If nothing else that I’ve done here is good enough for her, and now she’s bringing inLola, whoeveryoneknows is my biggest professional rival—I’m toast.
“That’s so great that you’re here to work on yourself with us,” I gush.
Pebbles growls at me.
She hates when I play the ugly public version of me.
I swoop down and pick her up and press kisses all over her fur so no one can tell I’m on the verge of hyperventilating at the realization that I’m going to lose my farm.
No,I tell myself.I will not lose my farm.
And I repeat it to myself until I believe it and can actually smile at Lola.
Fake-smile, but still smile. “Isn’t it the best to become better people when you’re surrounded with your family and friends?”
“Oh,totes,” Lola says.
Translation:The rumors about my reality TV show not getting renewed are true, so I’m grabbing onto the next biggest story in the tabloids in the hopes that the publicity will change the studio’s mind, or at least I’ll get a few more endorsement deals bigger than yours until I find my new next big project.
Oh, to have an optimistic bone in my body ...
But it makes sense. If you live your life in the spotlight, you go where the spotlight is.
And lately, it’s on Tickled Pink.
Between us—one of the world’s richest families—moving here after Gigi’s near-death, headed-to-hell experience, and then that little thing a couple of weeks ago with Phoebe’s boyfriend, Teague, who’s way more interesting to the entire world than you’d think a grumpy bearded fisherman who lives in a grown-up tree house would be, and also Phoebe’s trick of continually falling in the lake while the locals who would sell pictures to Page Six were watching, there’s definitely been an unexpectedly high level of tabloid attention here in backwoods Wisconsin.
“Lola will be an excellent addition to the family,” Gigi says. “Octavia, she’ll also be an excellent partner in your task of teaching Tickled Pink how to promote itself on its own.”
I stifle a sigh and pretend I don’t have a headache as I scrunch my nose in confusion. “Gigi, you just told meyesterdaythat that’s what you wanted me to do.”
“Phoebe figured out how to get involved in the community and how to put her talents to use without having to be told what to do.”
Phoebe Phoebe Phoebe.
If it’s not my mother telling me how skinny and pretty Phoebe is, it’s my grandmother telling me how smart and driven Phoebe is.
And the worst part?
I actuallylikePhoebe now.
I sincerely doubt I’ll ever say the same about Lola.
“Well, I’mso gladI’ll, like, have such great help,” I reply.
Pebbles growls again.
Lola gives me back the same fake smile I’m giving her. “Does your dog have rabies?”
“No, she just has taste.”God, I hate living this life. I follow the statement by lifting Pebbles so we’re cheek to cheek, pulling out my phone, and snapping a selfie.Eat your heart out, Lola Minelli. You don’t have a dog to make you look like you have a soul.“Niles, do you mind if I invade your kitchen to get her a little snacky-snacky?”
“You got a new subscription box of those organic vegan treats yesterday,” the older man replies. He’s clearly amused by all of this, like he has no idea he’s sleeping with the woman who probably gave birth to Satan in one of her previous lives. “I put them in your room.”
“Oh,fabu. Thank you so much, Niles. I’ll just get her some oatmeal now, and then we’ll get the treats later.”
Pebbles hates those. Can’t blame her. What dog wants to eat dehydrated cauliflower and kale?
“You’ll sit now and feed your dog later,” Gigi replies as Niles rises and heads to the kitchen, undoubtedly because he’s reading all thefetch the hangry influencer some foodvibes coming off one or more of us. “Right now, we need to discuss how we’ll be supporting Phoebe as she gets a new Ferris wheel built and opens her taffy shop.”
