Follow Me Always

by HELEN HARDT

  But first…

  I need to go back to where I began.

  Kansas.

  I have to go home.

  Before I make any further plans, though…how about a bedhead selfie? Just a personal post to show followers the real me, because that’s my new focus. The real Skye. Not Braden Black’s girlfriend. Simply Skye.

  And another Bingo! I just created a new hashtag. #simplyskye

  I rise and walk to my window, letting the sun stream onto me. I hold my phone and train the camera on my face, moving until the rays hit me just right, making my skin glow. My eyelids and lips have returned to their normal size, and in the sunlight I look…good. Not gorgeous or anything, but good, as if the dawn of a new day has healed me.

  Am I healed?

  No.

  But I do feel better. Morning has that effect on me.

  I snap a selfie, do a few minor edits, and post.

  Bedhead! Nothing better than the dawn of a new day. #feelingbetter #embracethenewday #simplyskye

  Time for coffee. I head to the kitchen, start a pot, and then fire up my laptop at the table to check email.

  My stomach plummets.

  A message from Eugenie sits in bold print in the middle of my screen. It seems to pulse, making it stand out from the other new messages.

  I brace myself and click on it.

  Good morning Skye,

  Congratulations! Your post showcasing our nail polish yesterday got us a record number of comments on the Susanne Corporate Instagram account. What a great idea to use it as a way to feel better when you’re having a down day. We’ve been inundated with requests to change the name of the color to The Power of Pink. While that’s not feasible, given the fact that we’ve already manufactured an abundance of the shade with the original packaging, we’d like to bring you back to New York to discuss the creation of a new shade. Your background in art and photography makes you an expert in color, and we really want your input. Please let me know your availability. The sooner the better!

  Fondly,

  Eugenie

  My mouth drops open.

  Nothing about my shitty post from two days ago? And already, within sixteen hours, people are clamoring to change the name of the nail polish?

  And this all happened in the time since Braden broke up with me?

  Of course, that’s not common knowledge yet.

  Maybe…

  Just maybe…it won’t matter.

  I need to get my bearings. I’m poised to respond to Eugenie right away, but I stop myself. The coffee’s done, and I need to think about how to approach this. My first instinct is to write her back and tell her how excited I am, which is true. But I need to think it all through.

  I sigh.

  I should tell her about Braden and me.

  It’s a risk, yes.

  But she needs to know.

  I’m under contract, and I’ll be paid for four months regardless. I can find alternate employment in that time if they choose to drop me.

  I must be honest and up front, and I shouldn’t do it in an email.

  I need to call Eugenie.

  I take a sip of coffee and stare at my laptop screen. I flip through the rest of my emails, hoping I’ll find one from Braden.

  I don’t.

  It’s really over.

  I stop the tears that threaten to well in my eyes. I can’t become a slobbering mass of emotions again. Not today. Not when I’m trying to prove I don’t need Braden to do my job.

  I rise and head to the bathroom, where I turn on my shower. I enter, and as the warm water pelts over my body, I close my eyes and inhale the fragrant steam. I’m still slightly congested from my power sobbing yesterday, and the steam therapy helps.

  After my shower, I towel off and don a robe.

  Then back to my email.

  Still nothing from Braden.

  Not that I expected anything. Just hoped.

  Hope is a good thing, right?

  So…two things require my consideration. First, Eugenie. This is my livelihood, and it requires my attention.

  Second…me. I must ask myself the question Braden asked me, which means beginning with a trip home.

  I switch to my phone.

  Already my bedhead post is blowing up!

  My post that has nothing to do with Susanne Cosmetics and Eugenie.

  Which makes me realize where my attention must be focused.

  I can’t do my best job if I’m floundering, and right now, I’m lost. Sure, I’m creative enough that I figured out a way around my swollen eyes and lips yesterday, but none of that helped me to get where I need to be.

  I pull up my travel app and book a flight home to Kansas that leaves two days from now.

  Home is where I’ll begin this journey.

  Chapter Five

  Next…Eugenie.

  I inhale a deep breath. I have to tell her my circumstances have changed. It’s only fair. I quickly punch in her number.

  “Susanne Corporate,” a woman answers.

  “Eugenie Blake, please. This is Skye Manning.”

  “Just a moment, Ms. Manning. I’ll see if she’s in.”

  More seconds that seem like hours. Time standing still seems to have become part of my life now, and it pretty much sucks.

  “Good morning, Skye!”

  I gather what little courage I can find. “Hi, Eugenie.”

  “I assume you got my email.”

  “I did. I’m so glad the post is doing well.”

  “Much better than we’d hoped, considering it’s only your second post.”

  The first one sucked.

  She doesn’t say it, but I hear it in her tone. Should I mention it?

  Hell, no.

  The words are in Braden’s voice, and he’s right. Why should I bring up something negative if she’s not going to? That’d be ridiculous.

  “Thank you,” I say simply.

  “What’s your schedule? Can you fly back to New York next week?”

