I was a ball of nervous energy over the next few days, and my mind bounced from one thought to another. What if I didn't get the job? What if I couldn't make next week's rent. I couldn't keep relying on the boys to help me. Should I be packing right now? Preparing myself to be kicked to the curb?
But then again, what if I did get the job?
Or what if I got the job, but then couldn't handle it, and then they fired me? I mean, that was definitely a possibility, considering my resume had been pretty exaggerated. Sure, I had a viral fluke once, but that didn't make me a social media marketing goddess!
I found myself wishing that hadn't used up all my mobile data watching YouTube videos, because I could have used it to research marketing tactics instead. But thankfully, being jobless gave me a surprising amount of free time, so I was able to find a spot of free Wi-Fi at a shabby café a few blocks down from my apartment.
Of course, I could have just gone to the library, but that would require spending money on transport, and it was cheaper to just buy a coffee.
It had been nearly a week since I'd gotten fired, and my presence as an internet meme was well and truly doing the rounds. I definitely got noticed on the street on my way down to the café, and as someone who didn't exactly go out of their way to steal the spotlight, it was a strange sensation. One that nearly had me running back to my apartment, locking the door, and hiding under the blankets for the rest of the day.
But once I'd made it to the café, it hadn't been so bad. There was a tiny nook right at the back, and I decided it would be the perfect spot to hide away from the world for a few hours. I ordered my ordinary, almond milk latte— this café wasn't as spectacular as Starbucks, so the options were a little limited— and then turned to go sit at my chosen spot.
Only to find it now occupied.
Drat!
Scanning the room, I grimaced, as the only other spot that seemed to be available was at the bench running along the wide, spacious windows looking out at the street. Grudgingly, I made my way over and sat down on the tiny, wooden stool. For a brief moment, I was too self-conscious to pull out my phone, and just sat there twiddling my thumbs. But eventually, I drew up enough confidence, and convinced myself that nobody would recognise me just sitting here— or care enough to judge me. I mean, what would they even judge me about?
I guess it just felt like I was a loner, sitting here with no friends, trying desperately to educate myself so I could get another job. Which was the reality, but no one else needed to know that.
"It's... Wren, right?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around. Standing there was... Wesley, I think? If I recalled correctly. He was holding that giant duffel bag again, slugging it off his shoulder and dumping it at his feet.
"Uh—um yeah," I stammered quickly, regaining my composure. He sort of grimaced, but it was enough for me to realise he was trying to be friendly.
"What brings you to a place like this?" he mused, fiddling absently with the bag, and pulling out various lenses and a camera. He pulled up a chair from a nearby table and sat down, so we were almost eye level.
"A place like this?" I asked, slightly confused. "You mean... like, a coffee shop?"
He actually laughed at that, while screwing a lens onto the camera.
"No, I mean the slums of LA. Not exactly safe for a young girl like yourself. And especially not someone who's gaining fame and popularity by the day. Even if it's just from a meme."
I quirked an eyebrow. Why did he care?
He raised an eyebrow back at me, and that same, direct look in his eyes that had made me so uncomfortable the first time we'd met sent a shiver down my spine.
"I live down here," I replied calmly. He stopped in his tracks, seeming genuinely surprised.
"You live down here?" he repeated, and I couldn't decide if it was shock or horror on his face. I leaned back and folded my arms.
"Well, not all of us can afford to live in mini-mansions," I replied stiffly, and the expression on his face immediately turned to a frown. I decided to change the topic before he got too offended. "Anyway, what are you doing down here?"
He waved the camera at me.
"Doing some filming for a video. There's an abandoned warehouse nearby. We were just getting some food to go."
"We?" I questioned, and he gestured to the counter. I looked over, and noticed Asher and Connor speaking to the lady manning the till.
"Oh!" I said, not hiding my surprise. "I didn't even notice them."
He made that weird grimace-smile again, letting out a hmph. I watched him put his camera back in the duffel bag, and zip it up.
"Well, I'll see you around then," he said getting to his feet and slinging the bag back over his shoulder.
