Page 49 of Totally Fanatic

“See you there,” I say and take one last breath before pulling open the cafe door. The Banana-Ramas leap into action. Their phones held up, some of them look like they’re live streaming. Ilet their questions blur into white noise and focus on what I need to, my bike. Someone has propped it against the wall. That was nice of them not to just leave it on the ground, I think before grabbing the handlebars and looking at them directly for the first time since stepping out the door.

“I was fired because of you,” I say, trying to sound upset to really sell it. “Now I have no job, are you happy?”

They ask more questions, flashing their cameras, but I don’t answer them.

“Follow me home if you like, it’s the only place I’ll be now. No point staying here. I won’t be back because I WAS FIRED.”

I start to ride away, and a few of them follow for a couple of feet but drop off. I chance a look back as I turn the corner, and they’re all finally moving away from the cafe. Mary Beth will be able to open soon. It worked.

When I get home, the cats all greet me, even King, and I hang my bike up on the wall beside my door with the helmet and flop down onto the couch.

“Well, boys, Daddy is home for the day. What should we do?”

My phone makes the monkey noise I set it to for texts from Tim. I used to use it exclusively for when he commented on my posts, but this is way better.

TIM: I don’t know how the media found out. Are you okay?

LION: I’m fine. The Banana-Ramas were blocking the cafe this morning, though, so I told them I was fired. The boys are happy I am home. King has taken prime position in my lap and the others are having to sit at my feet and my side. How is your day going?

TIM: Wait, you were fired?

LION: They were stopping Mary Beth from opening, so I just said I was fired. She didn’t really fire me. But I guess if they keepfollowing me, she won’t really be able to hire me back if she can’t open when I’m there.

TIM: I am so sorry. It looks like someone took a picture of us at the pub last night. I think they were listening to our conversation, and then they must have figured out the rest for themselves. It’s stupid that we can go anywhere in the country and not be recognized half the time, but here in Savannah, we’ve got them following everything we do. You would think in our hometown, people would just leave our private lives private. I meant what I said yesterday. I know why you did it. I can try to sneak over to your place after the game if you want.

Tim has never been to my place before. It would be nice for him to meet the boys.

LION: You’re always welcome over. I’ll head home right after the game, and you can come when you are ready.

TIM: You’re still coming tonight?

LION: Of course I am. I have the Big Banana season tickets. I plan to be at every game.

TIM: You don’t have to do it for me. There would be Banana-Ramas at the game and in the stands, too. I understand if it would be too much.

What does he mean by too much? I always come to his games. Before we were… whatever we are, I was there supporting him. I’m not missing the game.

LION: I’m not breaking my streak. Besides, you still have another home run to hit, and I want to be there when you do it.

TIM: Okay. But if you change your mind, I’ll understand. Duckie just walked in. I’m going to see if he found anything out.

I message back a thumbs-up emoji and run my hand down King’s fur, the sleek black covering his back shining in the lights from my window. Daffin nudges my elbow and meows.

“I only have two hands, guys,” I say, putting the phone down to scratch him under the chin with that one while still patting King.

King gets his fill of hogging my lap and jumps off to rest in the stream of sunlight coming in through the window. Daffin and Chip both leap into his place, and after a little help from me, they manage to share the space, half curled around each other. Reynolds is content between my feet, it seems. My phone chimes with a notification. Then another one. And another.

I pick it up and they just keep coming. Tag after tag. I open my phone and can’t believe what it is they are tagging me in. They say I’m dangerous. That I should be locked up. One person threatened to find me and make me pay for what I’ve done to Tim. They have it all wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t hurt Tim. Why are they saying these things?

I go to reply, but there are too many tags coming in to even know where to start. I wonder how Tim is getting on with Duckie. Though finding out how these silly stories started won’t do anything to stop it. I think when people see it’s nothing, they will lose interest. We just have to wait for that to happen. Until then, or at least for now to save the boys from the constant chimes, I flick my phone on to silent, switch off the vibrate function and send off a quick message to Tim.

LION: I’ve got my phone on silent, so might not see your message as soon as it comes in, but I’ll be checking my phone, just in case you worry if I don’t reply right away. I hope the warm-up goes well today. See you tonight.

I open my computer to check out what else these stories are saying without the constant buzz of the notification taking upthe screen. It can’t be that bad. All I did was create a few profiles to support Tim. What I find is not what I was expecting. There had to be someone listening to us at the bar, how else could they know about the soup? There is a story saying I drugged Tim with soup when he was sick, that I pretended to be a food delivery guy to get inside his apartment building. What the fuck. How can they just lie like that?

Then there is the post I hate the most. The one claiming Tim paid me to inflate his popularity, it claims that Tim hired me to create buzz about him when rumors were flying that the Banana Ball executives were going to send him packing back to Aus. Like they would ever.

There is a picture from a few years ago claiming to be a secret handoff, when it’s really just him signing the cat vet card I have framed near my door. There’s another picture of a figure in the alley at night by Tim’s place. They claim it’s me, secretly watching him. I mean, it could be me. I’ve been in that alleyway plenty of times, and I did go over to Tim’s when he was away to make sure everything was okay. You know, that no one had broken in.

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