Bad Influence by Alison Gaylin

Author:Alison Gaylin [Gaylin, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-06-13T00:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

I started to say something, but Alena widened her eyes at me and put a finger to her lips. Blake and Spike didn’t notice the gesture, but I did. And so I spoke carefully, directing my question to Blake. “What’s his name?” I said. “This Gonzo guy.”

“Dylan Welch,” Blake said.

“What do you think of him?”

He glanced at Alena. “He’s nice enough, even if Gonzo kinda sucks, right?”

“Sure,” she said.

“So you don’t think he could be behind these threatening messages?”

“No way,” Blake said. “I mean . . . why? We’ve done a lot for his brand. He likes us.”

I nodded. Alena stared at her sneakers.

Spike got another text from his manager, and told us he was heading off to his restaurant to help deal with the midday rush. I assured him I’d be there in time for the Foodstagrammer and accompanied Blake and Alena to my apartment, where Rosie greeted us enthusiastically. Blake got down on the floor and played with her for six solid minutes. Once he was finally back on his feet, I showed him and Alena to the guest room.

Blake went in and began to unpack. Alena squeezed my arm. “Thank you.” She said it as though she was simply referring to my taking in the two of them and picking up the slack until Bethany returned, but of course I knew otherwise.

Alena went into the guest bathroom to take a shower, and I headed into my own bedroom, Rosie at my heels. I checked my watch. I had an hour before I needed to bring Blake and Alena to their trampoline event, so I changed out of my skirt and into my most comfortable pair of jeans, threw on a clean T-shirt, and curled up on top of my bed with Rosie, my phone, and my laptop. And after a quick check of my email, I got acquainted with Dylan Welch.

Much as I hated to use it myself, social media was my favorite way of getting to know those whom I was investigating. Scrolling through someone’s Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or what-have-you could provide more insight about who that person was—or at least how they saw themselves—than hours of direct questioning ever could.

Interestingly, I’d found that Facebook pages tended to be the most revealing. I think it was the platform’s familiarity, combined with its unlimited character count and confusing privacy settings. But for whatever reason, it encouraged oversharing. And since it had been around for so long, Facebook provided not only a glimpse into people’s psyches today, but where they stood ten and even fifteen years ago. If you were looking into someone Blake’s age, for instance, you could click on their page and scroll all the way back to the misguided things they’d been doing—and posting about—in junior high.

Dylan’s most recent Facebook post was a photo of himself aboard a yacht with a bunch of people his age—about twenty-four or twenty-five. Dylan was front and center in a blinding pair of madras shorts, red-framed Ray-Ban sunglasses, and

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