“You have my number now,” I said. “I have to work on Thursday, but I have Wednesday off if you want to make reservations. Just let me know where, and I’ll be there.”
“Sounds good. See you, Macy.”
His face faded from the screen and I sat down hard on my bed. On a scale of one to ten, I had no idea how gross this made me. We were lying. For clicks and retweets and blog hits and subscribers. The whole thing was deeply disturbing. But Eric and I both had things we wanted, and could maybe get with whatever happened between us.
Thanks to Jessica, I had nothing left to lose, and I was tired of letting her and Eric reap all the viral benefits. They got spots on the Today show, while I spent my nights in an anxiety-soaked black hole, scrolling through Twitter in incognito mode and absorbing every nasty comment.
I was so done with that.
After I tossed my phone on my bed, I put on a blue shirt to complement my eyes—light enough to bring out the glow of my summer tan, plain enough to avoid ending up on any more Ugly Clothes of Twitter lists. I took an hour getting ready, fixing my hair until soft blond curls framed my face, then did my makeup. Smoky eye shadow and bright red lips. I could’ve been a darling or a demon, and I honestly didn’t care either way.
In front of my green wall, I smiled at my phone, already recording from my makeshift pedestal. A smile big enough to show all my teeth. “I’ve been thinking about you for days, Eric. Can’t wait to see you soon.”
I adjusted the graphics, double-checked to make sure all of my videos were monetized, uploaded it onto YouTube, and then flipped back over to Twitter.
@baseballbabe2020: Making dinner plans for me and a beautiful lady;) #baseballbabe #flyballgirl #datenight
I clicked on the link to tweet. Even if my real name and real life were out there, playing this game with Eric wasn’t a whole lot different from donning my Misty Morning persona. This was just a different type of wig, a different costume.
@MacyAtTheMovies: Can’t wait to find out what @baseballbabe2020 has planned for Wednesday <3 #DateNight #FlyBallGirl #BaseballBabe
I linked the YouTube video in my tweet, and then pulled my quilt over my head.
What the hell had I just gotten myself into?
CHAPTER
NINE
THE COMMENTS I’D SCROLLED through in the middle of the night still crawled beneath my skin, but I wouldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable again. I wouldn’t let another Jared put me down. Never again would I scrape quarters off the sidewalk or watch the Bees sell a piece of their soul for beef or see my mom soaking her feet in salt water after working a double just to keep the lights on. I’d been given a way out, and I was going to make the most of it.
@MacyAtTheMovies: BTW, I saw your @TODAYshow interview, @baseballbabe2020, and you looked just as cute as you did at the game #BaseballBabe
I closed Twitter, then went down to the basement. We still had a broken dryer, and the money from my latest views wouldn’t come in for another month. I’d just brought up the jams and canned tomatoes to bring over to Elise’s, when there was a knock. We weren’t expecting company.
I opened the door and a squat man with wire-rimmed glasses shoved his phone at me. “Fly Ball Girl, what’s the status on your relationship with Baseball Babe? Did you contact him because you saw him on TV? Are you really planning a date together?”
Panic seized my lungs. I slammed the door and locked it. And leaned against it for extra reinforcement. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d locked our door. He knocked again, and the sound pounded between my temples. How did he find out where I lived? I never posted my address online. Not even on the accounts I’d kept separate from R3ntal Wor1d.
I looked out the peephole. He wasn’t from around here. I would’ve recognized his face. He didn’t look like a reporter, and there was no news van, no real camera. He just had his shitty phone. A random stranger. Who showed up at my house because of Jessica Banks.
“Macy, what’s going on?” Gram came down the hall, holding an electric flyswatter.
“There’s a man at the door.” I could hardly talk, hardly draw a breath. “I don’t know him. He recorded me and asked me questions.”
“Step aside.” Her voice reminded me of thunder, the way clouds would boil and roll before unleashing cracks of lightning. Her expression pinched tight, deepening the lines in her face.
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t you mind.” I’d never seen Gram so mad, and her mood was permanently set on mad. If yesterday’s evening news story was a six, she was now at an eleven. “Go on back to the dining room with the Bees.”
I would do no such thing. “You’re not going out there.”
“This is my property and I’m a grown woman. I’ll do what I want.” Before I could grab her arm, she flung open the door and marched outside.
The man had his phone raised, like he was taking pictures of our house. As soon as he caught sight of Gram, he turned his phone on her, and she swung the flyswatter right at his face. His scream split the air, and I winced at the angry crisscross pattern already taking shape on his right cheek from the electric shock.
“Get off my lawn.” Gram hit him with the flyswatter. “Get out of my town.” He tried to block her, and got another shock as the flyswatter zapped his hands. “And don’t you dare come near my granddaughter again.” The man ran, and Gram chased him all the way to the end of the driveway, hitting him on the back of the head. The electric flyswatter zinged as it singed his hair.
“What the hell?” Paxton stopped a few feet from the edge of our property. Quilting patterns fell from his arms and crinkled like autumn leaves across our dead lawn.
“Um. Small issue. No big deal.” I glanced from him to Gram, who was still after the stranger with her flyswatter. To my horror, I noticed a second person with the guy—a woman who had recorded the entire incident.
She swung her phone toward me. Paxton froze. All the color drained from his face, his lips turning to a chalky blush. He shook so hard, the single quilting pattern he’d held on to rattled like a flag in a windstorm. I blocked her view of Paxton and charged. Her eyes widened as her phone arm dropped. Both the man and woman dashed into a car parked on the other side of the street. Their tires squealed against the pavement as they drove away.
I turned around to check in with Paxton, and only caught sight of his back as he ran for the cover of the trees. He tripped over a root and went sprawling across the leafy wooded floor. Before I could take a single step forward to ask if he was okay, he was on his feet again and gone through a thick cluster of brush.
Gram chuckled as she scooped quilting patterns off our yard. “You sure can send them running. Still want to put that sex ad on the Craigslist?”
“Har, har.” I helped her gather up the rest of the scattered papers. “Was the flyswatter really necessary?”
Gram straightened her blouse, swept back her short gray hair, and gave me a grim nod as she headed into the house. “They need to learn they can’t invade other people’s privacy.”
I followed her in, shutting and locking the door behind me. “Did you see that woman with him? She was recording too. They’re going to post that video all over the Internet.”