Follow Me Back by A.V. Geiger (6)

6

UNREAL

Eric silently mouthed the lyrics of the chicken nugget jingle, while his team of stylists sculpted his unruly hair into some semblance of order. He sat perched on a high stool in front of the same hotel mirror that he’d used for his early-morning selfie shoot. The scene of the crime, he thought to himself, lightly drumming his palms against his thighs.

It was no use. He couldn’t focus. His mind kept turning back to the same topic. How far had that photo traveled in the hour since he posted it? How many memes had it spawned, calling him out for his self-absorption? Did it break the Internet, like that famous picture of Kim K’s ginormous naked ass?

He’d hit Tweet without a moment to spare this morning, barely throwing on some gym clothes before Maury came knocking again. Now, with his workout behind him, Eric longed to check the retweet count, but he didn’t dare. Not with the prying eyes of the hairdressers all around him.

Eric felt a cold trickle work its way down the back of his neck. Doubt or stray hair gel? He wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so impulsive. Was it all a huge mistake? If anyone at his label figured out where that picture came from…

A harsh voice rang out behind him, and Eric’s hands stopped drumming in midair at the sight of his manager’s cell phone, thrust into his face.

“You wanna tell me what the hell this is, kid?”

Eric expected to see the bathroom mirror, but apparently that photo hadn’t yet registered as a blip on the PR radar screen. His eyes fell instead on a Hollywood Life blog post. He’d forgotten about that one. It was a pap photo from LA a couple weeks ago. The cameraman must have taken his sweet time selling it to the highest bidder.

“That dickwad was asking for it,” Eric muttered.

Maury glared. “What did he do? Did he get up in your face?”

“No, he didn’t get in my face, Maury. He tailed me for three hours straight!”

“So you had a pap following you? That’s it?”

A hairdresser placed her finger at the base of Eric’s jaw. He swatted her hand away in annoyance. “It was my first day off in a month! It’s kind of hard to relax when some prick has a telephoto lens pointed at your face all day long.”

Eric scowled to himself even as he said the words. He knew Maury had a point. He’d lost his cool with that photographer for no good reason. He’d been more than a little on edge after the story broke about the Cromwell murder—especially out in public. He couldn’t deny feeling stalked. Maury called it paranoia, but how could Eric help it? He was followed everywhere he went. When he somehow managed to escape the fans for a few blissful moments, then the paps started sniffing around. It never stopped. From the moment he’d first signed his record deal at age fifteen, his entire life had been punctuated by the faint sound of camera shutters clicking in the background.

Maury clapped a heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder. His face was grim. “Eric, you can’t go around flipping off reporters.”

“Reporters.” Eric snorted. “That asshole was stalking me, Maury!”

“You will get a reputation for bad behavior. These guys can destroy a career faster than you can say ‘cheese’ if you get on their bad side.”

Eric opened his mouth to retort, but he forgot what he was about to say. His ears had perked up at that last remark. “Wait a minute. Do you think it’ll cause a backlash?”

Maury gave him a playful cuff on the cheek. “Nah. The publicists are spinning it that you were provoked. But you only get one get-out-of-jail-free card before—”

“I was provoked!” Eric stood abruptly from the stool. The makeup people could finish him up on set later. He couldn’t take another minute with all those hands pawing at his face.

Maury whirled a finger in the air, signaling the army of stylists to gather their supplies. They trooped out, and Eric stood to follow them, but Maury stepped into his path.

“Get yourself together, kid.” Maury poked him in the chest. “I don’t know what’s eating you lately, but enough’s enough. We’ve got too much work to do.”

Maury cast him one last warning look and shuffled out. Eric watched him go, but his foul mood faded after a moment. He was finally alone, and he had more pressing matters to attend. Eric pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped to open Twitter, still set to the new username:

@EricThornSucks

He held his breath as his eyes flicked down to check his notifications. The count normally stood at the maximum, twenty plus, but on this account…

Nothing.

Dead silence.

Really? Not one single retweet? Eric rested his weight against the bathroom countertop. Was it possible that no one had seen the picture yet? Maybe he should try directing it @ some of the fan accounts. He closed his eyes, straining to dredge up some likely usernames. They all ran together in his head:

@EricThornFan…@EricThornLuv…@MrsEricThorn… @EricThornifed…@ErictHorny…@EricThornPorn…

Where to begin? There was that one Maury wanted him to follow. The one who started the whole Obsessed trend. He’d intentionally passed her over during the follow spree, but she might be the ideal person for his purposes. He entered in her username, @TessaHeartsEric, and nearly choked at what he saw.

There it was at the top of her recent tweets. A retweet, but not from his account. Somehow she’d retweeted the same picture from a different fan.

MET @MrsEricThorn

WHYYY IS THIS SO HOT???? #EricThornObsessed

What the hell?

How could they fangirl over that picture? He must have snapped twenty versions before he got the pose just right. He’d caught himself at an angle to keep the reflection of the phone out of the frame. He’d pressed his lips to the mirror and closed his eyes in mock passion, with his free hand clutching one of his well-defined pecs. Honestly, it was perfect—the ultimate caricature of vanity and self-absorption. How could they have possibly missed the point?

“Unreal,” he muttered hoarsely, balling his hands into fists. He should have known. He’d seen their smutty fanfics. His fans were nothing if not predictable. They had one thing, and one thing only, on their #EricThornObsessed minds.