"Will you?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"I think Connor and Kurt have been waiting for you to call back. It seems likely we'll meet again."
"They are?" I asked, and I felt my cheeks go red. I was starting to sound a little like a broken record. He shrugged.
"I think so. They keep bringing you up, and saying they feel bad," he shrugged, and my face must have still looked confused, because he added, with a pointed expression, "About what happened."
"Right," I said, casting another look in Connor's direction. Asher seemed happier today— he was actually smiling. Still, I couldn't help but think back to that video... to Jade...
"Well, bye," he said, before heading back over to them. Connor turned, and he caught my eye. His eyes widened, and he starting grinning and waving at me. I awkwardly waved back, but Wesley said something to him before he could do anything else. He made a motion at his watch, then at the door, and the three of them grabbed their food and headed out.
I couldn't tell if they genuinely cared, or if the extent of their concern stemmed from purely feeling guilty.
Still, it seemed like I may have made a few friends here in LA after all.
***
I received the call back from LA Beauty Marketing and Management that evening.
I'd been cooking a vegetarian stir fry, with tofu and capsicum, when the sound of my ringtone made me jump and splatter sauce all over the counter. Dropping everything, I lunged for the phone, which was resting on the table.
"Hello!" I blurted.
"Hi, Wren?" Audrey's voice echoed back. "So glad I got a hold of you! We've decided to give you a trial tomorrow. Are you able to make come in?"
My eyes widened with shock, and a crashing wave of relief flooded through me. Quickly followed by anxiety and nerves, but I did my best to suppress that for now.
"Yes! Absolutely!" I said— perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but I couldn't help it.
"Lovely! We'll see you at 8 AM then!" she breezed.
"8 AM. Got it," I replied. Then my face paled. 8 AM? Was there even a bus that would get me there that early?
But before I could say anything, Audrey had bid me goodbye and hung up, leaving me absolutely clueless.
Uh oh.
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh.
I paced for a minute, trying to decide a course of action. It was not ideal to go roaming the streets at the hour, in search of more free Wi-Fi. But I didn't have the mobile data to look up the timetable!
Damn it.
I decided I didn't have a choice. So once I'd finished cooking my stir fry, I scooped it into a plastic container, shoved it in the fridge, then headed out of the apartment and flew down the metal staircase. It was just after 7:30 PM now, and I had no idea if that coffee shop a few blocks down would be open this late.
The streets were roaming with people, and in the dark it was a lot scarier. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, and kept my head down as I walked.
I had to be more organised from now on. First thing tomorrow, I was securing a bus timetable.
A sinking feeling developed in my chest, as I stared at the closed hanging on the door. All of the lights were off inside. I checked my phone, hoping I could access the Wi-Fi from out here, but it was locked now, requiring a password. Drat. What now?
A sense of helplessness overcame me, and I decided to keep walking. There had to be something else. I passed more shops, more alleyways, more people. I kept walking, keeping an eye on my phone, on the list of ever-changing Wi-Fi outlets.
Then, finally, something popped up.
KATIES_KOFFEE
I looked up, scanning the area, and my gaze drifted down a narrow backstreet. I could see it across the street, on the other side— a bright red, neon sign that read Katie's Koffee. And judging from the bustling people inside, it was definitely still open.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I made my way down the backstreet. My feet splashed in a puddle, and I looked down. It was shiny, glimmering and tinged red under the neon lights from the street. Eerie... it kind of looked like blood.
Then a hand clamped on my arm and yanked hard. I tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth, as someone shoved me roughly against a wall. A man, in a black hoodie, with something sharp and shiny and silver.
Cold fear ran through me, and my eyes widened. I suddenly occurred to me that maybe that puddle had been blood.
"Give me your wallet," he growled, his eyes full of deranged demand.
Oh God. I'm actually being mugged.
His breath stank like weed and booze. I let out a petrified whimper, and made to reach for my wallet, my eyes glued to that knife hovering near my throat.
