Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole Page 0,2
the videos and try to distract him. How often he mentioned his grandmother. His love of crunching on shrimp chips like his mic wasn’t picking up the sound, how he’d gone to school for architecture and been in between jobs. He’d also had a really nice mouth, not that it mattered. So he wasn’t a stranger, but she’d let herself turn his voice into a necessity, and now she was paying for it.
What if he says no?
She didn’t do panic—not since awakening in a hospital unable to move or talk all those years ago. She’d survived a brain virus and rebuilding her motor skills—she knew she could overcome most things life threw her way, so panic was a waste of time. But when insomnia came, it brought along its little friend anxiety, and Reggie needed to snuff them both out, NOW. So of course she had to email Kakuro and offer him money for recordings of his voice, so that she was never put in this position again. Of course, she’d used a years-old online handle and not her real name, which would reveal her business dealings and, eventually, her family wealth.
Problem solving with a side of common sense.
She dropped her head, reached out a hand that was shaking more than usual, and tapped the send button on the touch screen of her laptop.
There, it was done.
She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension, then switched over to the video recording software on her laptop because there was work to do and it didn’t matter if her brain felt like lumpy grits. Her bullet journal list for the day had ten items, and at least five of those things couldn’t be put off.
Her own face stared back at her in HD—golden-brown skin, short rust-red kinky coils, large plastic-rimmed glasses that kind of hid the dark circles under her eyes. She wasn’t glamorous like Portia, but Reggie was cute. She’d throw a filter on it afterward, anyway.
She pressed Record.
“Hey, Lunettes! Check out what I got in the mail!” She unlocked the wheel brakes on her chair and backed up so that her office was visible and viewers could see the life-size Reject Squad Ultra cardboard cutout that she’d received from the show’s PR team. “I have not one, but two of these babies, and even though I ship PhilRora hard enough to keep both, I am a magnanimous fangirl. That means one of you can get in on this! Swipe up to enter to win on the site, and don’t forget to share on social media!”
She wheeled back to her desk and quickly clipped the video, uploaded it to InstaPhoto, and threw a filter on it before pasting the text she’d typed up earlier and adding a link. She then shared the fact that the video was up over all her other social media sites so that people who didn’t follow her on InstaPhoto would head over there.
She’d always been savvy, having grown up at the knee of two successful real estate investors and spent her formative years lurking in the comments and forums of various fandom sites, but this “being open” stuff still felt unnatural to her. It was something Portia had coached her on, and her twin was pretty damn good at putting her best face forward, even if she was bad at basics like calling Reggie regularly.
She’s improving.
She grabbed her phone to text Portia a reminder about turning in the next “GirlsWithGlasses: Travel” piece, but a text from her sister was already waiting.
Portia: Hey, I’ve been watching those Hot Mess Helper videos you sent. Thanks. I feel a little less . . . messy. Still hot, though.
The videos, designed for people with ADHD, had helped Reggie, too. She’d been pegged by everyone as the good, productive, and successful twin, but A LOT of work went into that, work that had nothing to do with physical disability and had everything to do with figuring out how her brain worked best. Reggie hadn’t shared her own struggles with anyone, but she’d thrown the clearly floundering Portia the videos as a lifeline. She was glad to hear they’d helped her sister, who she was more like than anyone suspected.
Portia: Anyway, I’ll be sending my next travel piece in a couple of days. Been a bit overwhelmed here with the whole secret duke thing, and we’re going to have to make sure this drops before tabloids get a hold of this. Are you up for breaking the story on your site?
Reggie: Oooo,