Eric’s vision clouded with a surge of red-hot anger. Sick, every one of them. Someone needed to call them out. Make them feel ashamed of themselves. Tell them to get a life.

This one, this @TessaHeartsEric, seemed like a good place to start.

He raised his finger above the screen, already composing a blistering rant inside his head. But his finger came down on…nothing. Blank white space.

Where was the DM button?

He stared at the screen for a full thirty seconds before comprehension dawned.

He’d forgotten who he was for a minute there. It had been years since someone he wanted to message didn’t follow him as a matter of course. But that only applied to his real account. Now he was @EricThornSucks, with no history and zero followers. He was nobody. He couldn’t DM a soul.

He glared down at the profile in front of him.

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

He could try to put her on blast over public tweets, but she might not even hear him. Not with 30,000 followers. No, if he really wanted to get through to her, he needed to do it over DM. And that meant he needed her to follow him.

This was going to be trickier than he’d thought.

• • •

Tessa tore her eyes reluctantly from her new favorite Eric Thorn picture. It had given her the perfect idea for a fanfic: a riff on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, featuring a sensitive young songwriter named Eric and his bad-boy rock-star doppelgänger, Thorn. Identical twins? She pondered, tapping her chin. Or maybe one character with a split-personality disorder…

Tessa reached for her journal to jot it down (at least not all her story ideas were “projecting”), but the sight of her phone distracted her. It still displayed the account that had first tweeted the photo:

Taylor @EricThornSucks

Tessa squinted at the empty profile. Whoever this Taylor girl was, she clearly intended for that image to hurt Eric. Not a fan. Someone with an ax to grind. Maybe a fan he passed over in the follow spree that morning? Apparently, Tessa wasn’t the only one whose curiosity had been piqued. Another new DM popped up from @MrsEricThorn.

MET: Do you know a Taylor? Is there a fan I don’t know called Taylor?

Tessa racked her mind, wishing she could come up with a bit of useful gossip to impress the other girl.

Tessa H: Don’t know her. There was some other weird account tweeting me this morning. @TheRealEricT? That wasn’t you, was it?

MET: Uhhh why would you think that?

Tessa H: Never mind… Hey, maybe this @EricThornSucks isn’t even a fan? Maybe it’s one of his exes or something!

Tessa’s eyes widened as she thought of the possibilities. Eric hadn’t been in a confirmed relationship for as long as she’d followed him. Whenever interviewers asked about his love life, he always insisted he was way too busy to date. But that didn’t stop the rumors from flying. Anyone that gorgeous had to be getting action somewhere. Could it be someone famous? Someone named Taylor…

Tessa H: OMG do you think it could be Taylor Swift?

MET: Hahahah NO WAY! ARE U FOR REAL??

Tessa H: You never know

MET: LMAO kinda doubt T-Swizzle has the Photoshop chops

Tessa H: You think it’s Photoshop?

MET: Obviously. No way that’s real. Fakety fake fake. Still sexy as hell tho!!

Tessa chuckled as she stood up from her bed and paced the room. She was about to reply to Mrs. Eric Thorn again when a new notification distracted her.

Speak of the devil. Why was this Taylor person stalking her account?

A new mention appeared on her screen, and Tessa sank down heavily into her beanbag chair. “Not again,” she whispered. Why was she suddenly the target for every creepy fan account on Twitter?

Taylor @EricThornSucks

How can you obsess over that pic @TessaHeartsEric? He is LITERALLY in love with himself!

Tessa eyed the tweet suspiciously. She knew she should ignore it. This Taylor could be anyone. Tessa flicked on the account settings menu, and her finger hovered over the first option once again:

She was about to select it, but something stopped her. She could almost hear Dr. Regan’s words from this morning, echoing inside her head:

Any kind of social interaction can potentially hold therapeutic value.

Was it a mistake, all this muting? Maybe it was just a defense mechanism, like hiding here in her room. Wasn’t that what Dr. Regan would tell her? To open herself up? Make an effort to interact? “I need to try harder,” she whispered to herself.

What had this @EricThornSucks account really done, other than try to strike up a conversation? She and her therapist had spent weeks running through role-play scenarios for every imaginable social encounter, friendly or otherwise. She had the tools. She could do this. She was ready.

In any case, Tessa couldn’t deny her curiosity. Who was this girl, Taylor, and where did she get that picture? Had she photoshopped it herself? Maybe she had more where that one came from.

“OK,” Tessa said out loud, screwing up her courage. “You want to talk to me, Taylor? Let’s talk.”

She flicked away from the mute option and composed a tweet instead:

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

@EricThornSucks who are you?

The answer popped back immediately, setting off a series of rapid-fire tweets back and forth:

Taylor @EricThornSucks

@TessaHeartsEric no one special

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

@EricThornSucks are you a fan or a hater?

Taylor @EricThornSucks

@TessaHeartsEric just calling it like I see it. You can’t tell me that pic isn’t douchey

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

@EricThornSucks it’s fake duh

Taylor @EricThornSucks

@TessaHeartsEric says who?

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

@EricThornSucks says my magic Photoshop detector

Taylor @EricThornSucks

@TessaHeartsEric BULLSHIT. Trust me it’s real

Tessa H @TessaHeartsEric

@EricThornSucks and you have it…why exactly?

Another notification flashed onto Tessa’s screen just before the next reply:

Taylor @EricThornSucks

@TessaHeartsEric I’ll tell you over DM. Follow me back.