He slowly released his hand on my mouth to grab the wallet, and I whispered,
"Please don't hurt me—"
"Shut the fuck up!" he growled, and his hand curled around my fingers, which were clamped so tightly around the wallet I feared he'd try to snap them off. "Give me your wallet now, or I swear they'll never find you."
A shiver ran down my spine. They? He assumed people would notice if I went missing, and he was still game to take me out if it came to that? A sickening feeling of panic began to squeeze around my heart, and his threatening eyes told me he was not bluffing.
He would kill me, and I did not want to find out how.
"Please," I whispered faintly, and when he tried to pry the wallet from my hand my fingers wouldn't uncurl. I was frozen with fear. His eyes darkened and a snarl erupted from his lips.
"You wanna make this harder?" he growled, and he moved into me. I yelped, trying to push him back but his hand tightened around my wrist and slammed into the wall, inflicting a searing pain in my knuckles. He leaned close, so that his breath was on my mouth, and said,
"I like the ones who fight back. Maybe I'll take you home with me and show you what happens to stubborn little bitches like you."
"Hey!" another voice cried, and I immediately wanted to shirk into a ball.
There's two of them, my first thought was, as tears formed in my eyes. But the guy whipped his head around, and his shoulders tensed defensively. My gaze drifted to where the sound had come from, and I saw three figures.
"Get out of here!" the shorter one demanded. He was holding a camera, and I suddenly recognised him. The blonde hair, the freckles...
"Connor?" I choked out. Backed by Asher and Wesley, the thug wasn't game to stick around. He backed up, his shoulders tense, and ducked his head before taking off in the opposite direction. I let out a staggering breath and sank to the filthy ground, bursting into tears of relief as I listened to his vanishing footsteps.
"Holy shit!" Asher exhaled, as the three of them raced over.
"Hey! Wren hey!" Connor said, falling into a crouch beside me and reaching for me. "Hey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
"What the hell were you doing down here alone?" Wesley added, almost angrily.
"W-W-Wi-Fi!" I choked out, unable to form any other cohesive sentence.
They exchanged horrified glances.
"Wi-fi?" Asher repeated dumbly, eyes wide with shock.
"I-I-I," I stammered, shaking, but it wasn't any use.
"She's going into shock," Connor said. "Let's get her out of here. Come on."
Wesley and Connor helped me to my feet, while Asher grabbed their equipment. I realised they must have been filming down here. Wesley had said that there was an abandoned warehouse around here. I hadn't expected them to still be here, though.
They led me out to the street, and to a car. Connor opened the door, gesturing for me to get in. I did, and the other three climbed in. Wesley took the driver's seat, and Asher the passenger seat. Connor sat beside me, his eyes full of concern. I stared at my hands. They were so pale, and they wouldn't stop trembling. I wondered what my face looked like right now.
Wesley pulled out into the lane, and we sat in silence for a moment. I focused on breathing deeply, until my thoughts became clear again, and my heart rate steady.
"What happened back there?" Connor asked gently. I shook my head, tears still brimming in my eyes.
"I've never... that's never happened to me," I mumbled.
"Well, yeah— if it had, you wouldn't have done it," Asher said pointedly from the passenger seat. Wesley threw him an annoyed scowl. But then he spared me a quick glance and added,
"I did tell you it wasn't a safe part of town."
His words were gentle— gentler than anything I'd heard him say before.
"I needed Wi-Fi because... I've got a trial for a job tomorrow," I admitted quietly. "I needed to check the bus timetable, but I ran out of mobile data, and..."
Tears brimmed in my eyes again at the memory. I could still feel that guy's hands on me. Still smell the weed on his breath, taste the alcohol on my tongue...
"You're okay," Connor said, rubbing my back gently. "It's okay— we'll take you back to our place. You can stay there tonight. Or if you want to go home, I can drive you back later, alright?"
I nodded, swallowing hard. He turned back to Wesley.
"Is that alright?"
"I suppose," Wesley replied, his eyes trained on the road. I got that feeling again. The feeling of annoyance, like my presence in the house was unwanted. What had I done to upset him?
For the rest of the car journey, they didn't press me for any more details. Instead, they talked about the footage they'd gotten today at the warehouse.
