The weekend went by with Brandon—yet again—including us in his shenanigans. I swear he's made it his mission to produce a reality TV show for our family. I briefly wonder where he gets his ideas too. Come on, cupcake battle between him and dad? As if he'd ever won a challenge he's thought of.
Right now, it's Monday evening, 7:00 P.M. to be exact. I'm doing the last playback of the makeup video I shot last Friday. I'm uploading this later tonight just so that I don't have to worry about not making content for the next two days in New York.
Hey, maybe I can shoot in New York. A vlog, or something, maybe some clickbait of finally finding the love of my life? I grin to myself. Like that's gonna happen.
I pack my camera in my bag too, just in case. Complete with the charger, wires, and everything else I might need for quick editing or shooting.
"You packed already?" Mom pops her head in my room.
I jump, placing my hand over my chest in surprise. "What is it with not knocking on my door, people? It's right there!" I point to the door just beside her. She just laughs. "Yes Mom, I've packed."
"Alright. Get some sleep, we leave early." I give her a really big, fake smile as a response. She pauses before turning around. "You look constipated when you do that."
"Mom!" I yell, and she leaves with her palms up and hiding a smile, obviously amused with her snide comment.
I look over at Salem with a look on my face saying "what's wrong with her?" And Salem just stretches on her belly and closes her eyes, resting her face on her tiny paws.
I know, girl. People are so tiring to be around.
----
I wake with a jump as my alarm blares up. What the hell. That felt like ten minutes tops. I turn it off and roll out of bed. It's pretty useless anyway since I kept tossing and turning the whole night. I was woken up by two nightmares, both of which weren't scary, just straight-up disturbing. I'd almost given up on sleep when one o'clock rolled around. Good thing I nodded off a few hours before we head out.
I just wash my face and don't bother with makeup, knowing I'll probably be sleeping the whole damn trip anyway. I'll dress and fix myself up when we get to the hotel.
I shrug on a crop top and a knitted cardigan and some nice jeans. I do my hair in a fishtail braid, one on each side, trying that method I saw on youtube about no-heat curls for long hair.
I step out of my room, Salem in tow, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder when I bump into Claudia. She hasn't dressed up yet too, and her face is free of makeup as well. A Walsh, indeed.
"Morning," she mutters before yawning, her hair up in a messy bun.
"You literally look dead," I laugh as we head out to the kitchen. We place our bags next to each other on the floor. Mom and Brandon are here as well, making sandwiches, his camera's recording, and on its tripod.
I see myself on the viewfinder, cringing at how disgusting I looked. "I look dead."
"I didn't get much sleep," Claudia grumbles.
"You and me both," I say before looking at the other two. "And apparently, so did Mom and Brandon." When I pass by Mom to get a glass of water, she hands me a sandwich. I take it and rest my chin on her shoulder, she hums, pressing her face against mine in affection. "I hate this so much," I groan before facing Brandon. "I've got a video title for you: Walsh zombies out to get New Yorkers, I bet that'd be a hit."
Claudia makes a biting sound and tries to imitate that one zombie in World War Z snapping his mouth, but because of her small frame, she ends up looking like a hamster munching on a vegetable. We all laugh at her.
"It's all for the clout," Mom sighs.
"Oooooh," Brandon teases, his brows raised in amusement, "Momma Jen knows what clout is . . ."
"Don't be an idiot," Mom rolls her eyes at Brandon.
"Did you just say clout?" Claudia asks, a smile threatening to break free from her face.
Mom throws her hands up. "Yes, I know what clout means, okay? It's like for attention. Like that one thing 'do it for the vine!' Right?"
Brandon chuckles. "Where'd you learn all those words?"
"From her Tinder date, I'm sure," Claudia mutters.
I turn to Claudia. "Her Tinder sugar baby," I say pulling up my British accent, "and the Bumble sugar bee."
Mom makes a face at me that says "what the hell?" that makes me laugh. I'm probably right and she won't ever admit it. They finish making the rest of the sandwiches and we load up our things in the car before pulling away from the driveway.
"Claudia, don't forget to tell Devorah about Salem," I tell her before dozing off in the shotgun seat.