Influence

Chapter 10

In the hours before the sun set behind Los Angeles' jigsaw skyline, Shay had no intention of paying Bacall Tower a visit. That was a private space, almost sacred, the way she saw it. She'd spent years sticking mainly to public spaces, rarely getting closer to the tower than across the street and two buildings down. She'd hang out at an outdoor café, thumbing through her phone or a magazine as she waited for a sighting. Or she'd go to restaurants and clubs and bars, but only after the fact. These were places no one would consider odd, and it wasn't illegal either, what she was doing. Mostly not. There were times when she'd crossed lines, sure, but no one realized it. Since that was the case, the line seemed arbitrary anyways.

Shay liked to be discrete and she'd promised her roommate Deirdre she wouldn't do anything stupid today, which was why she chose to spend this evening in Runyon Canyon Park, along with a large handful of other perfectly discrete and non-stupid Angelenos. Goldie loved that park. She'd filmed three live feeds and an EpiGold from the same sloping outlook Shay now stood upon. Deirdre liked Goldie well enough, but she didn't get Shay's "rabid interest" in the popular influencer. She considered stanning to be toxic and avoided being drawn into any Goldie-related conversation Shay tried to engage her in.

Deirdre couldn't have faulted her for enjoying a bit of fresh air and exercise, though. She didn't have to know Shay chose to hike along those pathways not to connect with nature but to further connect with Goldie.

She took a few dozen pictures of herself with the view of the valley behind her, the downtown skyline a dusty mirage beyond that. She stood off to the side to let others pass as she chose the best one, selfie stick aimed downward to miss the scar under the right side of her jaw and to capture where the tanned skin of her bared belly curved in what she felt was a beguiling and feminine way. She posted it to her followers and said a brief prayer of thanks. She had followers because Goldie had followers. She couldn't forget where she'd come from or to whom she owed this debt of gratitude. Everything she did was for Goldie. Everything was because of Goldie.

The view behind her appeared as it had the last time Goldie recorded here six weeks ago. She hashtagged her photo #GoldieGirl01Tour, and mentioned a few features about her surroundings (an openness, a sense of place within a wide expanse), why Goldie liked the spot (everyone brought their dogs here and she loved dogs!), and what Goldie had last talked about when she was there. This was to benefit all Goldie Girls and Guys, but especially those who didn't live in SoCal and had probably never heard of Runyon Canyon. That was Shay's mission: unite Goldie's fans and turn them into stans. Goldie deserved the best stans, and that meant that they didn't merely adore Goldie's beauty and talent, it meant they understood her. Shay could make them understand. That's what she was good at doing. Her rising follower count proved it.

When you studied someone's life as Shay had studied Goldie's, you learned a lot about what lay underneath someone's makeup. Not her literal makeup—when Goldie did #NoFilterFriday, she appeared just as beautiful au naturel. Underneath the influencer, though, underneath the burgeoning cosmetics empress and model—the person, the human, the living goddess—that was what most Goldie Girls missed.

Shay missed nothing.

Shay knew things no one else did about Goldie Finch, some of which she would never share with Goldie's other fans. For instance, Goldie wore a purple wig styled like Uma Therman's hair in Pulp Fiction when she wanted to walk around without anyone recognizing her. Shay had also learned about the corner store she frequented late at night when her house was void of staff and she wanted Reeces' peanut butter cups—something she wouldn't admit to anyone that she ate. These were Goldie's secrets, and they were Shay's too. Sacred secrets, like Bacall Tower, where Goldie lived.

Shay knew things. Shay missed nothing. It was a lot of work, being Goldie Finch's number one admirer. She was sure that if Goldie ever found out what Shay did, she wouldn't mind. Still, she went through great pains to stay in the shadows, like a private eye on a stake out that lasted the duration of a person's life. Someday, she imagined meeting Goldie at an awards ceremony. Not the Emmys or the Oscars or Grammys. An award ceremony for people like Shay. For the super fans of super celebrities. Shay would wear a backless gown that clung to her midriff and fanned out at the bottom. It would be gold, of course, for Goldie. Goldie would call her name and she'd rise from her seat, mouth agape, hand to the base of her throat.

Me? Really, me?

She'd step up to the stage without tripping over her dress and then there she'd be, next to her idol, who would hand her a trophy and congratulate her, then stand back and slightly off to the side to listen to Shay's acceptance speech.

"This is your moment," she'd whisper to Goldie. "You've made me a star and now you deserve to be one too. Shine!"

Afterwards, as they exited stage left together, Goldie would bend her elegant neck towards Shay and say, "All those years and I never understood how much you did for me. That's real commitment."

She envisioned the afterparty as she hiked the short distance back to her car, taking sips of water every few minutes. Goldie always emphasized the importance of hydration. Keeps your skin elastic, your lips plump. By the time she reached the parking lot, Shay had decided she needed her own afterparty. The sun had officially set, but enough light remained to see the world in black and white, only hints of browns and orange to offset the stark contrasts.

She opened her trunk and placed her backpack into it. Goldie's enigmatic face beamed up to her from the cover of the On Their Way magazine she'd tossed there this morning. She'd read Goldie's interview three times since purchasing it yesterday. Goldie talking about her fitness routine (yoga, kickboxing), her diet (put celery in everything), and what she wanted most in the world (for everyone to be the best version of themselves). She ran a fingertip over the glossy image. Something had been keeping Shay from being her best version. Her best version strutted across a stage in a golden gown. Her best version received a cylindrical trophy in honor of her commitment and loyalty.

Commitment meant missing nothing. It meant stepping onto hallowed ground. A private eye on a stake out. Or, more like a religious adherent on a pilgrimage. It was okay, she realized, provided this secret she shared with Goldie was given the reverence it deserved. Shay, seeking to understand her idol. Shay, leaving incense at the foot of the alter. This was a natural progression. She would, of course, still adhere to boundaries. A fine line could be redrawn. It's not like she was erasing it all together. Shay would never do that.

She got into her car, pressed it on, navigating out of the parking onto Mulholland Drive. The bold outline of Bacall Tower glowed like a beacon in the darkness invading Shay's mind. As church bells herald the beginning of worship, the tower called her to prayer.

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Well, well, well... a new character has emerged. What role do you think Shay (aka GoldieGirl01) will play in this story? I don't know why, but Shay's chapters were the easiest to write. Not sure what that says about me!

Thanks for your continued support. It will never not amaze me that people find my stories and read them. I appreciate you all!