“Ugh, don’t get all influencer on me. I hate it when you do that.”
“What?” I laughed. “I was into this stuff long before I started my business.”
“Take a day off, will you? We miss you.”
“No, you don’t.” I eyed my friend suspiciously. “You want something. What is it?”
“Don’t be mad.” She put her hands up in innocence. “We all decided to sign up for the documentary.”
My stomach dropped, and I blinked rapidly. “What? I thought we agreed—”
“I know. I told Soleil how you felt and I was on your side, but then Therese told us they upped the money and—”
“Of course they did!” I threw my hands up.“Because who would want to be in that? You really want to make money off of victims?”
We’d had this argument several times since May when Shelley Vale announced that a film crew was coming in the fall to shoot a documentary about what happened here ten years ago. The entire idea disgusted me, and my entire friend group participating in it downright hurt.
“All the victims are dead,” Emi shot back.
Not true. Two escaped.
“Whatever. Do what you want.” I dropped my mist bottle into my bag and untied my apron.
“Don’t be like this.” She sighed. “It’s over. The crimes are all ten years old, and the Sinister Minister is dead. Along with all of his culty followers.”
“You shouldn’t make fun of them. They were victims, too.”
“Sorry not sorry, but I don’t consider any of the people living inside that underground bunker church thing victims. You’ve seen the videos and books people wrote about him.”
I put my hands up to cover my ears. “Yes, yes, and I don’t want to hear about it again.” I zipped my bag up and gave my newest flower one last look. “Look, go for it. Reenact the scenes, do interviews, whatever they want you to do, but I refuse to profit off of it.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Miss Half-a-million-followers!” she yelled after me as I stormed off.
I turned back to my friend. She was wonderfully kind and caring and supported me when I quit my boring day job last year to try my hand at streaming. This was the only thing we’d ever disagreed on, and it hurt.We stood in the parking lot, glaring at each other.
Emi threw up her hands.
“Soleil and I are barely making rent every month. Her dad cut her off and my parents stopped helping after I quit school last year.”
A twinge of guilt seeped into my chest. I knew that.
“I get it. I’m sorry for making you feel shitty.”
Emi hurried over to me and looped her arm through mine.
“Thank you. I knew you’d understand. I’ve been pulling double duty at the bait and tackle store for two months straight, but my paychecks still suck and I smell like fish.”
“Aw, I think of it more as… earthy.”
“So, are you coming then? Starbucks can’t whip up fancy tea like you do, but I’m sure you can find something to drink.”
I pointed my keys at my car. “Can’t. Kansas is coming to visit this weekend. I need to get my place ready.”
“Isn’t he the one you used to date? The one in all those pictures in your living room?”
My face flamed and I looked away guiltily.
“Yes and no. Kind of. I mean, yes, that’s him,” I rushed out. “It’s a long story, but he’s been away at school and I miss him and he’s coming to visit so I need to go get ready.”
