“What I say goes,” Mrs. Cole says. “And I think you need to have some punishment until you learn that. I’m serious here, Rudy. You are to have no interaction with fans—no DMs, no chats, no Twitter polls,” she says firmly. “If you start taking me seriously, I’ll restore your privileges to the livestream.” She pauses, and Cecily holds her breath, wondering if Rudy will fight back. He doesn’t. Instead he just glares at their mother, who pretends not to notice.
“Amber?” she says finally.
Cecily cringes. She doesn’t envy Amber right now. If she agrees to do what their mother is asking, Rudy will see it as a betrayal; Cecily is certain of it. But what else can her sister really do, except exactly what their mom asks?
“Okay,” Amber says, her voice small.
Cecily looks at Rudy. The hurt and anger are coming off him in waves.
“Seriously?” Rudy shouts. He shakes his head as he turns to storm upstairs. “If anyone needs me, I’ll by in my room. Thinking about how my actions affect this family.”
After a second of awful silence left behind in Rudy’s wake, Mrs. Cole turns back to her daughters. She plasters a chipper smile on her face. “Now, why don’t you finish up that sunbathing shoot? And when you’re done, Cecily, start planning a new makeup look. I’m thinking summer, gold, sunshine . . . and less formula and industry talk, this time. I’m worried that you’re getting too technical, that viewers will start to drop off.”
Cecily feels herself nodding. Another perfect makeup look, coming right up. Minus the science, minus the industry talk. Tailored for maximum engagement. She fights the urge to let her shoulders slump.
Ms. Cole continues. “Amber, get the camera for your sister. Oh, and set up an alert for when this follower posts. Just because we’re not interacting doesn’t mean we can’t keep tabs on them. The moment he’s bad for engagement, we’re blocking.”
Cecily runs upstairs to change into a bathing suit. She looks at herself in the mirror for a long moment. Does she look good enough? She turns her head to the side to get a better view of her eye makeup. Is her highlighter hitting the right spots to accentuate her cheekbones? Has she completely disguised her undereye bags? Are her eyebrows perfect? Her eyeshadow properly blended?
As she heads back downstairs, she pauses in front of Rudy’s door, unsure of whether or not she should check on him. She decides to wait and let him cool off a little on his own first. She feels bad for him, but she also knows that he made his own bed by mouthing off to their parents so harshly.
It’s not that she disagrees with Rudy—she’s often daydreamed about having more control over their content, or even breaking off on her own to focus on her more scientific content, but she knows a losing battle when she sees one. Now is not the time to try and convince their mom to give them some freedom—not when the family finances are so precarious and their careers are their best shot at clawing their way out of debt. Cecily sympathizes with Rudy but feels that he needs to learn how to pick his battles. As she passes by his room, she can hear her brother stomping around and a clash as he knocks over something that sounds like buckets.
Amber is waiting for her in the now-empty kitchen. She shuts her computer. “Alert’s up. We’ll get a ping whenever they post.” Cecily shudders. “I know,” Amber says. “I’m not looking forward to reading more of their comments, either—but I’d rather know what they’re up to.”
“Yeah,” Cecily says as Amber follows her down the hallway. They grab towels and sunhats from the closet. Finally, Cecily can’t take it anymore. “I can’t believe you took away Rudy’s admin privileges,” Cecily mutters.
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Amber asks, swiping a towel from the lower racks. “Stage a coup? I don’t exactly have the pull that you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cecily pulls open the door and they head outside.
“Oh, please. Amber, take some pictures of Cecily there, there, lying on the ground there, in a bikini there—I bet if you’d spoken up, she would have listened. Not been so hard on Rudy.”
For the second time that day, something her sister says leaves Cecily stunned. Does Amber really feel this way? When was the last time they really talked about stuff? With a jolt, Cecily realizes that she can’t remember. She didn’t know Amber felt that way. “I—”
Ping.
Their phones vibrate in unison.
ColeTripsHouseFlips has begun a livestream.
Cecily glances at her sister, who looks as confused as she feels. Would Rudy really risk doing a livesteam after their mom so adamantly forbade it?
Amber has her phone out already, so Cecily peers over her shoulder as she opens the video feed.
The camera jostles and reorients itself. Someone—it has to be Rudy, doesn’t it?—is in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The third-floor master bedroom, Cecily realizes. A hand touches the camera again, stabilizing it. Then, Rudy comes into view, wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt.
Cecily and Amber exchange horrified glances. Amber curses. “I was so focused on the alert that I didn’t wipe out the admin privileges yet,” she gasps. “It’s only been, like, fifteen minutes—”
“Leave it to Rudy to do something like this,” Cecily says, leaning closer to her sister.
“You can say that again,” Amber says with a snort. Rudy disappears, and from off-screen, something metal clangs. “What’s he up to?”
Then Rudy reappears, this time lugging a bucket of paint. Cecily freezes.
“No way,” Amber whispers.
Cecily only watches as her brother smiles at the camera. “Hey, Cole Patrol,” he says. “Who wants to watch me give this room a makeover?”
Amber and Cecily exchange a look of horror. In
