“Say hi to my followers!”
I know I should mingle. I should smile and take pictures and make people like me. I try and try and try to dig deep inside me, to bring out that old sparkle that I used to be able to turn on on demand. But I just can’t. I don’t have the energy.
“Summer!” Suddenly Lulu is at my side, shoving a shot glass at me. “Here, have a drink.” She unlocks her phone and snaps a pic of us.
I push the shot back at her. “I shouldn’t.” Drinking would be a bad idea right now.
“Fair enough.” Lulu slams the shot, then loops her arm through mine. A phone camera flashes, and she points at it. “Tag me, I’m @BengaliBarbie!” She yells, tugging at me. “Okay, come with meeee, I have someone you need to meet.” She drags me to a corner of the club, where a woman in a blazer is standing next to a champagne tower. “Stephanie!” Lulu sings. “I have her for you.”
The woman turns, and my stomach drops as I realise who she is.
Stephanie Song, the owner of Icons Only.
Shit.
SEVENTY-TWO
SUMMER
Stephanie beams down at me, as if she didn’t recently crush my dreams to bits. “Summer! What a wonderful party. Congratulations, this is such a massive milestone. I promise I’m not crashing. Your friend here invited me.”
“Oh.” I glance at Lulu, who’s staring at me intently like she’s trying to send me a telepathic message. “Thank you?” I’m not sure why I’d want the owner of the brand who humiliatingly dumped me at my party, but, like, okay.
“Listen,” Stephanie says, ducking her head so I can hear her over the music. “I’m so sorry for the mix-up. The intern responsible has been dealt with.”
“Mix-up?”
She nods. “The email that you received about cancelling the collaboration? That was meant to be sent to another content creator. I don’t know how it happened. Honestly, I’m really embarrassed about it. Of course, we’re so eager to work with you. In fact, we’d love to meet next week and really get the ball rolling on your dress collaboration line.”
My heart leaps. “Really?”
“Of course. We were thinking…something moody. Dark. Evening wear, very chic, you know. Our design team already hassome mood boards drawn up. We’d love to riff off this ‘sad girl glam’ aesthetic trend you’ve started. The photoshoot would be very dramatic, all diamonds and makeup running.”
I blink. “Oh, I don’t actually think I’d like to do something dark.”
Her eyebrow arches. “No?”
“No,” I shout over the music. “I already have a ton of design ideas drawn up that I can show you?—”
Stephanie cuts me off. “Usually, when we collaborate with a content creator, our design team comes up with pieces that they feel best encapsulate the creator’s style, and the creator offers approval.”
I don’t understand. “But…I thought the point was that the influencer designed the line.”
“You’d be involved every step of the way, but at the end of the day, we know our influencers aren’t fashion designers.” She looks at my dress with an amused twinkle. “Best to leave these things up to the experts.”
“Well, I did actually go to fashion school—” I start.
Suddenly, a scream goes through the crowd.
Lulu grabs my arm. “Oh my God! It’s time!” she yells in my ear, staring at the board displaying my follower count at the back of the room. “Sorry, Stephanie, I need to steal her for photos.”
Stephanie smiles indulgently. “We’ll talk,” she assures me, patting my shoulder. “I’ll have our first sketches sent over ASAP.”
“Come on, come on, come on!” Lulu chants, her sharp nails digging into my skin as she drags me through the pulsing crowd towards the front of the club. People crowd around me as the numbers flicker up and down.
4,999,988.
4,999,979.
