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I spend the rest of the evening pitching to more companies for sponsorships. So far, I don’t have anyone who’s interested, and I don’t understand why. I have thousands of followers. Thousands! They should be coming to me, begging me to promote their products. I’ve even mentioned the potential of having Patrick Amaranth onboard, but I guess they must think I’m lying.
I post a picture of myself on my bed, the shot just showing my legs against the mattress. A few likes come through, but not much more than that. I pull up my conversation with Patrick and read through our messages. I can’t afford to take things slow anymore. I need this to work.
I need it to worknow.
CHAPTER 15
It’s late, and I have work in the morning, but I can’t get my mind to shut up. So, I write to Patrick, giving this one more try. After some pleasantries, I cut right to the chase.
Look, you’ve been following me for a while and are obviously liking what I put out there. Would it really be so badif we were to collaborate on something? Do you have any idea how much something like that would do for me?
I kind of wish I could take the message back as soon as I sent it, but it’s too late. Patrick is already typing out a response.
You understand I get requests like this all the time, right? Don’t get me wrong, I like talking to you. I like your pictures, too. But I can’t just sell out my brand like that. I’ve worked hard to build that. I won’t compromise my professional integrity just because some hot girl asks me to shout her out. It doesn’t work like that. Besides, what’s in it for me?
What do you want?
I wait for him to type, hoping he won’t get creepy on me. Then his message pops up on my screen.
Honestly, there’s nothing you have that would make me do this. Sorry, Sophie.
Patrick, I really need this.
Why? Is clout really that important to you?
I type without thinking.I need to get more followers than this guy I used to date. That’s all I want. Just give me a shout-out, and I can be done.
Damn it. I shouldn’t have said that. It looks pathetic, even to me, as I read through my words again.
That’s why you’re doing this? Are you serious? Sophie, I say this with love. Get help.
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I put down my phone, and to my annoyance, it feels like I might start crying. What for? I took a risk, and it didn’t pay off. But I know that’s not it. For the first time since starting all this, I feel ashamed.
I don’t fall asleep for hours.
I startto get the hang of things at work pretty quickly over the next few days. Allie lets me do quite a lot by myself, and I only have to ask her for directions every once in a while. I like working with the old people. They’re fun, and they have a lot of stories to tell. I know the other members of the staff have heard their stories a thousand times before, but I think they like telling them to me. A fresh pair of ears.
I mostly enjoy working with Mrs. Johnson; she’s funny. She seems more like a friend than someone I’m taking care of. It feels good to keep busy, and when I get home, I’m too exhausted to think about anything else.
But then Mrs. Johnson brings up a topic I’d rather not talk about during our little morning routine together.
“Do you have a boyfriend, dear?” she asks one day as I’m fixing her hair in her usual style.
I shake my head. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“No? Did he break your heart?”
“We weren’t together long enough for him to break my heart,” I explain and put down the brush.
“That’s not true. I can see it in your eyes,” she says and pins her hair back. I grab her red lipstick and swivel her chair around so I can put it on.
“We were only together for a few weeks; it wasn’t that serious.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I laugh. “As if you care if I mind or not.” I pause. “I came on a little strong, I think. Maybe I was too clingy. He said he liked me, but we wanted different things. We’re moving at different speeds.” I leave out all the other stuff. I’m not sure I want toknow her thoughts about what I have been up to online over the past few weeks.
Mrs. Johnson seems to consider what I said. “Well, did you?” she asks. “Come on too strong?”
