Page 16 of The Followers

“Give me the updates, please,” Molly said, and Brookelle ran through their engagement metrics: traffic, bounce rate, and conversion rate for the website; viewers, watch time, and subscriber growth for TikTok; comments, reach, and impressions for Instagram. Some were up, some were down, but overall, everything sounded stable. That wasn’t great—if you’re not growing, you’re dying—but it also wasn’t atypical for summertime.

Molly had hired Brookelle a few weeks before her book launched two months ago. It was the first time she’d had anyone work for her full-time, though she’d used freelance web developers, publicists, and various consultants over the years. Brookelle was responsible for the nuts and bolts of the brand, including communicating with sponsors. This freed Molly to focus on big-picture marketing and development, the book, and her new family. Still, it was strangely disorienting to not be responsible for the entirety of her social media presence.

“I have a home tour planned for next week,” Molly said. “I’ll send you the footage by Wednesday.”

“Got it,” Brookelle said, brisk and efficient. Molly imagined her, with her sleek black topknot and bold eyebrows, typing notes while sipping an açai smoothie.

“Anything else?” Molly asked.

“Actually, yeah,” Brookelle said, her voice dropping. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the snark sites—”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” Molly would never understand the appeal of consuming someone’s content for the sole purpose of mocking it online.

“Someone’s been seeking info about you and your family,” Brookelle said. “Trying to find your address, for example. It’s just some anonymous username—no profile pic or anything.”

“Is this something I need to worry about?”

Molly had never been stalked—though she had a few obsessive fans, including a teenager named Eddie Langford who had gone so far as to rob a Walgreens, steal her favorite candy, and leave it on her doorstep—but it was a constant, low-level worry in the back of her mind.

“Not sure yet,” Brookelle said. “I’ve asked Kev to take a look.”

Kev was a digital forensics specialist. Molly had worked with him in the past, when she’d needed to prove another influencer was stealing her posts.

“Good idea,” Molly said. She stepped around a middle-aged couple wearing cowboy hats. “It should be against the website’s code of conduct to seek personal information like that—”

“It is,” Brookelle said. “I messaged the website owner and told her she better cooperate or we’d get our attorney involved. She was bitchy at first, but then I talked about subpoenas and lawsuits and she caved.”

“Nice,” Molly said, glad that Brookelle was on her side. She could be vicious. “Gotta go. Chat later, ’kay?”

Outside Sweet Cakes Bakery, Molly paused, breathing in the scent of sugar, butter, and flour. The nectar of the gods. She took a selfie in front of the window and posted it in her Instagram stories:

Picking up the unicorn cupcakes for Clover’s party!@sweetcakesbakery

Then she headed in the door.

“Can I help you?” the teenage girl at the counter asked, barely looking up.

“I’m here to pick up an order of cupcakes,” Molly said. “It’s under Molly Sullivan.”

The girl froze, then glanced up with widened eyes. “Omigod. You’re—you’re Molly Sullivan! The Molly Sullivan?” She squealed. “You’re picking up the cupcakes? I thought you had, like, people to do that for you or something.”

Molly smiled, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. It was difficult always being “on” for other people, and after talking to Brookelle, she was distracted. But she had vowed to be approachable and accessible to any of her followers. That’s what mattered: not Molly’s to-do list, not her own discomfort, but the fact that this girl felt noticed and appreciated.

“It’s just me,” Molly said, doing a little curtsy.

“I’m a huge fan,” the girl said. “I was super excited when I heard you were moving here, but I seriously never thought I’d meet you in person.” She paused, her smile fading. “My mom passed away last year, and your posts were, like, the only things that made me smile for so long.”

Molly brought a hand to her heart. “Oh, my sweet friend! I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Can I give you a hug?”

The girl’s face broke into another huge smile. “Of course! My friends are going to literally lose their minds. Can I take a selfie with you?”

“I’d be honored.”

eight

To be a millennial today means existing in two realities, living your life while also observing it, constantly questioning if these experiences are sharable or not. The walls between public and private spaces are so thin they are nearly nonexistent. Where does my brand end and my personal life begin?

—Article from Influenced.com:

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