The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,24

with us. Nothing is going to piss a sponsor off quicker than you shopping at their competitor, so we need to make sure that there is a purpose for all actions.”

“This is Edwin.” Vidal chimed in. “He’s in charge of your social media presence, branding, messaging, and calendar coordination.”

Edwin beamed at me. “Don’t worry, I’m only a hard ass when you mess up.”

“Okay. So…” I set my bag down on the table. “Do we meet weekly? Or what? How does this work?”

Dion and Edwin gave each other a look, and Edwin trilled out a laugh. “Oh, honey, you’re so fresh. No, we basically live here now. Your life is ours.”

“Not in like a creepy, we want your lifestyle way,” Dion drawled. “More like, you’re turning over every aspect of YOU”—she made a hand motion that encompassed my entire body—“to us.”

It should have irritated me, but I craved the turnover. Everywhere around me, I saw what I didn’t have. Spotless exteriors of lives full of love, travel, and money. I couldn’t even get a table without Vidal’s help, couldn’t get a post to attract more than a thousand likes, and was beginning to see my investment in myself and my fame as the shallow and pointless fantasies of an ugly and uninteresting girl.

“From now on,” Edwin said. “Everything is going to be different.”

He was right. Bringing them on brought everything to a different level. They were expensive and horrible and invasive as hell, but they knew the three F’s better than anyone. When Danica Franks left rehab, I doubled their paychecks to keep them with me. I needed them, even if I hated them for it.

“With all the attention on Emma Blanton, it seems crazy that she could have had any secrets. But she did. Twice a week, for four hours, no one knew where she was. And no one noticed it, for a really long time. Even her team. Someone like Emma is assumed to sleep until the middle of the day, not be driving down to Outlier Ranch at six in the morning.”

Rob Presley, Just Jarad

28

#sohappy

I sat on the floor of the gym, my legs splayed open, and rolled the basketball toward Wesley, who mimicked my pose fifteen feet down the court. He watched it approach, then captured it with his hands. “This is a baby game,” he complained.

“Yeah, well—I’m an old lady.” I nodded to the group of four at the other end of the court. “You can go play with them if you want. I’ll be your cheering section.”

He didn’t reply, just spun the ball in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

He rolled it back to me and stayed silent.

“Is it Becky?” His courtship had gone well, according to Monica at the front desk. She and Wesley were eating lunch together every day and holding hands when they thought the staff wasn’t watching.

“Not Becky.” He beckoned with his hands. “Bounce it.”

I gave it a careful and low bounce, one that he missed. I waited as he chased the ball down, waved at a boy he knew, and then returned back, his focus on bouncing the ball for a few times before he sank back down to the polished floor.

“So, what is it?”

“Big brother,” he said sullenly.

Ah. I struggled, as I always did when he brought up Cash, with what to say. I needed Wesley in my life, but I understood that, at some point, Cash might discover this secret. When he did, I’d lose visitation and volunteer privileges at the Ranch. It was a thought that filled me with an unnatural amount of anxiety, an emotion that increased the closer I grew to Wesley.

I was lucky that the staff at the Ranch was mostly ancient adults who barely knew what Twitter was. Add that to the fact that my glammed up internet persona was a far cry from my make-up-free natural look, and I’d be shocked if one of my followers ever recognized me in my volunteer garb. I pushed the anxiety to one side and sighed. “What’s wrong with your brother?”

“He got mad at me on the phone.”

Anger ticked in my chest. “Over what?”

He laid back on the floor and laced his fingers together over his chest. “He didn’t come this week.”

Oh. I scooted closer to him, moving until the toes of my sneakers hit his side. “Wesley, listen to me. He’s out of town. He can’t come.”

I knew, because he was on the RedBull Tour, MCing to sold-out arenas each night, his social media feeds filled with