Page 55 of Famous for a Living

“Put that back on right now,” Mina says. “If one of us has to wear this thing, we all do.”

Kevin straightens. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, I’m just following the rules,” Jax says, hands in the air. “No cheating by heating.”

“Diving suits are heating. You know that. This”—Mina waves her hand at his six-pack—“this is just an excuse to show off in front of Cat. For the millionth time, she’s not interested.”

“What was that supposed to mean about ‘having’ to wear this?” Kevin’s voice is a high-pitched squeak over the others.

But as the group breaks into a scuffle, I just stand there, frozen by Jax’s words.

Kitty Cat.

Not Cat. Not Catherine.

Kitty Cat.

He’s seen it, then.

Been there, to the back rooms of the internet.

And found my old account. The first years when I made my first mistakes.

How I hit my first viral video.

And then bounced around trying a few different things, then hit a second.

Then a third.

And discovered a theme.

Consistent factors in the videos that set them apart from the rest. What it was that gave me virality.

My body. My fifteen-year-old, full, heart-shaped-lips body doing a little flirting with the camera.

Educational videos weren’t for me. Trying to be funny was a joke. I certainly had no fancy house or child-prodigy skills to show off. Couldn’t do a triple flip on command. Couldn’t solve a Rubik’s Cube in ten seconds. Couldn’t make anyone laugh till they peed their pants. Didn’t live in a castle.

Couldn’t do anything, really, except be . . . pretty.

Show off a little skin.

Dance a little.

Wear a good deal of makeup to highlight all my best features.

And be . . . dumb.

Yes, it was ridiculous, but there was something about me playing dumb that worked. Pretend I didn’t get the jokes. Blink my bright hazel eyes furiously with an airy smile on my lips.

Kitty Cat.

The beautiful young bombshell with the little brain.

And when I stumbled into wearing that seductive fan-fiction costume and people went wild? Well, I became every nerd’s dream girl.

I jumped into the role. Watched in wonder as the numbers soared.

I tried not to look too hard at my analytics. The ratio of men to women following me was eighty/twenty. The biggest percentage of men watching were over forty.