1. Charlotte

1

CHARLOTTE

M ost people shut off their alarm and shuffle into the bathroom to begin their daily grooming in private. I’m not most people.

With a jaw-crackingly huge yawn, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. The sun has yet to kiss the LA basin, and won’t for a couple of hours yet. I’ve lived in Los Angeles my entire life, but I used to rise with the sun. Now, my day begins at 4:30 AM, just like every day.

I answer the call of nature and then hit play on my Megan Trainer wakeup playlist. Before I start filming content, I have to make myself somewhat presentable. I use a cold compress to take swelling down in my face, then pull my unruly black hair back into a tight bun.

Nobody on the internet can smell my breath, but I go ahead and brush my teeth anyway. The minty tingle helps me feel more like a human. After that I tie a knot at the waist of my tank top to make it sleek and tight. Only when I’m done with all of my preparations do I turn on the ring light and begin filming.

“Hello beautiful people of Charlottesville! It’s a little past 4:30, so my brain’s still a little foggy. That’s why I’m glad that Globaline’s new cosmetics line is so easy to use. I’m going to start with a basic foundation…”

I smooth the beige powder over my cheeks, then use a brush to blend it.

“As you can see, those blemishes are going bye-bye. I plan on getting more sun this summer, so I’ll have to update my shade. But don’t worry, Globaline makes it easy with their skin-tone matching app.”

As I finish my pre-workout skincare routine, I glance at the checklist on the pink sticky note hanging from my mirror. I have to make sure I hit all of my endorsements for the day. Thank goodness most of my 2.3 million followers understand the hustle. Sponsored endorsements saved my family.

Everybody wants to be an influencer. Money for nothing! Never have to work a day in your life! That’s not exactly true. Still, I feel incredibly lucky that it’s worked out for me, so far.

“Ok, that’s it for now, see you next time in Charlottesville!”

After my skincare routine, it’s time for a workout. I grab my strawberry lemonade energy drink and head down the hall, flanked by a view of the pre-dawn cityscape. I wonder how many other points of light belong to people starting their work day, just like me.

At the end of the hall, I hang a left and enter my home gym. Thanks to product placement deals, I have all of the latest, highest tech equipment. My exercise bike has more computing power than the rocket ship the first astronauts took to the moon. My scale will tell me everything from my weight to my ambient skin temperature and cholesterol levels.

The fitness regime is crucial. Everyone knows the internet is without mercy or pity. But even more than that, it helps me stay healthy, and my followers say it helps them too.

I flip on the lights, check my image on the monitor, and mount the elliptical machine. Once I start recording, my smile comes back like magic.

“Hey, what up my peeps? It’s exercise time in Charlottesville. Thanks to my XFitt 2500 elliptical machine, I don't have to sacrifice comfort for results. The gyroscopic balancing and extra-responsive controls mean I’m always in charge of my workout.”

I set the elliptical to about seventy percent of my max output. I still need to be able to talk, after all.

“You can easily adjust the settings with a flick of a switch, or by voice, like this: Xfitt, increase angle by 4 percent.”

The arms adjust with a mechanical whirr and I beam at the camera.

“It really is that easy. Oh, and I almost forgot, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who voted for me in the LA’s Points of Brightness awards. You’re the best! I’m super stoked to be a recipient for my work with the UCLA Mattel Children’s Hospital. Thanks so much for your support!”

A sheen of sweat glistens on my forehead, but it’s not creating too much of a glare. I check my filters and make sure everything looks good. Unlike my skincare routine, I’m livestreaming the workout so everything has to be perfect.

So far, so good. I roll through a couple more endorsements, then find I have about ten minutes of blank space to fill. The hearts and likes keep on coming as I switch gears to something more personal.

“Now I’d like to shout out to my favorite people in the world… Hey Mom and Dad! I see you’re watching, which I love, but I need you to sign off for a few minutes. I have a surprise to share with you later.” I wait until my parents are offline and then continue in a stage whisper.

“So, my parent’s thirtieth wedding anniversary is coming up, and I want to do something special for them. Since y'all have such great ideas, I’d love to hear what you think. I’ve created a poll you can link to from my social pages. Thanks fam!”

I finish my workout, and post my results for my followers to see. Someone points out that I completed my steps in record time today. I thank them and shut off the cameras for a while.

As soon as I stop filming, my smile fades and I droop between the armrests of the elliptical machine. I don’t even feel all that tired, not physically, but being ‘on stage’ all the time can be exhausting. Sometimes, I wish I had a normal job.

But then I wouldn’t get to be part of my followers’ amazing stories. And I mean their real stories, not the social sharing feature. Like Jenny, who used my dating profile advice to get her first online date after divorce. Or Margot, who gained the confidence from my makeup and hair tutorials to land her dream job. Then there’s Sarah, who feels like she has her body back post-pregnancy, partly thanks to my workout routine.

I’m about to step in the shower when my phone rings. I check the screen and smile when I see it’s my mom. Wrapping myself up in a fluffy robe, I sit on the edge of the tub.

“Hey mama, what’s up?”

