Richard pursed his lips. “This is going to change everything,” he said.
A few months later: A picture of me, with Richard’s head turned my way, would become the iconic cover of the first book on Soulmail.SOULMAIL: THE WAY THE WORLD TURNS, a title publishing would crash as quickly as they could to capitalize on the occasion.
Seven
“Who the hell do you think you are?” One of Tate Dimmock’s front teeth was slightly in front of the other one. His tongue scraped it ontheandthink.
I hugged my arms to my chest and leaned against the corridor wall, where Samantha had steered me on break. My heart galloped somewhere in my sternum, my wedgie still firmly shoved up my butt.
“Rule number one. Of being live on air. Is. You do not depart from the script.” The tips of his ears were rosy. “I have half a mind to pull you off right this instant.”
“You can,” I said. “I have no problem stepping down right now.”
“No. We haven’t seen these kinds of numbers in years,” Samantha said in that matter-of-fact way of hers.
Jaime, a new-ish Per Diem production assistant, approached our huddle. “We have a head of transportation on virtual.”
“Get Richard on for a one-on-one report on the flight delays,” Tate ordered. “I need to think.”
Jaime whispered something into a mic. “Sir?” She held up a phone, the screen showing the comments section of the Per Diem livestream. “This is breaking records.”
“What do you—” He broke off. “Someone tell me what this means.”
“It means we’re higher thanTODAY, thanGMA...”
“C’mon. Those aren’t touchable by Per Diem.” He pointedat me. “She’s lying on air. Do you know what that’s going to do to us when it comes out that some random reporter made up a story for attention?”
“Whoa. I’m not lying,” I said, flushing.
“She’s not.” Samantha put her hand on my shoulder. “The story is true. I confirmed it myself.”
“You—” He stopped. “You did? That baby story is real?”
Samantha’s flinch was almost imperceptible. “It’s real.”
“It’s not just that. It’s Olivia’s socials,” Jaime said.
The Tylenol-shaped notifications bubble. “My post?”
“You’re mega-viral,” the production assistant said. “Last I checked, you’re at almost thirteen million views.”
I flinched. “I didn’t watch it. I hope it’s not, uh, bad, I—”
“No. It’s fine,” Jaime said. “It’s the algorithm. Early post was the right time, opportunity the right place, with Soulmail breaking at that moment. And your name is trending with Soulmail. When you GoogleSoulmail, your name’s right there, too.”
Tate Dimmock removed an honest-to-god handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face with it. A dozen yards away, Richard interviewed an operations manager from LaGuardia, assuring people the delays were temporary. “Huh,” he said. “Just when you think you understand the internet. So our numbers are good?”
“The best I’ve ever personally seen,” Samantha said.
He stared at her. “Ever?”
“I can read you some of the comments on the livestream,” Jaime offered.
Unease swirled through my gut. “I’m not sure—”
“Go.” Tate narrowed his eyes.
“Well.” Jaime darted a glance my way. “There’s a bit of dialogue between people making fun of Olivia’s little teleprompter whisper versus others telling them to give her a break.”
