The Personal Assistant

by Kimberly Belle

it was the perfect fall day and her hair was flying and the guitar riff made her think of her brother, who she missed like crazy.

I know the second I crack an eye that the day is going to be brutal. Hot and muggy,

I feel it before I am fully awake, the low pressure clanging in my temples.

my work wife and right-hand gal.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but why is that woman grinning like she just met Beyonce?”

For all my husband’s brilliance, the world of Insta-influencers is as real to him as the tooth fairy.

How for every ten thousand followers I have, I can demand a higher price for sponsored content;

when those followers are engaged—watching my videos, liking my posts and commenting—I can demand even more.

am her cheerleader, the person who believes more in her than she believes in herself.

When did external validation become a prerequisite for our inner peace?

An iffy word choice, a misinterpreted sentiment—you never know what people will latch on to and blow up big enough to knock you off your perch.

That’s the thing about internet pedestals, they’re shaky.

I’ve seen too many other influencers c...

She can’t act, she’s ass-ugly and she’s got the brains of a dodo bird, and the only talent that is even remotely relevant is her willingness to hang her bare ass out for all the

I do need her, despite what Patrick thinks of my personal assistant.

He’s never been a big fan of AC, though he also can’t ever seem to explain why, at least not in concrete terms.

Secretly, I think it’s not her but the job that he doesn’t love, the way it keeps me constantly connected to my phone, the way I’m constantly whipping it out to document every second of our private lives.

“Just...don’t do anything rash, okay? And maybe be careful what you say. The last thing we need is some angry idiot to show up here, looking for a fight.”

It’s one of the stickier points between me and my husband, that Unapologetically Alex isn’t just about me, but our whole family. Patrick and the twins have starring roles in my posts, too, as does our home. The 1926 stone-and-stucco rambler

Any crazy person with Google and a gun could find the place with very little effort.

push up on my tippy-toes and give my husband a lightning kiss. “Love you.

Already the air outside is turning thick and soupy, heavy with the scent of cut grass and the coming rain.

I peel open my laptop and wake the screen with a fingertip.

My eyes bulge at the volume of notifications...more than I could respond to in a month, rolling in faster than I can scrub them from my screen.

I would need an army of interns to scroll through them all.

I could have never reached a million followers without her help.

My cell phone screen goes dark, then black. I drop it on the desk and turn back to my laptop with a groan.

I have no memory of posting them, but then again, my memory of last night has more than a few black holes.

Surely, surely I didn’t.

@deaconsmom386 stfu you stupid bitch the only train wreck here is you

@sarahb34 wtf, this is so cringey. Why do you think you’re better than everybody else bc your not fyi.

@emmabugg99 What happened to positivity? To everybody being worthy the way they are? Way to be tone deaf and come across like the judgmental, righteous-sounding bully you are. Unfollowed.

@misterfluffles I hated this bitch before it was cool It’s about time

@readerroger_1 if I meet you in an alley you will definitely get fukked

And with that, I slam my laptop closed.

Tell the twins I’m bringing them a rope so they can hang themselves. That comment crossed a line, and it’s not the only one. There were dozens and dozens more just like it.

“I saw. The trolls are being way harsh as usual.”

“Like I said, you were hacked.” “That’s just it, Shannon. That post is pretty much word for word of what’s come out of my mouth at some point. I don’t know how it couldn’t have come from me.

“Yeah, but you can’t ignore them, either. What if one of those nutbags shows up at your front door?” Now she sounds like Patrick.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like her,” I say. “That’s because she’s weird as shit. Always watching, always taking everything in. It’s creepy.”

“So she’s observant. That’s what makes her good at her job.” “It’s more than just observant. It’s like... I don’t know, like she’s trying to memorize everything about you so she can copy it.

Last week I caught her in the backyard, reciting one of your Reels. I thought it was you at first...

Even if it was AC who posted, even if I was hacked, that doesn’t erase those awful words or save me from the trolls currently piling on all of my socials.

I feel it then, the heavy, dark weight of this train, and my helplessness to stop it.

“About AC. Because he might have some insight, you know, into her motivations.” She winces, closing the laptop.

“Arguing. In the front yard, in the middle of the afternoon. They were standing by the big bushes near the gate, and Patrick was obviously pissed. I couldn’t hear them, but they didn’t even look over when Wolf started losing his shit.

I think of his face in the kitchen last night, the parts of it I can remember. Patrick was quiet; he always goes quiet when AC is around. He hates the way she’s always there when he gets home from work, how she knows things, personal things about us

you should have seen your husband’s face. I’ve never seen him look at anybody like that.”

My heart gives a heavy thud. “Like how?” When she finds my gaze in the mirror, her smile has gone stiff. “Like he wanted to kill her.”

When Patrick and I first met, no one thought we were right for each other, least of all me. First of all, there was his age. He’s older than me by a good seven years,