“Hi honey, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m great, just about to wash off my workout sweat and head out to meet the team. How are you?”

“We’re doing just fine–”

Apparently I’m on speaker, because my dad cuts in. “Ask her about the surprise!”

Mom makes a ‘tsk’ sound and I chuckle as I picture her pinching Dad’s arm.

"As you like to say, Dad, patience is a virtue. Too bad this virtue's still on backorder."

I can practically hear my dad wink as he says, “that’s my girl.”

Mom clears her throat and I think I know what’s coming next.

“Charlotte, you’ve been working so hard lately. Are you taking some time for yourself? Making plans with friends?”

Just as I suspected. “I spend time with my friends every day, all day. That’s the great thing about my job.”

My mom’s frown is audible through the phone. “Well, I just want you to be able to really live your life. You know, take a break, unplug. I worry about you.”

If she only knew about the haters and idle threats, like the one I got last week. She would insist I quit social media immediately. Which is why I don’t tell her about them.

“Don’t worry Mom, once I land this big sponsor today, I’ll be able to relax a bit.”

I think Mom wants to say more, but instead she says, “Ok honey, sounds good. Well we better get to work.”

We end with a chorus of ‘I love yous,’ and I set the phone down with a sigh.

All the time and effort I spend to support my parents, and they still have to work. Even worse, I hardly get to spend any time with them. But hopefully that’s going to change soon.

Not that I’m complaining. My parents worked two, sometimes three jobs at a time to make sure I got enough to eat and could attend a decent school. I have no problem paying them back in kind.

And besides, my life is great. I get to hang out with celebrities, try the latest brands and fashions for free–Heck, they pay me to try them most of the time–and don’t have to worry too much about money.

True, it would be nice if I had a little more time to enjoy it. And maybe someone special to enjoy it with. But even if I had the time, dating in LA is hard. A lot of men can masquerade under a veil of charm that falls away the second they get comfortable with you. So I stick with what works, for now.

The sun is a red line on the horizon when I finish my shower and slip into leggings and an oversize top. My wardrobe team is due to meet me at the PCC flea market in an hour. It’s going to be a big day filming content and I have to be at my best.

I stop and pose on the hood of my red Lexus. I’m supposed to create at least three endorsement social media posts about the car every week. In exchange, I get to keep on leasing it, and they even foot the bill for my fuel. In LA, where you have to drive everywhere, this is huge.

Once I’ve posted about the car, I get behind the wheel and drive to the flea market. By the time I spot my team’s big, green van in the parking lot, the sun is well into the azure sky. I slip on a pair of shades before locking the Lexus and joining my team.

“Good morning, everyone. Leslie, is that coffee for me?”

“Yes ma’am, here you go.”

“Thanks Leslie, you’re a lifesaver.”

I take the coffee from Leslie’s wizened grip. She’s around seventy and still has the magic touch when it comes to styling hair. Behind her, my make up artist Ramone fans herself with a folded up event program. Steve, my pink-shirted, impeccably mustachioed camera man, gives me a wave.

“How's Whiskers doing?” I ask Steve.

“She's doing much better now, and getting used to having no claws. She's even making her happy cat noises again. I recorded a few that are gonna make great sound effects.”

I chuckle. “What would I do without you?”

“You would live a sad, boring life,” Steve says with a wink.

My team came together more or less organically. It all started with Leslie, the lady who lived across the hall from me in my old apartment, offering to do my hair.

She did such a good job, and we got along so well, we continued to collaborate. Then she mentioned that her nephew Stephen was looking for work, and one thing led to another.

We’ve been together for almost four and a half years now. Having people I can rely on is important to me, enough that I give them all a percentage of my earnings. After all, Charlottesville isn’t just me, it’s an entire brand and they have been such a big part of it.

Steve looks up from his phone. “It’s looking good today, no chance of rain.”

Greg, his partner and my stylist, rolls his eyes. “You can’t trust the internet weather report. My knee tells me it’s going to rain.”

“Well, hopefully it won’t happen until we’re done for the day,” Steve counters.

Greg peers at me and purses his lips. “I’m thinking that you should be in denim today, girl. Something that goes with the, shall we say rustic nature of flea marketing.”

Steve snorts. “As long as she looks cute, and not like she hails from a place where people go to the family reunion to hook up.”

I slap him on the arm. “Be nice, Steve. We all have to be at our best to snag Etsy.”

We’ve been after the e-commerce giant for months, and they finally agreed to a kind of tryout. If I get enough views at the flea market today, they’ll consider sponsoring me. With Etsy backing my channel, I would be able to give my parents the long overdue gift of retirement.

I try on a couple different outfits before settling on a pair of cutoff shorts and a sleeveless Tee with the Pasadena City College logo emblazoned on the front. The idea is to look approachable and flea market apropos while still being fashion forward. When I see myself on the monitor, I start losing confidence.

“This is a lot more leg than I’m used to showing. Do my undies show when I bend over?”

I do a test bend while Leslie peers intently.

“Nah, you’re good. The shorts are short, but they don’t ride up.”

