Page 24 of My Sister is Going to Kill Me

“They used to call you the laundry queen, Nana.”

Lucinda waved it off. “Owning a few laundromats and having a fourth cousin in the peerage hardly constitutes a noble claim.”

“It’s not like I’m saying I’m a princess,” Imogen said. “Just banking on my assets. But frankly, who you are matters less than what you do. To make it big, you need a thing. Something people can get only from you. Like, anyone can unbox swag or make get-ready-with-me videos, but there’s something about how you do it that’s special.”

“A catchphrase?”

“Catchphrases are cheesy,” Imogen said. “So are pets. We get it: You have a cute dog, or a one-eyed cat, or an albino Komodo dragon that does push-ups on your shoulder. Yawn. It has to be more than that.”

“Like a secret,” Liv said.

“A secret?” Imogen paused, her fingers tapping her paddle. “Interesting. But risky. No, it just has to be something special you can show hints of, even when you’re not talking. And also, like, something people can identify with.”

Liv tried to guess what the teenager’s unique-but-relatable thing might be. Nail biting? A constellation of freckles in the shape of a Nativity scene? Maybe Imogen recorded all her videos while holding a handstand.

“Mine is radical honesty,” Imogen offered.

“Excuse me?”

“Most influencers are positive about everything. They have these big grins and permanent jazz hands, like, ‘Oh wow! I can’t wait to use this juicy melon lip liner every single day!’ But people know that’s fake. And if they’re going to actually follow your recommendations, they deserve to know if a bronzer smells like old cheese. My thing is that I tell you exactly what I think.”

“Don’t you lose sponsors that way?” Mandy asked.

“I worried about that at first, but it turns out some of the most critical videos I make go viral. Those brands get huge visibility, and they don’t care if I tell the world their hair clip made my scalp bleed. You get enough views, and I guess some people want to get stabbed by their accessories.”

“So your thing is being mean,” Liv said.

“Not mean. Real. And I’m super nice to my followers. It actually came from this book Nana gave me about leadership. It said you should care personally and challenge directly. That’s what I try to do.”

Liv looked over at Lucinda. “You’re mentoring Imogen in this work?”

“Hardly. I gave her the book to inspire her to run for Parliament one day.”

Imogen shook her head. “Nana could be a killer granfluencer. One of those take-no-prisoners old ladies. But she won’t do it.”

“I don’t care for the limelight,” Lucinda said crisply. “Or the internet.”

“Or CareFree?” Mandy asked.

“That remains to be seen.”

Liv regarded the older woman. “If you’re not interested in social media or CareFree . . .”

“Why am I here?” Lucinda said. “I have no interest in this so-called influencing, but I see Imogen’s dedication to her work. Her business savvy. That, I respect. And I’ve always had a fondness for the desert.”

With that, Lucinda took a long swig from her water bottle, adjusted her paddling gloves, and brought her binoculars up to her face.

“I get it now,” Thor said. “Y’all are fans and supporters of the company. And the company leaders are in the other boat.”

“All but one of them,” Lucinda said.

“Until my sister finds her.” Mandy winked.

Liv kept her mouth shut.

“They’re the heavies,” Fiona said. “We’re the help. Which is why we get to enjoy the river while they concern themselves about the whereabouts of our dear leader.”

“You aren’t worried?” Liv asked.