because she seemed so sad. Maybe lonely? Maybe she needed a friend right now.
“Hey, Shauna.” I tried to be as gentle as I could, but she jumped, dashing away tears and staring at me with wide eyes. She’d been crying again. Poor woman was upset, and I wanted to help.
“Justin, hi,” she managed.
“Okay if I sit?” The bench was sheltered by a log roof that only let the smallest dusting of snow inside. She brushed at that snow with her glove, and I took that as a yes. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m just… it’s too much.”
This seemed like a deeper thing than just being overwhelmed. “Do you want to find a quiet corner inside and talk.”
“Can we just stay here?” Even though it was cold as hell out here I wasn’t going to go inside and leave her.
“Okay, of course.”
“I don’t think I can do this, Justin.”