I put up a hand automatically. “Oh, no, please, I’m a wreck.”
“Char, you look tousled and hot, and we absolutelyneedto document the arrival of our newest queen for the big welcome video we do later.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s an influencer. I’m technically an influencer, even if my page is minuscule compared to hers. And I agreed to a job that basically involves 24/7 influencing.
Still, I have to bite my tongue to hide the grimace forming as Viv first takes a selfie of the two of us where I look woefully inadequate next to her glamour, and then swipes to video and directs me to look off at the surf “mysteriously” as she films me from different angles.
Get used to it, I tell myself.You literally signed up for this.
I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’m mostly grateful for the money. But I can’t let Viv know that I deeply dislike being an influencer, and I wouldn’t have done it without Sage’s prodding.
“It’s smart,” Sage had told me four years ago, after encouraging me to start a bookstagram. “Grow your audience organically. Then when we get published, we’ll have built-in readers!”
In the end though, only one of us got published.
Regardless, Viv clearly loves her job. I have to pretend I do too. What is influencing if not lying a little bit, all the time?
By the time Viv’s finished milking me for content, we’re pulling up to Ligia.
The island is small and flat. You could probably walk from end to end in a half hour. It’s lush with clusters of palm trees and other flowering greenery I’ve never seen before. They don’t have plants like these in Wisconsin, especially not on the cusp of winter.
Three sides of the island are ringed by rocks and shallow waters; the fourth has a short expanse of white sand beach with a longwooden dock jutting far out into the waves. A yellow beach house sits tucked away between a grove of trees and the edge of the sand.
“When Trey bought this island, he knew he had to name it Ligia,” Viv tells me as Captain Zap navigates carefully around the spear-like dock. “It means ‘clear-voiced.’ He named it after one of the sirens in Greek mythology because it’s a place fit for mermaids. And we’re like the sirens ofEmpress!”
My skin prickles at her words.
Fucking mermaids.
I don’t want to think about the book. About Sage. About mermaids and Greek myths. I clear my throat. “You know, Ligia are also isopods. They’re tiny bug-looking creatures known as ‘rock lice.’ They’re kind of ugly.”
Viv frowns. “I forgot you’re a bookworm.”
I should play nicer with her. She gave me a lucrative job. I need to behave. But she needs to shut up about mermaids.
“I like Trey’s version better.” I smile, trying to cover my slip. “Much sexier. Do I get to meet him? I guess he’s technically our boss, right?”
Viv’s frown flickers and vanishes, but there’s a tightness along the side of her jaw that wasn’t there before. “Oh, yeah, Trey pops in and out pretty often. You’ll meet him at some point, I’m sure.”
Trey Bardi. The unknown factor in this equation.
Two weeks ago, I was scrolling through job listings when my eyes snagged on one that had a familiar name in the description.Everyone knew Trey Bardi. Well, everyone who was plugged into matters of social media hierarchy did, anyway. Trey was a trust fund baby with a business-minded brain. He reached billionaire status by the time he was thirty-two, thanks to his tech start-up and hefty investment portfolio.
A year ago, at thirty-five and apparently not content to rest on any laurels, he bought a private island, founded a new company that builds luxury houseboats, and commissioned a bunch of hot young influencers to live on one and advertise it in return for free board and pay.
Looking for a smart, savvy social media content creator for a once-in-a-lifetime contract position for Trey Bardi’s Royal Yachts, the ad read.
There were about a billion different qualifications, and I met almost none of them. But I was desperately applying to anything that seemed even remotely related to my limited skills, so I submitted an application anyway.
To my surprise, I received an email from someone named Vivienne Rockland.
Trey and I looked at your page. He’s very interested in your style. I’d like to set up a Zoom interview to see if you might be a good fit.
I was intensely curious to meet Viv’s boss, to find out what on earth prompted him to be interested in my “style.” I had checked out theEmpresssocial media account, but I didn’t understand whatthey saw in me—a book micro-influencer whose page sold reading-themed merch, partnered with indie publishers, and promoted companies that made reading lights and bullet journals.
All Viv would say during our Zoom interview was that Trey wanted something “different,” wanted to “expand the brand.” Why they had picked me instead of one of the accounts with over a hundred thousand followers seemed strange, but I wasn’t going to question it now.
“We like that you’re not only posting photos of aesthetic books,” Viv explained during our call, right before she asked me if I’d be able to get down to Islamorada in a week for an in-person meeting. “You’re on camera. Talking about your thoughts. Being engaging. Selling the shit out of the books you like in a way that doesn’t seem like they’re being sold to you. That’s something we’re looking for.”
