Page 30 of The Broker

But that post got more engagement than I’d ever gotten before, and so I decided to lean into it. And with the creation of a new profile, I needed more videos to start training the algorithm.

I did a deep clean of Noah’s dishwasher next, and when I had the post prepared, I texted a link to him for approval.

Me:Is it cool if I post this?

I waited with strange flutters in my stomach. I wasn’t typically nervous posting stuff, plus I was confident the video was good. The lighting and sound were spot-on, and I’d editedthe clips to move at a great pace. Just long enough to get the information out with no extra fat. I wasn’t worried Noah would object to the post either. You could only see his kitchen sink and the dishwasher nearby, and everything looked like your basic kitchen. It was so generic, there was no way anyone could figure out where it had been shot.

These anxious flutters while I waited for his response were because I wanted him tolikethe video. To like my work, to like me. Why did it feel like his approval mattered more than any other viewer?

Noah:Fun fact. I didn’t know dishwashers had filters.

I snorted.

Me:Didn’t look like the previous owner knew either.

The little screened cup at the bottom of his dishwasher had been clogged with hard water buildup, food, and a papery sludge like someone had washed jars without removing the labels. I’d had to soak the filter in vinegar and then scrub it with an old toothbrush to get the crust off.

Noah:That shit looked nasty. Sorry.

Me:It was good for the vid. I don’t want to be cleaning things that look clean.

Noah:Makes sense. It’s fine with me to post.

There was a tightness inside me that didn’t go away with his approval. A twinge of disappointment lingered as I reread his text.

It’s fine.

That was all the feedback he’d given me. Notgreat, oramazing, oryou looked hot.

I pushed my phone into my pocket and grew annoyed at myself. What had I expected? The guy didn’t even like cleaning. He wasn’t going to be interested in what I’d—

My phone vibrated with a new text message.

Noah:Video was great BTW. So professional.

A smile burst through my lips.

Me:Thanks.

The twinge evaporated in an instant, and I felt lighter the rest of the day.

When I wasn’t cleaning the Warbler office or Noah’s place, I also used places around my parents’ house for content. I needed to build a library of videos as quickly as possible, so people had other things to watch after finishing the post they’d found me through.

By the fourth week of working for him, we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. I texted him when I arrived and keyed myself in through the garage, cleaned, and then texted to let him know when I’d finished. He always Venmo-ed me the money right after.

The arrangement was perfect. I was working on my own, slowly chipping away at my debt with my parents, and had my car back. Plus, myHot Girl Cleanschannel was taking off. My previous profile had been lifestyle, but it’d been too broad, too unfocused. This new brand wasn’t just easier to create for—it was fun too. I didn’t have to struggle to find followers either.

“Everything always works out for you,” my friend Sasha had teased me last night when we’d hung out at her apartment. But her tone had been slightly off, and there’d been a hint of irritation, like maybe she wasn’t joking.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” I said.

She laughed and shook her head, not believing me. “Okay.”

I didn’t say anything else or bother trying to defend myself. From her perspective, it probably looked that way, and she’d seen my parents bail me out enough times to think they’d cave eventually. My dad would say all was forgiven and forget about the rest of the money I owed.

But it was different this time; I could sense it. Things were on track right now, but if I made another mistake? There would be no more second chances.

Sasha topped off her glass with a blush wine that was so sweet it made my teeth hurt and offered the bottle to me, but I shook my head. She folded a leg under herself as she turned to face me on her couch. “So, this guy’s house you’re cleaning... does he, like, watch you do it?”

---