"I'm telling you, that was a spirit!" Connor insisted. "Asher, you should have done the Ouija Board with us!"
"I don't like that shit!" he replied firmly. "You know I hate messing with that stuff!"
"Yeah, but it's not even real, so it can't hurt you," Wesley said.
"It is real!" Connor insisted.
"Yeah, it is. That's why I don't do it!" Asher added.
"I believe in it," I said quietly, and Connor glanced at me.
"See!" he pressed, gesturing to me.
"My Uncle Jim had an experience with it once," I added. "Said he played with one when he was twelve, and something haunted him every day afterward, for the rest of his life. He could never get rid of whatever it was."
"What happened?" Asher asked, peering around his seat at me.
"Um... his cupboard doors used to open on their own. And things would fall from the shelves, like cups and stuff. My parents never believed it— always said he was messing with them on purpose."
A lot of my relatives had told me I took more after Uncle Jim than my parents. He had been the black sheep of the family.
Though I guess that was me now.
"I'd like to meet your Uncle Jim," Connor said, grinning. My face fell a little.
"He... passed away a few years ago."
"Oh," Connor added, and the mood in the car became awkward. "I'm sorry."
I waved it off.
"It's okay. It was a while ago now," I replied, and clasped my hands together in my lap. I bet I looked like a mess— like a drowned raccoon probably, my cheeks stained with running mascara. And my clothes weren't much better. I'd been dressed pretty sloppy to begin with, and didn't intend on staying out for long, so I'd just thrown a jacket over the top of my loose fitting, quarter sleeved shirt and baggy shorts. I was definitely regretting that now.
We finally reached the boys' mini-mansion, and Wesley parked in the driveway. We filed out, and headed inside. I became vaguely aware of how hungry I was— I still hadn't eaten, and hoped it wouldn't be too imposing to ask for some food if they hadn't already done so.
The boys and I entered the foyer, and Connor's voice echoed out into the house.
"Yo, Kurt!"
I hovered just beside the door, while the boys slipped off their shoes and made their way inside. Asher and Wesley were lugging the camera equipment between the two of them, and Connor was heading for the staircase.
"Kurt!" he called again.
"What?" A faint voice echoed back.
"Get down here!"
Connor then turned to me.
"We were going to just reheat some leftover pizza for dinner. Did you want some?"
I nodded eagerly, feeling my stomach rumble quietly.
"Cool," Connor beamed, and at that moment Kurt appeared on the staircase and noticed me.
"Oh, hey! Wren! Nice to see you!" he greeted, making his way down. He turned to Connor. "How did the filming go?"
"It was great!" Connor replied. "We definitely captured something."
"Nice," Kurt replied, smiling coyly, then turned back to me. "So, what brings you here, Wren?"
"Uh—"
Connor came to my rescue,
"I'll explain later. Let's go grab some food."
The three of us headed to the kitchen, and I had to stop and take in the size of it. There were two ovens, which Connor switched on immediately, a large island counter, and more cabinets then I'd seen in my entire life. Kurt fished out five boxes of pizza, and began dishing the remaining slices onto a tray. I made a mental note to pick off the meat— I didn't want to be a pain and ask them to cook something vegan.
"So, where's your job trial at?" Connor asked me, as we waited for the ovens to heat up.
"Uh, it's at this placed called LA Beauty Marketing and Management," I explained.
"Nice," Kurt replied, with a grin. "That would be a great job! Way better than wiping tables at Starbucks."
"No offence," Connor added quickly. "Starbucks is cool too. But maybe all of this happened for a reason."
Sure. I'd met two YouTubers who got me fired and then saved me from a thug for a reason. I mean, I'd had a crazy week, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't about to start chalking it up to fate.
Coincidence, though? That seemed more plausible.
"Though, just to be on the safe side..." I said, as a thought occurred to me. "They didn't recognise me... but if they see that video, they might think twice about hiring me. So, I know it's a big video and it's earning you a lot of revenue, but... I don't suppose you could take it down?"
