Page 29 of Hot Under the Collar

Lynne grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and opened the app. She’d silenced it days ago. But now she realized she didn’t even have to do anything for Minka’s updates to explode. O’Donnell’s followers had quadrupled in just one week. That was more regulars than had stepped foot in the bar. Possibly more than all the of-age drinkers in Autumn Ridge. But they weren’t following for the specials or pictures of trivia night. They were commenting on the kitten posts.

Lynne turned the phone over in her hands, weighing it like it might explode. She’d built her whole life around having control—over the bar, over her schedule, over who got close. Live video was the opposite of that. No edits. No take-backs. Just her face and a scrolling jury of strangers.

And Leo, right there beside her, close enough that if she turned her head she could count the gold flecks in his eyes. As if she needed another thing to overthink.

“Shit,” Lynne said, glancing over at Minka. “Guess I’m going to have to give this a try. But no merch,” she grumbled. “I can’t stand pubs that sell merch.”

“Fair. It’s easy anyway. Just sit down on the couch, and I’ll show you how to start it.” She glanced behind her. “You too, Leo. Come on.”

“Let me grab Mama for this, too. She deserves a cameo. I know some folks have asked how she’s doing.”

Surprisingly, Mama didn’t sprint from Leo’s arms when she realized where he was seated. Leo faced Mama toward Lynne, and she just sat there, content with the petting.

Well, that’s progress, Lynne thought.

Minka removed from her large bag a phone stand and two ring lights she’d brought with her. “For ambiance,” she said. “Lynne, we’re going to do this from your O’Donnell’s profile so I don’t have to tag you. Can you sign in?”

Lynne signed into the bar’s account, and Minka walked them through which buttons to press. “Now, don’t look at yourselves. Look at the phone,” she instructed.

“But what do we say?” Lynne asked. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, every bad public-speaking memory lining up to heckle her.

“It’s just the first one,” Minka said. “Tell them how you found the kittens, how Mama freaked when you moved them upstairs, how they’ve turned your life into a fur-covered soap opera. That’s what they’re here for.”

“It’s finally your chance at fame, Mama.” Leo’s tone was excited. He seemed relaxed as his thigh brushed up against hers.

Lynne felt a lump forming in her throat.

Minka could read the expression on her face. “Just be you, Lynne. Don’t sweat it. Leo, why don’t I give a little intro and you start? Then you can chime in whenever it feels right, Lynne. Okay?”

She swallowed hard. “Okay. Let’s just get this over with. It’ll be short, right?”

“As short or long as you want it to be. Now, you might get some questions coming in during the livestream. After all, it’s the weekend, and people have time on their hands. If you get lost, don’t worry. I’ll shout out the questions off-camera.”

Minka fiddled with the ring light and phone stand, then stepped back. The glow softened the living room, smoothing out the scuffs on the coffee table and the circles under Lynne’s eyes.

“We’re live,” Minka’s voice snapped into a bright, too-smooth register. “Hi, everyone! We’re coming to you from @ODonnellsBarAR with Lynne, the owner of O’Donnell’s, and @LeoM_27 today! And I’m Minka, who’s been bringing you the saga of Mama Cat and her kittens—who should all get their own handles, by the way, shouldn’t they? Start ‘em young.”

Lynne watched herself in the tiny preview and instantly hated it. The way she sat too straight, the uncertain tilt of her mouth. But she forced her gaze up to the camera lens, like Minka had coached her.

Little hearts and laughing faces floated up the screen. The comments flew in so fast, Lynne could barely read them before they disappeared.

“Okay, okay,” Minka said, squinting at the phone. “We’ve got ‘How’s Mama doing?’ from @ProfessionalSide3y3, and @CntrlAltRegret wants to know if the kittens are still waking you all up at three a.m.”

Lynne realized she was frozen stiff, arms crossed, her hands clenched beneath her elbows. But Leo’s breath was steady, his body relaxed as he spoke.

“Yeah. These kittens believe sleep is a myth. We’ve come to accept our fate.” Lynne snorted, the sound escaping before she could stop it. “Mama’s good, too, as you can see.” He scratched Mama’s head.

“Okay, more questions—‘How’s Mama handling all the attention?’ and ‘Is she still mad at Lynne?’ Rude. That one’s from @NeutralatBest.”

“She’s been … tolerating me,” Lynne confessed.

“That’s generous,” Leo said, lips quirking. “But she’s coming around.”

Lynne suddenly felt a brush against her hand. When she glanced down, she saw Mama, nuzzling her clenched fist and grooming her sleeve.

“You seeing this?” Leo asked the phone, but his voice had gone soft. “Big moment here.”

He wasn’t staring at Mama anymore. He was staring at her.