Ki$$ & $ell

KI$$ & $ELL: Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

We were back in another waiting room—same deal, different network—and I was frantically getting dressed for my second TV appearance of the day. We hadn’t had to wait long for the car they’d sent over once Mom had called them back and told them we’d do the show. As we made our way across town though, I realized we had a problem. In a world where celebrities never wore the same outfit twice, it would be embarrassing to make two public appearances while wearing the same thing. So, before heading into the studio, we ran into the nearest store and picked out a different top to go with my jeans.

            Presto change-o!

            Fifteen minutes later, I was ripping the tags off my new pink shirt—I figured hot pink would stand out on TV—and slipping it over my head. Admiring my quick change in the mirror, I plopped down in an empty white chair and started to pull my hair back into a ponytail.

            “I can’t believe we’re going to be on You Snooze, You Lose!” McCartney squealed as she clapped her hands excitedly.

            “We’re not going to be on the show. I’m going to be on the show,” I said as I studied my reflection.

            “Same dif,” McCartney answered.

            “Not exactly. You’ll be back here where you’re safe from making a fool of yourself in front of millions of people.”

            I fished my cell out of my pocket as I felt it buzzing and read an incoming text.

            I SO hate you right now for going on SNOOZE without me! Can you ask Big Johnson how he could break up with his super-hot girlfriend? Is he insane? Good luck, A!

            “McCartney?” I asked slowly, looking up from my phone.

            “Yeah?”

            “How does Phin know that I’m gonna be on You Snooze, You Lose?”

            McCartney instantly looked guilty. “I don’t know.”

            “McCartney…”

            “Okay, okay. Maybe he found out because I tweeted about it while you were in H&M?” she answered sheepishly.

            “McCartney!” I screeched. “You know I don’t like that whole social media stuff. Nobody needs to know what I’m doing every single moment of every single day. It’s like we’re creating a world of voyeuristic gossip-mongers. And trust me, no good will come of it.”

            McCartney looked at me bored as I rattled on. “Okay, first off, I don’t even know what that means, but I hardly think that Twitter is the root of all evil. Second…you’re in the public eye now! And that public is going to want to know what you’re doing,” she said, taking out her phone and punching on the keys furiously. “So, I started a Twitter account for you.”

            “McCartney,” I growled, sending a glare her way.

            “You won’t even have to worry about it. I’ll take care of everything,” she insisted.

            That was what worried me.

            Before I could force her to delete the profile, a young guy popped his head into the room to let me know that I had five minutes until my segment. Once gone, I turned back to the mirror to make a few touch-ups to my makeup and then smoothed my hair back with my hands. In the reflection, I could see McCartney looking at me expectantly, her hands on her hips, waiting for some kind of response from me. I sighed and spun around to face her.