Page 2 of Ripped & Shipped
Duke’s married now, but Chris is single. If he weren’t so reserved and moody, he’d be a great catch. But we’re not talking about dating the man. I’m just trying to woo my audience with a little something to swoon over.
“Good morning, boys,” I coo to Duke and Chris.
Duke hams it up, ever the charismatic charmer.
“Well hello there, Ella Mae,” he says, “Hey Ella’s peeps!” He waves to the camera and literally flexes his biceps so they pop. Hello, viral video.
“Have a … what do you say, Ella Mae?” Duke pauses, scratching his chin in an exaggerated way. “Oh yeah. Have a Fab-U-lous day!”
I chuckle. “That’s Duke, girls. Of course, he’s taken, so don’t fill the comments with requests for his info.”
I turn the camera on Chris. He turns away. His back faces me and the camera. Rude.
“So, girls, this is the back of Chris,” I say, playfully. “What a back, though, am I right? Was it shoulder day today, Chris?”
He grunts like some neanderthal. Then his hand comes around, covers the screen of my phone and he powers it down. Mid-livestream. He just cut me off from my peeps.
“What the heck, St. James?” I ask.
“I think it’s illegal to film people without their consent, Ella Mae.”
“Not anymore, St. James. Keep with the times. If we’re in public, I’m allowed to film. It’s referred to as a no expectation of privacy contingency. I’ve done my research. And I’m not hurting anyone.”
Duke, being somewhat of a peacekeeper by nature, jumps between us and looks at Chris. “She’s just having fun, man. Don’t be so hard on her.”
“I’m actually doing my job,” I say.
Yes, it can be fun, but social media is my livelihood. And Chris just cut me off from the people who butter my bread and keep a roof over my head. Not to mention, they think the world of me. In my world, reputation is everything. One turn of your image can mean disaster. The limelight is like a firefly, flitting around from person to person. You want to maintain your status and remain popular? Then you need to stay current and keep people coming back for more.
“Don’t film me,” Chris says.
“Ella Mae,” Riley sing-songs from behind the counter. “Your drink order is up.”
I turn my phone back on, staring Chris in the eye as I do. His eyes are bright and blue, they’ve got a depth to them, and they deceptively appear so much kinder than the attitude he’s throwing my way.
I tap a few buttons on my phone. As soon as the screen tells me I’m live, I say, “Sorry, peeps! Technical difficulties are real!”
I glance at Chris. His arms are crossed over his chest like a nightclub bouncer. His face is an inscrutable mask.
“But I’m back! And we’re about to see what the number one caffeinated drink for summer is here at the local coffee shop.”
Shooting Chris a meaningful look, I tilt the phone slightly, and in a possibly overly-loud voice, I ask Riley, “Riley, do you mind if I film you?”
“Of course not, Ella Mae,” she answers in her usually cheery tone.
I turn the camera toward my face, spin so my back faces the counter, and make sure the screen is filled with both Riley’s and my faces.
“What do we have to drink today, Riley?”
“It’s the chocolate coffee smoothie!”
This girl is gold.
“Ooooh. Sounds delish! Tell us what’s in the drink!”
“It’s almond milk, cold brew, chocolate syrup, and ice, blended to perfection. We add java chips at the end if we make it a chocolate chip coffee smoothie.”
I pick the drink up, and toast the people watching. My on-screen counter says nine thousand viewers are watching me right now. That’s a little low compared to my usual count, but it’s midday on a summer weekday, and I didn’t announce this live before I got on.
