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“Why?”
“Because we told a few little white lies and we’ll need your help.”
I down the rest of the beer and consider opening another.
My mom jumps down onto the floor, and I grab onto her shoulders to steady her.
“What are the lies?” I ask.
“We told them that she has a personal hair stylist on deck.”
“Well, I’m sure you can hire one,” I say. “That actually seems like a pretty decent expense to have now since you’re starting to get more sponsors.”
“We’re going to look into that for sure.” She smiles. “But, we also told them that she has more availability than she really has. We didn’t take into account the other sponsors’ needs and after the London Fog thing, I realized that we can save time if we just use you as a stand-in.”
“What?”
“We scheduled her Q&As for Thursdays, as well as live meetings, and fittings. She can be multiple places at once, thanks to you.”
“What if I don’t want to do that?” I say. “You promised no more required things since we moved here, Mom.”
“Well, that was before the Whimstery deal,” she says. “And these are the things that pay the mortgage and bills on this lovely home we have.”
I swallow down the words on the tip of my tongue.
With all the money she made from exploiting us online in the past, this home should’ve been bought in cash. The bills shouldn’t cause too much stress at all at this point.
“We also are thinking bigger!” Tully is singing now. “Private flights instead of first class, bank accounts for our future kids, my grand wedding to Easton someday, and I’m sure you’ll want to open some grand goth store, right?”
I say nothing.
“I started drafting a tentative schedule so you can actually see what we’ll need,” my mom says. “This is going to be like the old days on my Youtube channel all over again!”
As if I don’t have any say in the matter, no life of my own, my mother jumps down and hands me a black and pink folder.
She tries to grab my hands and make me dance along with her and Tully, but the only thing moving are the tears in my eyes.
When Easton climbs through my window later that night, he asks me why I’m crying, but I don’t tell him.
I don’t want Tully to take over this part of my night, too.
12
EASTON
Days later
The University of Alabama’s campus stretches across hundreds of lush green acres. The football stadium is the centerpiece. I've been in contact with the head coach for years and today is just a meet and greet with the team counselors. A way for them to suck up to me again and get a subtle commitment that I haven't changed my mind about attending here.
As I walk toward the building, Tully jumps from behind a hedge with a bright red balloon bouquet.
“Roll Tide!” She smiles. “Wow. You look good as hell in a suit.”
“Hey…What are you doing here?”
“As if I would ever let you do this alone.”
I step back. “What do you mean? This is just a meeting, Tully.”
