Page 6 of Ruby
Not to mention it would backfire.
If he was to post a video of me eating like that it would go viral, likely with pig sounds added and the video altered to give me four extra chins. If I posted one of him, it would probably balloon his base and I’d bepersona non grataas he posted videos about how abusive I was and how he’ll have mental scars for life.
I’ve seen him use eyedrops right before a video to elicit sympathy. It’s his speciality.
Another ping on my phone, this one letting me know I have an email, pulls my attention. It’s my anonymous account.
The no kill shelter received my generous donation and would like a name for their social media donor announcement.
I tap back that I’ll happily remain anonymous, but I hope they send me updates on how it’s used. Pictures are always appreciated. It’s one of my only true joys left.
I’m pleased with how well it’s been working to pull cash out of my incidentals account and place it in one where the Witch, who doubles as my manager, can’t see how I spend it.
She’d take that bit of joy I get from it and twist it into something “worthwhile.”
I’ll let her keep assuming I have a drug habit. She’s spun that non-existent issue a few different times for the tabloids. I might hate how I live, but drugs have never tempted me.
Well… non-prescription ones, anyway. I roll my eyes when my galloping thoughts remind me that my valium script ran out years ago and so what’s in my system right now is just as illegal.
Shane comes to look over my shoulder and I quickly exit my email and open up the cat videos I keep on standby for moments like these.
He snorts in derision. “Is that all you did today?”
“Cats are adorable,” I grouch back.
He snorts. “Dogs are better.”
“I thought you said animals are disgusting, and you’d never get one?” I shoot back.
“My agent said it would improve my image if I got a dog,” he replies. “Preferably a manly one.”
“A manly… dog?” I drawl.
My attempt at humor slides right over his head. “Yeah. Like a malador or something.”
“The mix?” I ask, confused.
“No,” he says with a sniff. “I don’t support anything but purebreds.”
“Interbreed vigor is…”
From the look on his face, I already lost him. I spend a moment trying to figure out what dog he means, instead. “Malinois?”
“Yeah, that,” he says, waving a hand. “She said I can share dog training tips. Oh! I could maybe start a line of manly shoulder holders for it.”
I blink, wondering if maybe he’s still confused about the breed. “For what?”
“The dog, Ani! Don’t be dense. You need to read more. Not just watch fucking cat videos.”
I open my mouth to let him know the size of the dog he’s talking about, then close it. If he’s going to be an ass, two can play that game.
I raise my voice in excitement. “Yeah. Why don’t you get a little bitty cute bag mockup and make a video about how your Malinois is going to love sleeping in it.”
His eyes light up. And who said my acting skills were deplorable?
“You better not steal my idea,” he whines.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say in my best chirpy tone.