Kurt and Connor exchanged an uneasy glance, and I could tell it wasn't something they wanted to do. But then they looked back at me, and they stiffly nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course. We owe you that much," Kurt said, a little deflated. I nodded, hoping my expression showed my genuine thanks for their sacrifice.
Wesley and Asher entered the room soon after that.
"We'll be in the den— just shout out when it's ready," Asher said, as they passed us and headed through another door. The three of us ended up taking a seat on the bar stools and talking, and about ten minutes later another person walked in. I recognised her immediate— the dark brown hair, the blue eyes...
Her gaze flew to me.
"Oh," I said, getting to my feet. I offered Jade my hand. "We haven't met yet— hi, I'm Wren."
She seemed a little stunned, but she recovered quickly and smiled.
"Hi Wren," she said, shaking my hand, "I'm Jade."
Then she turned to the boys.
"You guys have got to see this."
She fished out her phone from her pocket. There was a news article there, and my eyes widened as I read it.
YouTube Star Lana Fairbanks and Model Nathan Gilmore Back Together?
Eyes wide, I quickly scanned the article. It recapped the events of Lana's video, where she'd talked about Nathan cheating, and the baby, and then discussed how Lana and Nathan had put aside their differences and were back together. There was even a statement from Nathan in bold: "It was a mistake— I'll always love Lana."
"This is just crazy," Kurt said. "I can't believe he's dumping you with the baby and getting away with it!"
"I know! It's bullshit!" she replied. "This whole thing was a setup— I just know it. I shouldn't have fallen for it. He told me he hated Lana, and was going to leave her. But instead, he gets me pregnant and then goes back to her, effectively ruining my modelling career just as its starting to take off."
"Yeah, but you don't know that for sure," Connor pointed out. "Maybe he's just an asshole."
She gave him a pointed look.
"Come on, you know this is Lana's work— it's her way of getting revenge."
I got the feeling I was missing something here, but I already knew that Lana and Asher had dated in the past. Not to mention she'd called him an asshole in her Storytime video, so perhaps that had something to do with it.
The boys didn't say anything, and with an annoyed with she pressed on.
"Lana and Asher have been on bad terms ever since high school, and since then, they've been rivals on YouTube! She knows he doesn't care about her, and she can't touch his content. So instead, she's using me to get to him. Ruining my career is her way of getting revenge, and getting ahead!"
"So don't let her win," Kurt replied. "You can get still an abortion."
She narrowed her eyes.
"For the last time— I'm not getting an abortion. I'm against them."
"Okay, okay," Kurt replied, raising his hands in protest.
She pointed to the article again.
"Well, we have to do something about it!"
"What can we do?" Connor replied. "Nathan is back in the public's good graces. And even if your theory is true, how are we supposed to prove it? Your relationship was completely secret, and it's only going to backfire on you if you start badmouthing him. Those two are like Jay-Z and Beyoncé— people will just say it's karma for getting in the way of a good couple."
"Yeah, that video Lana made really rallied people onto her side," Kurt added, his tone defeated.
Jade sank onto a barstool, burying her face in her hands.
"I know," she sighed hopelessly. "It just angers me that they're getting away with this. It's not right!"
After hearing Jade's side of the story, I was torn between the two girls. I had no idea who to believe, or who to side with. Jade seemed pretty genuine though, and I felt bad for assuming the worst of her just because of what Lana had said in her video. I mean, of course Lana was going to be upset— which meant her side of the story was going to be very emotionally driven. I should have listened to both of them before deciding anything. It was too bad Lana's followers couldn't. But even if they did, would they believe Jade over Lana? Loyalty was a big thing when it came to internet sensations, after all.
Sitting there listening, I wished I could help in some way. But I wasn't anyone special. Not a miracle worker, and certainly no YouTuber with a platform and voice to make a difference with. I was just Wren from Starbucks, meme sensation, and helpless girl who almost got mugged.
Which barely counted for anything in the city of the rich and famous.
***
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please vote if you did, as it helps me out a lot!
The next update will be on the 27th December-- in the meantime, I hope everyone has a great Christmas!