  “I just booked a trip home to Kansas for Sunday,” I tell her. “I suppose I could fly to New York tonight and meet with you tomorrow. But tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “That’s no problem,” she says. “We work around the clock here. I haven’t worked less than a sixty-hour week in years.”

  I clear my throat. “All right. I can rearrange my flight home and fly from New York to Wichita on Sunday.”

  “I’d be happy to have my assistant make the arrangements for you,” she said. “Especially since it’s so last minute.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I say, “but there’s something else we should discuss first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s… Well, my circumstances have changed.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m no longer…” I sigh. God, Skye, just spit it out. “I’m no longer seeing Braden Black.”

  Silence.

  Again those seconds that pass like hours. Do I enter some kind of time warp when I’m waiting for bad news?

  Finally, Eugenie says, “I’ll have to run this by the VP of marketing, but I’m not sure it changes anything.”

  “How can it not?”

  “Your following has grown exponentially since you started influencing. Yes, it took Braden to get you going, but you have huge potential to grow on your own.”

  “I do?”

  “You do. You know what? I’m not going to bother Elaine with this. She’s the VP of marketing. The company is bound for the first four months under your contract, so let’s give it a try. If your growth taps out and we’re not generating sales, we won’t exercise our option under the contract. It’s that simple.”

  Admittedly, it does sound simple enough. Four grand per week is peanuts to a company
like Susanne. If Braden were here, he’d tell me to jump on that wagon and never look back.

  But Braden’s not here.

  Eugenie is giving me a shot—a shot I should welcome. I may fail, but it’s not set in stone. It’s only a given if I don’t try.

  “Skye? You still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “You have to know we took this into consideration before we offered you the deal. Braden Black has never been in a serious relationship that anyone’s aware of, so of course your breakup was a possibility that we considered.”

  “And still you chose to work with me?” Damn. That inflection again.

  “We did. You’re the ideal face for this new line. You’re beautiful, but you’re also approachable. You’re the perfect Susie Girl. Plus, your photos are wonderful. You’re quite a talent, Skye.”

  I warm all over. Ha! Who needs Braden Black?

  I scoff silently. I do. I need him. I need my puppy. I need…

  Another silent scoff. Such self-indulgence. He’s gone, and I still have a contract. Eugenie is giving me a chance, and I need to take it and run.

  “You still want me to come to New York, then?” Damn! Stop it with the inflection already!

  “Of course. Shaylie is already putting together a presentation, and our design team is fleshing out the color. I’ll get you booked on a flight tonight. Will that work for you?”

  “Yeah, that will be great. Thank you, Eugenie.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll take care of your flights and I’ll email you the details as soon as we get everything scheduled.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you.”

  After ending the call, I walk to the bathroom and gaze at my reflection. Bedhead. Such bedhead. And still, Susanne wants me. Is it because they’re stuck with me for four months under the contract? Or is it because they truly want me?

  And a light shines in me.

  Because it doesn’t matter. The answer to that question doesn’t matter, because the result is the same.

  I have four months to prove myself. Four months to become the best influencer out there. To take photographs. To show the world my art. To show the world who I am.

  I’ll do it, damn it.

  And while I’m doing it, maybe I’ll show myself.

  …

  No private jet this time, but Eugenie booked me in first class. The larger seats are nice, and the flight attendants are obsequious. I actually get offered a drink before we even take off. Seems silly, as I’ll have all of ten minutes to drink it before I have to give it back, so I decline.

  After the short flight, I grab my luggage at baggage claim and spy a driver dressed in black, holding a sign that says Manning.

  I approach him. “I’m Skye Manning.”

  “Good evening, Ms. Manning. I’ll be driving you to your hotel.”

  My hotel. The Marriott Marquis in Times Square. Funny. I’ve been to New York twice now, and I haven’t done any of the tourist things. No Empire State Building. No Ground Zero. No Statue of Liberty. No Met. No buying a hot dog from a street vendor.

  I won’t have time for any of that this time around, either, as I’ll be meeting with Eugenie tomorrow and then flying home to Kansas the next day, which is Sunday.

  Oh, well.

  My driver drops me off and hands my bag to me. Do I tip him? I have no idea. I don’t have any cash on me anyway, so it’s a moot point. I simply thank him profusely, hope Eugenie’s assistant added a generous tip, and then I make a mental note never to travel without stopping at the ATM first.

  It’s already dark outside, and I’m tired. One good thing about this spur of the moment trip to New York, I haven’t had a lot of time to ruminate on Braden and how things went so terribly wrong.

  Once I’m in my room, though, the thoughts come roaring in like a tidal wave. He invades me, and I know I’ll never be free of him.

  Why?

  Because I don’t want to be free of him.

  I love him.

  What’s more? He loves me. He admits it. How do you give up someone you love who loves you back?

  Clearly, it’s easier for him than it is for me.

  But is it?

  I sigh.

  I don’t know. He hides so many of his emotions. I honestly don’t know what he’s feeling about our breakup.

