“She’s busy. I can try to answer,” Abby said. “Did you see that viral video of the couple caught on the Jumbotron at the Coldplay concert?”
“Didn’t everyone?” Ricki said. “It was the worst way to be caught cheating—ever.”
“Agreed. Well, there were tons of creators who stitched that video, showing how the couple should have handled themselves. Basically, mocking them. Well, Stacy did the same with Cyn’s video, and it was horrible.”
“It got worse this morning.” Blythe set her phone down. “All the copycats followed, stitching more videos of Cyn’s original one.”
“You can’t get through to her?” Abby’s insides were shaky. This was why she hated the content creation game. Eventually, someone got burned.
Blythe shook her head. “I’ve messaged her. Emailed her. Texted her.”
“Did you try to call her?” Ricki asked.
“Nobody does that.”
“In this case, maybe you should,” Ricki said, pointing at Blythe’s phone where Cyn continued to rage.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Abby added.
Blythe picked up the phone and put it to her ear. “Hey, Cyn. It’s Blythe. The Dykonic One. Call me when you get the chance or message me back. I’m worried about you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
Blythe’s complexion was ashen after she’d finished leaving the message. She dropped her cellphone onto the table.
Cyn had pulled off her shirt. In only her bra, she’d stepped back and was turning from side to side. “So you think this is fat, bitches?” She flipped off the camera.
“Jesus,” Blythe said. “One fuck-up can blow everything up.”
“I keep telling you, social media is brutal—relentless,” Ricki said.
The deep line etched on Blythe’s forehead lessened. “She can turn this around. Recover and come out the victor. Imagine the exposure she’s getting.”
Abby put her hand on Blythe’s. “I know you say no engagement is bad engagement, but I think sometimes it is when it isn’t healthy.”
“Nah. The best content creators have rhinoceros hide for skin. Nothing can penetrate.”
“No offense, but I wonder if Cyn’s personality lends itself to letting things roll off her back,” Ricki said. “Hasn’t she struggled with mental health before?”
Blythe shrugged, but the worry line reappeared on her forehead. “Fuck this.” Blythe snatched her phone off the table, poked the screen with her finger, and then brought it to her ear. “Damn it, Cyn, get off live and answer me.”
After Blythe finished leaving her message, she put her cellphone back on the table. Her hand shook. Abby met Ricki’s gaze, and Ricki tilted her head at Blythe’s trembling hand.
Before Abby could react, Blythe picked up her phone again and began typing. When another voice mixed with Cyn’s, Blythe set her phone down so they could see the screen.
A woman who looked a lot like Cyn entered the picture. She grabbed Cyn and wrapped her in a bear hug. For several minutes, they watched with rapt attention until the woman’s face filled the screen. Her expression was a mixture of pain and anger.
“I’m Cyndy’s sister. Thank you to her friends that contacted me about what was going on. I’m going to end this live feed, but I want to assure Cyn’s friends that she’ll get the help she needs.”
Then the video ended.
Abby put her hand on top of Blythe’s arm and glanced up at Ricki. “Why don’t we take a walk? Clear our heads so we can think better.” She usedwe,hoping to soften the message since it wasn’t Abby or Ricki who needed to clear their heads.
Blythe waved her phone. “But what if Cyn calls?”
Abby held out her hand. “How about you give it to me? I can hang on to it while we walk.”
Blythe stared at her phone before she turned it over to Abby and then she dropped her head in her hands.
“I can carry it if you’d like me to,” Ricki said.
