Page 58 of The Followers

“It’s just for the next six weeks or so,” she told Brookelle. “When Scott’s work slows down, mine will pick up.”

“Six weeks in internet-time is like six years, Mama Molly.” Brookelle gasped as if something had occurred to her. “I know! You should have a baby!”

Molly knew why she said it—the same reason so many mom bloggers kept having babies, then homeschooled them. There’s not much to share when your kids are gone all day. Molly felt a twinge of worry: Chloe would start kindergarten this fall. What, exactly, would Molly chatter about if Chloe was gone and Scott wouldn’t let her post anything about him or Ella?

“We’re not having a baby to get more social media attention.” Besides, Scott probably wouldn’t want that baby online, either.

“Well, I have something else for you. A new live video system we agreed to beta-test.”

Molly put both hands on a stubborn weed and yanked. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. “We agreed to test it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I told them you’d do it. They’re paying your usual rate for product placement and you’re not in a position to turn this down.”

Molly sighed and wiped the sweat away with the back of her arm. “Fine, what is it?”

Brookelle nearly squealed. “You’re going to love it. It’s a system of tiny cameras, the size of dice, placed all over your home. They’re equipped with facial recognition software, and once you turn them on—it’s an app on your phone—they follow you, trading off between the cameras that give the best shot of your face. You can literally walk around your house, talking to your followers, and the cameras will track you and automatically upload the video via Wi-Fi to your Instagram and TikTok live!”

Brookelle paused, waiting for Molly to be amazed. Instead, she was horrified. “What if I accidentally turn it on while walking around my house naked?”

“That would be fantastic!”

Molly stood and moved down a few paces, then knelt. She noticed something in the dark soil of the flower bed—the print of a boot. Much larger than her own foot. Definitely a man’s shoe.

She glanced up. The master bedroom window was above her head, and she thought about the night Hoopi had lunged at it, barking ferociously. Goosebumps rose on her arms for the second time that day.

“Are you listening?” Brookelle said.

Molly blinked, coming to attention. “Yes, sorry. Go on.”

“I said they’re coming to install the cameras tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

Brookelle cleared her throat, and Molly knew what was coming: the same thing her assistant had been bothering her about for weeks. “Think about what else you could do to get some attention, Molly. Your online presence is languishing like a coma patient. Either put it out of its misery or revive it, but don’t leave it to slowly starve to death. Wasn’t it Oprah who said writing is easy, you just pick up your pen and bleed?”

Molly bit her tongue to keep from saying no, it was not Oprah who said that. But in a way, Brookelle was right. Nobody wanted to follow a person who lived the same boring life as everyone else. There was always some inherent voyeurism in social media, peeking through an open window into a stranger’s world.

After ending the call, Molly stood and looked at the boot print in the dirt, at the window above. If she told Scott about this, he would get nervous. The print was probably his, anyway. But just to be safe, she’d keep her windows closed at night whenever he was gone.

As she walked back inside, Molly focused on the next task on her to-do list: writing that post Brookelle wanted. Or maybe she could do a video—those seemed to get more engagement lately. But what to talk about? Her snapdragons? She longed for the early days, when life as a single, floundering new mom had given her unending fodder for Instagram.

Marriage didn’t provide as much juicy material—especially marriage to Scott, the most reclusive man in America. A spark of resentment flared inside her, and she tried to squelch it. She would never in a million years trade her life with him for her life before.

And yet, that tiny spark of resentment remained. Toward Scott, for preventing her from sharing herself fully online. But also—maybe even more so—toward her followers, for demanding that she do so.

McSnark’s STOP RUINING MY INTERNET

The official discussion forum for Molly Sullivan of An Invincible Summer

IhateMollySullivan4eva posted:

Soooooo besties.... who wants to join me in some Molly speculation.

Meow17 replied:

You know Im always here for that

MamaLlama99 replied:

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