Page 6 of Fox
Nope. I have been living at Oasis Apartments in apartment 13G for the better part of five years. I understand their line of questioning, though; my apartment lacks any essential staples that make a dwelling a home. There are no pictures and no decor on the walls. I still have the blinds up that came with the apartment, never bothering to purchase my own curtains. The furniture is laughably non-existent. I have a coffee table that holds my laptop and the tools I need for posting on my socialmedia platforms: a ring light on a tripod and a gray floor pillow that has a tapestry hanging behind it that I use as a backdrop, and that’s it. I am just as sparse in my bedroom, except I have clothes, shoes, and bags lying around.
I’ve never been one that could easily commit to anything long-term. Not that I don’t want to; I just fear getting stuck with something. Or not being able to care for it properly, or god forbid I lose it, or it leaves me. There have always been too many variables. Too many “what ifs” to do anything that would require a semblance of a deep, meaningful connection.What if I don’t like the decorations? What if I despise a new haircut? What if the couch ends up being made by a company that dislikes… oh, I don’t know, baby seals? And then I’m sitting in front of the camera on said baby seal-hating couch, and my followers notice and think I support them baby seal haters and decide to cancel me, and I’m forever known as Jai, the baby seal hater.
Shuddering at the horrendous thought of my entire livelihood going up in flames over a couch I don’t even own, I put the bottle of wine to my lips and take a long swig before heading back to my bedroom. I need to put influencing on the back burner for a minute while I try to figure out what in the fuck I’m going to do over the next year with the damn tattoo shop. I don’t want the shop at all. And I have zero interest in co-running it with an overgrown, emotionally stunted man who suffers from a god complex, along with his buddies, who are all just as full of themselves. I guess I shot myself in the foot with this one. I mean, it’s far from the first time my temper and mouth have gotten me into trouble. And Fox has always been someone who could easily pull it out of me. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly why I hate the man as much as I do. He was Dad’s golden boy, the son he never had, the next tattoo artist prodigy, or some shit.
Long story short, Dad paid more attention to Fox than to me, and I was jealous. Would that be considered childish? Eh,probably. Do I care? Not even a little. I care what the online world thinks of Jai because I have to. It’s my job. But I don’t give two shits about what Fox or anyone else thinks of me as Janie. Janie Pierce is like my secret identity, my Bruce Wayne, of sorts. I get to say what I want, when I want, without worrying about the online negative impact. Or I did. Will I still have that same reprieve once I enter the tattoo shop? Will a customer there recognize me as Jai? So far, I’ve been able to live a secretive life off the cameras, but I’m starting to fear that in my effort to make Fox’s life more difficult, I might have fucked myself over in the process, too.
I lean against my pillow while scrolling through my social media apps. Yeah, I said I needed to focus on the shop, but if I don’t go through and feed the algorithm, I will pay for it tomorrow.
Like I said, it has to be fed. Ignoring the comments, likes, follows, and shares, I scroll and browse the other creators, making notes on upcoming trends and videos I need to duet later. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the people interacting with my videos. I’m sure that, for the most part, they’re nice people. But when I’m in an overwhelmed mental state, I don’t want to be reminded thatSally4040493thinks that Ilive a spoiled lifeor thatMatt69694lifeknowsa great cream that is sure to make my skin glow. So, I click on the comments and, like the first ten, add random emojis so that my engagement stays high before turning the “do not disturb” feature on so my notifications will stop. Flipping to my text app, I frown in annoyance when I see that Brody, my boyfriend, and I use that term as loosely as possible, still has me on read. Rolling my eyes, I quickly tap him out a text.
Me: Hey B, I’m callin’ it a night! Guess you’ve been xtra busy. I g2g2 my dad’s shop tomorrow. I need 2CU soon! I have things to tell you. Big changes… Xx
My lip curls as I hit the send button. Who in their right mind thinks texting that way is cute? Seriously, the dumbed-down text speak is the bane of my existence. I’m a grown-ass woman, and I wrote 2CU.Gross.But I did it because it’s what’s trendy, and it’s what’s expected of me. After all,LOL, I’m Jai, and I’m as deep as a tablespoon. Insert kissing face emoji here.
