April hated live videos. Too many variables. Oh, sure, she did them. Of course she did—she had to. But she did them in the relatively controlled environment of her home after rehearsing multiple times. And, also, most of her videos were prerecorded. Life was easier that way.
Even when it was freaking hard.
“I’m wearing my green shoes.” Harmony climbed up on the stool to get closer to the cell.
There was a bit of a pause.
“Green shoes are…great,” Jack finally said, sounding excessively out of his depth.
If he saw the dress they went with, April had a feeling he’d change that tune real quick. Jack was all about appearances.
He went on about final touches, while April shooed Harmony toward the door.
A success in the world of turning social influencers into celebrities, Jack’s blond-haired, blue-eyed, sun-kissed California handsome was wrapped up tight in a suit that probably cost more than her monthly mortgage. At least, that’s how his photo appeared on the company website. Still, he had a way about him that soothed frayed edges.
She used to be that way, too, back in the before times. Before the divorce times. She used to soothe, too. Now, though, her edges stayed consistently frayed. Not even Jack could smooth them.
So she did what her mama and her mama before her did: she faked it. Until she made it. Dear God, please let her make it.
The Calm Mom: Mindful Motherhood, Simplified.Her brainchild and the vision that madeherfeel special. She had become a brand. A brand she’d spun out of nothing but sheer determination and the hope that someday her life would, in fact, be peaceful again. Soon.
Soon-ish.
Someday.
Maybe starting today, with this hopefully-leads-to-more-endorsements video of her shopping excursion at Earth Foods, Denver’s premier organic grocery store chain.
April’s company had launched only two months ago. Over twenty-thousand MyTube subscribers practiced yoga with her prerecorded videos every week. Also, she posted a biweekly meditation series that had surpassed the number of yoga followers within the first month.
Self-sufficiency as an influencer was on the horizon.
Take that, Kent.That’d be her ex. She’d make this work because she didn’t need him or any future spousal support.
Back in the day, she’d made the wrong choice to put her career on hold sohecould play alpha male and climb that corporate ladder. This would be her comeback. She would be her own alpha this time. Alpha, beta, omega…she could be everything.
Harmony bounced out of the kitchen as Jack said, “Your brand is solid. Your content is spot-on. Nowweshine.”
We. As though they were a team. Which, they sort of were, given that he was the Vice President of Influencer Strategy and she was officially now an influencer. With followers and everything.
She took him off speaker and held her phone against her ear as she lifted toddler Lola from the toy-mess she’d made on the floor and began shooing Harmony toward the garage so they could load up.
“Rachel will meet you at the store. She’ll ensure everyone is briefed and ready to roll,” Jack’s words were smooth as honey, calming as a well-timed Savasana. “You have any problems, I’ll be right here to help.”
“Perfect.” April gulped, stepping around a pile of Legos in the laundry room so she could slip into her own shoes, the black flats that would’ve matched Harmony’s.
She switched the phone to her other ear as Jack-the-multitasker shuffled papers in the background and said something to someone else in his Los Angeles office she knew he rarely left.
“I can’t ask her that,” Jack said, but clearly not to April.
There was some mumbling in the background before he said, “Are they willing to pay for it?” More mumbling. Then to her: “They’re asking that you bring the dog, April. The store’s got a whole canine-food-delivery thing going to the picnic tables out front. They want to highlight it. I’m just finding out.”
April’s pulse paused a beat.It’s okay, girl. Pick your battles.
But. Uh. No. No. No. April’s geriatric basset hound, Mayonnaise—yes, that was her official name—had an unholy fear of riding in the car and a seriously unreliable bladder. Any outings with Mayonnaise required a solid strategy, not to mention two adults to lift her into and out of the car.
“I…I’m sorry, Jack, but that’s not going to happen,” April said, glancing at the hefty dog. Mayonnaise chilled near the bay window overlooking the crinkled leaves dropping from the trees onto the trampoline in the backyard.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Like he was waiting for her to change her mind.
