Follow Me Darkly

by HELEN HARDT

  “So do it,” she says. “You’ve flown before.”

  “Inside an airplane. Sure.”

  “What’s the difference? You’re not afraid of heights.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “I’m not afraid of heights. I’m afraid of plummeting to my death from the basket of a hot-air balloon.”

  She laughs. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “Have you ever done it?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then you don’t know.” An idea pops into my head. “You should go with me.”

  She laughs again. “I’d go in a minute, but they haven’t asked me.”

  “I’ll see if I can bring a friend.”

  “Hold on. This is only your second offer. Don’t get a reputation for making unreasonable demands.”

  “What’s unreasonable about wanting my best friend with me?”

  “Just be careful is all I’m saying. The offer could go away if you start asking for favors.”

  “This isn’t black and white, Tess. There are gray areas here. If they want me, they’ll be willing to negotiate.”

  “You don’t even know what they’re offering yet.”

  “Good point. I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”

  I end the call and quickly respond to Tammy, letting her know I’m interested to hear more and giving her my cell phone number.

  Within fifteen minutes, my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello.”

  “Skye Manning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tammy Monroe from New England Adventures.”

  “Hi there. Thank you so much for messaging me.”

  “You’re very welcome. Let me tell you what we’ve got in mind. We want to take you up on one of our hot-air balloons and have you shoot posts from the air. They don’t have to be selfies. We want to show your followers the wonders they can see if they take one of our balloon rides.”

  My heart beats faster. Take actual photos of beautiful scenery? “That sounds great.”

  “Have you ever been in a balloon before?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. It’s a breathtaking experience.”

  “I don’t mean to sound rude, but…it is safe, right?”

  She laughs. “You’re not rude at all. We get that all the time. It’s very safe. All our pilots are certified by the FAA.”

  “The FAA certifies balloon pilots?”

  “They do. They all have balloon pilot licenses, and they err on the side of caution. If there’s any indication that weather could be a factor, they won’t go up.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ve flown before, I assume?”

  “In a large aircraft, yeah.”

  “I promise you that you’ll love our rides.”

  I clear my throat. “If the photos don’t have to be selfies, why do you even need me? Send me the photos and I’ll post them.”

  “Because the experience needs to be authentic.”

  She’s right, of course. If I’m going to be an influencer, I’m going to be authentic. I won’t be Addison, who posts about coffee when she hates it.

  She continues. “We can set you up for a test ride. If it’s truly not your thing and you decide you can’t do the posts, no hard feelings.”

  Test ride. That sounds good. “Would you mind if I bring a friend along?”

  “Not at all. What day works for you?”

  “Anytime. I’m flexible.” Being unemployed certainly gives one flexibility.

  “How about tomorrow? The weather’s supposed to be great. Say about eleven a.m.?”

  “I’m not sure my friend will be able to get off work.”

  “All right. Saturday morning, then? Though of course it will depend on the weather.”

  “I’ll have to check with her.”

  “Sure. Call me back when you know. We’re excited about working with you.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity, Tammy. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  I sigh and lay my phone on my small table. Then I berate myself. I didn’t ask about what they were willing to pay me for the posts. Braden would no doubt want to give me another spanking if he knew I made such a faux pas.

  I’m new at this, for sure, but how could I have forgotten to ask about money?

  This from someone who values control.

  I hastily call Tammy back.

  “Tammy Monroe.”

  “Tammy, Skye Manning.”

  “That was quick!”

  “Yeah, change of plans. I’ll go up tomorrow without my friend, if you’re still amenable to that.”

  “Of course.”

  I clear my throat. Will asking about money ever become easy? “How many posts are you looking for, and what type of compensation can I expect to receive?”

  “We’d like to begin with one post and see how things go. We’re willing to compensate you with the balloon ride, which is a three-hundred-dollar value, plus two thousand dollars on top of that.”

  Hmm. Much lower than the Susanne offer.

  Never take the first offer.

  Wisdom from Braden.

  “I’m afraid that’s too low for me.”

  “You’re new at this, Skye.”

  “I understand that, but I’m a professional photographer and I have a deal with another client for a lot more.”

  “We’re a small operation. We can’t afford to pay what Susanne Cosmetics pays.”

  “Fair enough,” I say, “but I can’t accept less than four thousand dollars for one post.”

  “Two thousand.”

  “Three.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t go higher than two. We just can’t afford it.”

  What would Braden do?

  Hell, I have no idea. Two grand is nothing to him. To me, it’s nearly a month of expenses paid. The day I have Braden’s money is the day I can turn down an offer.

  Unfortunately, that’s not today.

  “All right, Tammy. I’ll take two thousand. Email me the contract.” I provide her with my email address.

  “Wonderful! We’ll see you tomorrow. Eleven sharp.”

  “I’ll be there, and thank you again for this opportunity.”

  Yeah.

