I survey the mess on the ground. “Christ. She’s a right wee tornado, isn’t she?” I bend to pick up a butt plug. “I reckon you’re being too hard on her. She didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You said influencers are coming up here,” Alec says. “Flooding the place with tourists. That’s why the council wants our land. That’s her? She’s the kind of person you were talking about?”
“Well, aye,” I say. “But you can’t exactly blame her for the local council moving mad.”
Alec’s jaw tightens. “Look her up,” he orders.
“What?”
“You have social media,” he says. “Look her up. Summer Faye.”
“Okay.” I hook my phone out and search her name on Picturegram. Her account pops up immediately.
She has almost five million followers. I whistle. “Oh, damn. She’s famous.”
“What?” Alec looks over my shoulder as I scroll through her feed.
And…Hell. The pictures are all gorgeous. I flick through ones of her posing in tiny little outfits. Skintight dresses, miniskirts, bikinis…
“What does ‘cancelled’ mean?” Cameron asks impatiently, leaning against the fence. “She’s a person. You can’t cancel a person.”
“It’s when the internet decides you’re an absolute bawbag and you shouldn’t be followed anymore,” I explain.
He squints. “Summer?What couldSummerhave done?”
I don’t really get it either. Summer seems sweet as anything to me. I switch to Google and type her name in. A barrage of articles from pop news sites immediately floods the screen.
“Watch This Influencer Melt Down Over a Broken Lipstick”
“The Story Behind the ‘It’s Limited Edition’ Girl Meme”
“The Summer Faye Lipstick Scandal”
“Oh damn, yeah. She’s going viral all right.” I tap on one of the articles, and a video pops up. The three of us watch as onscreen, a very drunk Summer cries her heart out on a bathroom floor.
My heart twists. “Aw. Bless her. Her favourite lipstick broke. Look how upset she is.”
Alec shushes me, laser focused on the phone. We all wait to see what she does next.
There’s a few more seconds of crying, then the video ends, and we all stand in silence.
“Is that it?” Cameron asks eventually. “I see that fifty times over whenever we drive through the city on a Friday night.”
I frown as I scroll through the comments.
This is genuinely the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever seen.
Women: why has there never been a female president!! Also women when their makeup breaks:
The world is falling to pieces, and this is what’s going viral? Shallow girls with nothing to add to society??
Jesus.Why is everyone being so rude? Who hasn’t gotten drunk and had a wee wobble? Hell, back when I was studying in London, I had plenty of low drunken moments. If someone had recorded that shit and put it on the internet for millions of people to see…I don’t know what would’ve happened to me.
“Christ,” I say. “She’s getting cyberbullied by a million people right now. No wonder she wants to hide up here. I’m going to check on her.” I need to give that poor girl a hug.
“No,” Alec says. He’s staring down at the boxes, his expression frozen.
“What?”