  What I do know, though, is that Braden is a doer. He translates thoughts into action, so maybe that’s what I need to do as well.

  Tomorrow, I’ll wow Eugenie and her team, make them realize they’re right to take a chance on me.

  Then, on Sunday, I’ll go home. Back to where it all began for me.

  And somehow, I’ll find the answer to Braden’s question.

  Chapter Six

  The same driver who picked me up from the airport drives me to Susanne Corporate. I’m dressed to the nines—in clothes I purchased myself this time. As I packed yesterday, I yearned for Tessa’s input. I couldn’t wear the same thing I wore at the last meeting with Eugenie and her staff, so I had to make do. I finally decided on simple black pants and pumps with a burgundy silk top that shows a tiny amount of cleavage. My makeup is pure Susie Girl of course, including the mood lip plumper I considered using for a previous post.

  Turns out it’s a simple, dark dusty-rose, which will look good on almost any complexion. Nicely done, Susanne.

  “Thanks,” I tell the driver when he drops me off at the building in Manhattan. Shit, I add to myself. I forgot to hit the ATM for tip money.

  I’m on edge as I walk into the building.

  Addison is here. I can feel her. She’s going to be in the office, like she always is. And she’ll give me some snide comment about nipple clamps or a butt plug.

  Ha! The joke’s on her.

  Braden and I are over, and there’s nothing new she can taunt me with.

  Except the breakup itself, of course.

  I breathe in deeply. Exhale. Get with it, Skye. Eugenie believes in you. Now you need to believe in yourself.

  I check in with security, head to the elevators, and press the up button. I brush my hands over my arms, trying to ease the chills that erupt on my flesh.

  She’s going to be in my face when the elevator opens.

  The bell rings and the doors open, and I know she’ll be there. I just know—

  The inside of the elevator is empty as I walk in and exhale slowly in relief.

  Chills erupt again as I ascend.

  The doors open—

  No Addie.

  Okay. Two down. A hundred bucks says she’s talking to Lisa at reception again.

  But as I glance through the clear glass doors, I see no sign of her.

  Still the chills. She’s probably in the back with Eugenie.

  I approach the reception desk. “Hi, Lisa.”

  Lisa’s eyes glow with recognition. “Ms. Manning, nice to see you again.”

  “Please, call me Skye.”

  “Of course. Do you have an appointment with Eugenie today?”

  “I do.” I look up at the clock above Lisa’s desk. “In five minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll let her know you’re here. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  God, no, I might barf. “I’m fine. Thanks.” I take a seat on one of the chairs in the reception area, and then I dart my gaze toward every corner, waiting for Addie to emerge.

  Instead, Eugenie appears, looking sleek and professional as always in a light green suit, her short gray hair styled to perfection. I rise.

  “Skye!” She takes my hand in a firm grip. “So great to see you! Come on back.”

  She leads me to the same conference room where Shaylie, Brian, and Louisa wait. They all smile when I walk in.

  “Hi,” I say, trying not to sound nervous.

  “This won’t take
long,” Eugenie says. “Shaylie has put together a PowerPoint on our social media marketing plan for the new Power of Pink Susie Girl nail polish. Brian will take you through the numbers. But what we’re really here for is to decide on the actual color.”

  I smile. “I appreciate you allowing me to have input on the shade.”

  “Absolutely. You came up with the name, and you have a keen understanding of color. We definitely want your opinion.”

  Shaylie and Brian make their presentations, and as Eugenie promised, they’re quick and entertaining.

  Louisa, the intern, speaks up, her voice commanding but slightly wavering. “I’ve put together some samples of colors that are different from what Susie Girl is currently offering. I hope you like them.”

  “I’m sure they’re all lovely,” I say.

  Louisa distributes color swatches to all of us. “I thought about putting these into a PowerPoint, but you just don’t get the vibrancy of the colors that way.”

  “I totally agree.” I flip through the ten swatches. “They’re all beautiful.”

  “I agree,” Eugenie says. “Skye, which one do you like best?”

  “It’s still hard to say without seeing how the polish looks on an actual nail. It might change a little. Color can be funny.”

  Shaylie nods. “You’re so right. I’ve bought nail color and lip color in the past that looks amazing in the package, but when I get home it looks terrible on me.”

  I nod. “There are certain shades, though, that flatter almost everyone.”

  “Definitely,” Eugenie says. She flips through the swatches, throwing three into the center of the table. “For me, it’s these three.”

  Her choices are on point. “You have an excellent eye for color.”

  She smiles. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment. Thank you.”

  I throw one more into the pile. “I’d add this one. It’s a little more neutral but still quite vibrant.”

  “Shaylie?” Eugenie asks.

  “I’d throw in this one.” She tosses a neon pink into the mix.

  It’s a beautiful color, but it won’t work on all skin tones. I don’t say anything, though. It’s not really my place.

  “Brian?” Eugenie asks.

  Brian’s cheeks flush. “I’m just a numbers guy.”