  I just agreed to go up in a balloon tomorrow for two thousand dollars.

  I’m officially out of my element.

  Before I contemplate my folly further, someone knocks.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  I open the door. No one is there, but a package lies on the floor. I pick it up and take it inside.

  It’s wrapped in plain brown paper with a note attached. I open the envelope.

  This will go beautifully with your black dress. Wear your hair up and paint your lips red. Bloodred. I’ll pick you up at six.

  No signature, but it’s clearly from Braden.

  I open the package. Inside, nestled on white cotton, lies a black pearl choker. I suck in a breath. The pearls are perfectly round, not knobby like cheap freshwater pearls. It’s gorgeous.

  I pull the pearls from the cotton cloud and hold them up to my face.

  I’m wearing the Cherry Russet lip stain, and it looks good, but bloodred will really pop against all the black, especially if I do a smoky eye.

  How does Braden know that?

  And underneath my dress…the nipple clamps joined by the silver chain.

  Do I wear a bra? Will the clamps show through?

  And why am I worrying about any of this when I may fall out of a balloon tomorrow?

  Before I think further about that, though, I grab my purse and leave my apartment, heading to the mall. I make my way to the Susanne Cosmetics counter. They just paid me ten grand
, so I should throw them some business.

  “May I help you?” a salesgirl asks.

  “Yes, please. I need a bloodred lipstick.”

  “What you have on is very flattering,” she says.

  “This is the Cherry Russet lip stain. It’s my go-to. But I’m attending a gala this weekend and my boyfriend wants me to paint my lips bloodred.”

  “Oooh!” she nearly shrieks. “Sounds exciting! Let me see what we have.” She pulls out a tray of samples and picks one up. “This is the vamp lip stain.”

  I take the sample and try it on the back of my hand. “It’s a little more blackish red. He said bloodred.”

  “Try this.” She hands me another.

  I rub a little next to the vamp. It’s less black but still too dark. I read the label. New York Heat. Interesting. I’m about ready to open a vein to show her what color blood actually is, but she hands me another.

  “This one is called Hotshot. It’s probably not dark enough, but give it a try.”

  I spread a line of Hotshot on the back of my hand next to the other two. We have a winner. “This is perfect.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. Blood is red. A piercing red with a slight tinge of blue.”

  “Hmm. You’re right. How do you know so much about color?”

  “I’m a photographer. Color is my business.”

  “Interesting. Do you want to take one of these, then?”

  “This is lipstick. Do you have a similar color in the lip stain? I’d rather not have to constantly reapply.”

  “Let me see.” She pulls out some lip stain samples and hands me one. “This is probably the closest.”

  The sample is called Night on the Town. At first glance, it looks bloodred, but the real test is what it looks like on me. “Do you have some lip stain remover? I’ll try this one on my lips.”

  “Sure. Here you go.” She hands me a sample and a cotton ball.

  I quickly remove the Cherry Russet and apply the Night on the Town.

  Oh yeah. Bloodred at its finest. I can see why Braden requested it. On my fair skin and against the black dress and pearls, my lips will be a focal point.

  “I’ll take a tube of this one,” I say.

  “Absolutely. Anything else?”

  “I’m good for now. Thanks.”

  She rings me up, and I leave the mall, bloodred lips and all. I get more than a few glances as I make my way home. Suddenly, I’m fearless. Who knew bloodred lips were so potent? I’ll definitely be wearing this lip stain on my balloon ride.

  When I return home, the contract is waiting in my inbox. I read through it quickly. Braden’s not here to consult, and I don’t want him berating me for doing a post for so little money, so I read through it myself. Pretty straightforward. I sign it electronically and send it back to Tammy.

  Only to get an email almost instantaneously.

  Hi, Skye,

  Seems we need to cancel your balloon flight tomorrow. I misspoke when I said we had availability. I’ve penciled you in for Monday, same time. Let me know if this doesn’t work.

  I quickly email her back to say it’s fine, and I’m relieved. Now I don’t have to deal with the balloon ride just yet. Monday will give me a chance to read up on hot-air ballooning so I know better what to expect.

  I check my Susanne post. Still all good. I now have nearly a thousand comments. Addie gets a thousand comments in the first hour, not the first twenty-four, but I’m new at this. I never got into it to overtake her. Still, though, out of curiosity, I go to her profile.

  A new post pops up.

  It’s a selfie, slightly blurry, so she must have taken it herself.

  Ecstatic that I’ll be going up in a hot-air balloon tomorrow! @newenglandadventures #sponsored #takingtothesky #ballooning

  My jaw drops.

  This can’t even be real. How did she know about my deal with New England Adventures? Is this why Tammy canceled my ride for tomorrow? And why I haven’t received the countersigned contract yet? #takingtothesky? Tammy called my campaign “Skye Takes to the Sky.”

  This all seems too convenient.