I look around to get the consensus from the rest of my team. Everyone seems to think I look good enough to film. I let my team doll me up to look camera-ready and then prepare to start streaming. Steve counts down.

“Ok we’re live in 5-4-”

I tug on my shorts and bite my lip. Even after all this time I still get nervous going live, especially when I’m out in the world. At home, I’m in complete control. Out in public, anything can happen. I take a deep breath and picture my parents smiling faces.

Steve switches to fingers to show we’re live in 3-2-1.

“Hey, Charlottesville peeps, I’m at the World Famous PCC Flea Market. I’m here trying to nail down some great deals. Remember my old side table? Well, out with the old, in with the new.”

I pick up the side table and give it a toss off camera. Steve times the whistling noise just right, as well as the yowl implying I struck a cat. Steve wasn’t lying about getting some great sounds from Whiskers.

I lead the way down the flea market’s main walkway. The sight of a camera induces one of two reactions in the vendors. Either they light up and get cheery about the free advertising…or they roll their eyes and prepare to endure another ‘influencer.’ I try to keep myself as unoffensive as possible, and avoid the vendors who look like they would rather not deal with me.

Live Streaming is not for the faint of heart. You have to keep up a steady flow of narration while looking for the next thing to talk about. Plus, you have to make sure you don’t develop a snot bubble or fall on your face. The first time I went live was a complete disaster. But now I actually enjoy it, once I get over the initial nerves.

I stop in a little stall that has some mid-century modern furnishings. The proprietor is a sixtyish man with a long gray beard. When he turns out to be one of my followers, I’m downright ecstatic.

I pose with a few different end tables he has, and my followers reply with hearts or thumbs down emojis. I wind up picking the table with medium popularity.

He tries to give me a discount, but I wind up overpaying out of guilt. It’s bad optics to be one of those people who is always trying to work the discount or freebie angle.

I walk around the flea market for half an hour, livestreaming the whole time. The numbers aren’t as good as I’m used to, but it’s a lovely Saturday morning and I know a lot of my followers will play the video on their own time.

“All right, everyone. Now I’m going to–”

My screen goes dark. Frowning, I tap on the screen and see that my phone is still on. It’s the feed that’s been interrupted.

“Hey, Leslie, can I see your phone? My stream has gone dark.”

A bleeding eye symbol flashes over the screen, and then a sinister, electronically distorted voice speaks.

“We are the Aegis Order. We have usurped this insipid video to deliver a warning. Our social-media driven culture has led to a death of intellectualism and a rise in rampant consumerism.”

“Well sonofabitch. Is this some kinda joke?” Leslie says, showing me her phone. “I’ve got the same thing on mine.”

Steve comes over and peers over her shoulder. His face goes pale.

“It’s not a joke! I’ve heard about these people, some kind of hacktivist group.”

“Like Anonymous?” I ask.

“Way worse than Anonymous. Anonymous just leaks data. The Order makes threats.”

“Why are they cutting into my feed, though? Shouldn’t they be screwing with a Kardashian or something?”

I start to feel panicky. This is going to ruin my chances with Etsy.

The video switches to scenes of people at shopping malls, online purchasing sites, and stacks of money being counted.

“Social Media Influencers are destroying the very fabric of our society. People without talent or creativity are making ludicrous amounts of money and winning awards they don’t deserve.”

The video cuts to a headline with my picture next to the Points of Brightness award.

“We have chosen Charlotte Gilroy, AKA CharlottesVille4-Ever, to be an example to others. If Charlotte does not stop posting content online, there will be consequences.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, gripping my phone with white knuckle intensity. “These are the same guys who sent me that creepy direct message last week. They told me to stop posting or face consequences, and then there was a skull and crossbones emoji…”

Leslie gasps. “Did you call the police?”

“No.”

“Why the Hell not?”

I sigh. “Leslie, I get at least a half dozen death threats per week. They used to scare me, but now I just accept it as part of the price of being an influencer.”

Steve clucks his tongue. “Well, you’d better take these guys seriously. They’re looking to build a reputation, trust me. And for some reason they’re fixated on you.”

“Shh,” I say, putting my finger to my lips. “They’re talking again.”

“The Aegis Order will save humanity from itself, no matter the cost. No one listens, unless there is pain. No one cares, unless there is blood. Nobody changes, unless there is…”

The image changes to one of me, my eyes crossed out with red x’s and a red slash on my throat drawn in with marker.

“...death.”

I nearly drop the phone, my hands are shaking so bad. Leslie takes it out of my nerveless grasp and I settle onto a stone bench, unable to speak.

“Now we definitely have to call the police,” Leslie says. “I’m calling them right now.”

Steve shakes his head. “What are the police going to do? It’s not like they’re going to assign protection twenty four hours a day. Charlotte’s not that famous. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Then I get an idea. I take my phone back from Leslie and start typing in the search bar.

“What are you doing?” Leslie asks.

“There’s this security agency I follow, one that’s been used by Easton Ross herself. It’s all a bunch of ex-military and spy type of guys who run it…what was the name?”

The website comes up and I smile.

“Platinum Security. If they can keep Easton Ross safe, surely they can do the same for me.”

I hope.