“God, I’m annoying.” I roll my eyes before staring up at my ceiling. My online persona is this doe-eyed, pouty-lipped airhead who swings her hips and giggles for views. Her most profound thoughts are:“I feel like we should give makeup to the homeless this year because everyone should feel pretty.”
I fucking hate her.
And I have no one to blame but myself. I have allowed promoters and marketers to mold me into this fucking dimwit, and now, it’s all I got. This isn’t what I wanted growing up. I thought I would… Well, it doesn’t matter anymore what I thought. The plans, dreams, and aspirations I might’ve had when I was younger are lost now, and I’ve learned to accept the life I’ve fallen into. Accept it; it doesn’t mean I like it.
Looking back at my phone, I see that Brody sent me aKk,and I let out a scream in frustration. Why can’t he be a normal person when the cameras aren’t on? Brody is my male social media counterpart. About a year ago, I was doom-scrolling and came across one of his thirst trap videos. You know, the ones that blow up because a guy licks his lips and stuffs his gray sweatpants—yes, they’re stuffed. When I saw his video, I think Brody was somewhere around twenty thousandfollowers. I thought he was cute, so I made a duet video with him, and Brody became a social media icon overnight. Now, he has close to a million followers. Our mutual followers liked the idea of us together, so we met and hit it off… sort of. He and Jai definitely hit it off better than him and Janie ever would. But, the sponsor prospects were nothing to sneeze at. So, after our second meeting, I think it was just decided that we should date, and here we are. He is the closest person and only friend I have, as pathetic as that is,and it would be nice if he could give me some comfort.
Growing up, I had to be strong. I had to be the one who Dad never needed to worry about. I had a mean attitude, a smart mouth, and no feelings. Which meant I had no feelings to hurt. My dad would joke, saying I hadn’t shed a tear since I was born—a false statement, for sure. I did cry, and I still do. I just don’t allow others to see it. I have yet to find someone I’m comfortable enough around, my father included, to be that vulnerable with.
Glancing at my phone again, I notice I have another text. Opening it, I expected it to be Brody saying I was rude, not texting him. Ironic, right? But it’s not Brody, it’s Fox.
Fox: Your dad and Hel’s mean everything to me, Janie.
I read the text a few times while trying to ignore the pounding in my heart. “Your dad means everything to me,” I grunt in my best or worst rendition of his stupid, gruff voice. From the moment he came into my dad’s shop with his giant, stupid lumberjack build, ear gauges, and that cocky attitude. He’s such an asshole, and I wish nothing but the worst bout of constipation on him.
Me: ….And you are?
Fox: Torch. The levels at which you raise my blood pressure are becoming concerning.
Me: Well, you better call your doctor and have him double your dosage because the blood pressure ain’t coming down for a while.
Me: I was thinking maybe we could paint the shop pink and yellow, and the music definitely needs an update.
Me: I can have some of my collabs make us a mood playlist. Oh! I’ll make an entire mood board and show it to you on Thursday!
Placing the phone down and closing my eyes, I try not to think. I have two days before this becomes a reality, and dwelling on it will only increase my stress, and stress worsens my condition.
I haveEssential Tremors, which is a neurological disorder that causes different parts of my body to shake involuntarily. My medication helps to ease the symptoms I have, for the most part. I feel grateful because I’ve seen people with this condition who are far worse than I am. My head and voice are typically only affected if my stress is too high. Over the years, I’ve become a master at camouflaging my tremors with constant movements, filters, and crazy hair. But my hands…
I sigh softly while gazing at the shaking appendages. I don’t have an issue with my looks. I know I’m an attractive woman, even if the trolls on social media love to tell me otherwise. But my condition is something I’ve been able to keep away from that world. It’s Janie’s dirty little secret. Not even Brody knows, which has been easier to keep hidden than one mightassume. Brody isn’t into hand-holding or cuddling, and on the rare times we’ve been intimate, he thinks he is justrocking my world.Gross.
I was diagnosed at twelve and found out through my dad that my mother had it as well. However, hers was far worse than mine. Dad and I were the only two who knew about my ET, and now it’s just me.
Rolling onto my side, I reach for my phone to plug it in and see Fox sent me another text.
Fox: Janie, Do NOT burn this down just because you have a bug up your little ass.
Me: Hey, you don’t call me Torch for nothing. *fire emoji*
THREE
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