  I pace around my apartment. What to do? I won’t call Addison. I could call Tammy, but I won’t. I’ll never beg for a job, and I won’t ask her to tell me whether she and Addie have been in contact. I’m a professional, and I can’t risk getting a bad reputation in the business. I absolutely will not be a whiner.

  Think positive, Skye. For all I know, Addison will go up in a balloon and attempt to take the photos herself, which means they’ll suck. Once Tammy sees my photos, she’ll know who better represents her company. Except that Addie is a known influencer and has way more followers than I do. Plus, she may hire a pro to take the photos.

  I draw in a deep breath.

  Addie can easily be bluffing, and even if she’s not, I refuse to let this get to me. I will always stay focused. I’ll look on the bright side. Even if my contract with Tammy falls through, the positive is that I won’t have to go up in a hot-air balloon.

  Oh…but think of the gorgeous photos of the quaint New England countryside I could take.

  Now I want this contract more than ever.

  I check my inbox.

  Still no word from Tammy and no countersigned contract.

  I sigh and check my watch. Five thirty. Good. Time for a Wild Turkey. No reason to be concerned. In two days, Braden will be back, and I’ll go to the gala on his arm.

  And after the gala, I’ll give him my control.

  …

  I needn’t have worried. The next morning I wake to three Instagram messages, all from local establishments asking me to post on their behalf. None of them is a big corporate company like Susanne, but I don’t mind starting small. I contact each one and make arrangements. These are all smaller deals, between five hundred and two thousand dollars, but I take them all and don’t negotiate. Bam. I’ve made another four thousand dollars, and two of the posts I can do today.

  I catch another yoga class and take a quick selfie afterward.

  Who loves yoga? I do! Check out the relaxing atmosphere at Wildflower Yoga. #yoga #treatyourself #youknowyouwanto

  I’m not getting paid for this one, but within a few minutes I already have more than a hundred likes and fifty comments. Unreal. I shower, change, and then head to the bakery to do a post.

  Yes, the bakery with the erotic cakes. I’m a frequent shopper there—love their baguettes—so that’s what I choose to pose with.

  Need bread? Check out Le Grand Pain! Best baguettes around! (And if you need a special cake for your bachelor/bachelorette function, LGP can hook you up!) @LeGrandPain #sponsored #bakery #bread #baguettes #getyourglutenon #breadisgoodfood #soiscake

  I leave a thou richer along with three freshly baked baguettes.

  Not bad for a half hour’s work.

  I’m beginning to like this influencing thing, even if Braden is the only reason anyone cares what I think. I did a little research last night on what influencers can expect to be paid. Turns out Addie gets a lot more than most influencers, so the fact that I scored $10K from Susanne is quite a coup.

  I’m hungry, and there’s a little café near the harbor I’ve been wanting to try. I hop on the T, and twenty minutes later I exit the station and immerse myself in the harbor area.

  This is the beauty I see lit up at night from Braden’s window. In a strange way, I feel his building watching me as I walk down a side street. I stop to peruse the antiques in a shop window, and then—

  Betsy’s Bark Boutique.

  Right here, where it always is. I still have Betsy’s money in my purse, so I impulsively open the door and go in. Betsy is helping a customer, so I look at her selection of handmade dog collars while I wait.

  A few minutes later, she approaches. “Hi, Skye.”

 
“Hi, Betsy. I wanted to return your money from the other night.” I hand her the bills. “Braden ended up picking up the entire check.”

  “You came all the way here for that?” she asks.

  “I also came for lunch. I’ve been meaning to try the new deli and café down the street.”

  “Oh, good. I’d hate to think you made a trip just to give me a few dollars.”

  “Why? It’s your money.”

  “You could have easily kept it and I’d never know.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “I’d never do that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Her eyes become glassy, as if she’s looking through me.

  “Betsy? You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she says quietly, eyeing her other customers. “I should apologize to you, for…you know.”

  “For what?”

  “For breaking down in the bathroom. You didn’t need to see that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Just be careful, Skye.”

  “Be careful of what? Braden?”

  She nods.

  “I don’t understand. Everything the man does is scrutinized by the press and the public. He hasn’t had a tiny blemish on his record in the last ten years. How am I supposed to believe he’s bad news, as Addie says, when the worst thing I’ve read about him is that he’s a womanizer?”

  “Isn’t that bad enough?”

  My heart speeds up a little. “He’s not the first billionaire who likes women, and as long as he’s faithful to me while we’re together, I don’t see why it should matter.”

  “He’s faithful to you?”

  “We haven’t been together long, but yeah, so far he is.”

  She clears her throat. “Addison came into the shop this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t want me talking to you.”

  “Why shouldn’t you talk to me?”

  “She’s all uptight about you and your new Instagram posts. She’s being weird. I haven’t seen her like this since…” She shakes her head.

  “Since when?”

  Betsy shakes her head. “Nothing. If you’re not going to buy anything, I need you to leave, Skye.”