I

“I think he’s cheating,” Amethyst said.

Rayna nodded sympathetically, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. “I’m so sorry. Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“He doesn’t treat me the same.”

“It’s only been a year.”

“So much can change in a year.” Amethyst sighed and dabbed under her eyes with her ring fingers. Her makeup didn’t smudge despite the fat tears rolling down her Dior foundation.

Rayna squeezed her friend’s hand. They sat in Amethyst’s living room, the afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the brand new, 75-inch OLED 4K UHD Smart TV. The leather couch was supple, the plushest couch Rayna had ever sat on. She ran a fingernail over the velvety armrest. It felt like she imagined tulip petals would feel. “In my mind, you have two courses of action,” she said.

Amethyst’s glossed lips quivered.

“First, confirm the affair.”

“I don’t need to. I just know he’s cheating.”

“I thought Vince was cheating once and I used this app,” Rayna said. “For his phone. It sends copies of his texts to you. It’s called Private PI.”

“Private PI?” Amethyst said. “Like ATM Machine?”

“It’s your own private, private eye. Way cheaper than hiring a real private eye. I saved sixty percent.”

“You considered hiring a private detective to spy on Vince?”

“Look, do you want to know if he’s cheating or not?” Rayna said.

Amethyst put her head in her hands. Rayna rubbed her back.

“What’s the second part?” Amethyst said.

“You need to talk to a professional, honey. I’m, of course, always here for you. But a licensed counselor can actually help you heal.”

“I can’t go to a therapist!”

“You don’t have to go to one. You can text them. I did it to help deal with my severe PMS. It’s called InstaTherapy.”

“How much does it cost?”

Rayna glanced at the couch and the TV. “They’re only fifteen dollars a month, and you don’t even need them forever. Plus, here’s a referral link for twenty percent off your first three months.” Rayna pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped around on it.

Amethyst’s phone buzzed. “The coupon’s for both?”

“Bundle and save,” Rayna said.

Amethyst wrapped her arms around Rayna. “I knew you’d have the right thing to say.”

Looking over Amethyst’s shoulder, Rayna opened a new message from Ads-in-Real-Time, Inc. Two-dollar Credit earned. Tap the link to view your Credit balance.

“Oh hey.” Amethyst pulled away. “I have this Chanel foundation that’s too light for me. Want it?”

Rayna blinked. “I prefer Maybelline.”

Before pulling out of the driveway, Rayna sat in her dented Honda Civic and tapped the link to Adsinrealtime.com. Her Credit balance was twenty dollars, enough to transfer to her checking account. She hit the Transfer Balance button, and a pop-up indicated her funds would be available in one to three business days. She started her car and drove home, singing to her favorite motivational playlist.

II

Rayna’s kitchen looked more like a fulfillment center than a place where two people cooked and ate meals. Cardboard boxes, some still intact, some broken down, lay on the table and countertops and by the recycling bin. Plastic wrap and bubble wrap and the brown recyclable paper used by the environmentally conscious brands overflowed from her trash can. She had been trying to organize her products into boxes and bins when a new shipment had arrived. Now the kitchen looked just as messy as before she began.

She was watching a promotional video about Güt WTR, a BPA-Free, AI-powered Smart water bottle. Its iridescent purple exterior caught the kitchen light and sparkled. She tapped the bottle and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing metallic sound. It was superior to every other water bottle she’d owned — she could tell. The high-quality and ethically sourced materials screamed luxury and put all her scratched plastic water jugs to shame. She could throw those away now — this was the ultimate water bottle. It would look so good sitting next to her yoga mat, once she could afford to start doing yoga.

She scanned a QR code on the box the bottle had come in and downloaded the Güt WTR – AI-Powered Health Assistant App. After completing a profile with her height, weight, health goals, activity levels, caloric intake, career description, hobbies, address, and credit card information, the AI Assistant recommended a daily water intake customized to her lifestyle and needs and promised to notify her every time she needed to take a sip of water.

Her phone buzzed. Water time! Take a big ol’ gulp and meet your water intake goals! She filled the bottle and drank.

Güt WTR needs access to your smart watch data so we know when you drink.

Rayna gave the app the correct permissions.

Good job! You drank water!

She read the legal disclaimers in the Ads-In-Real-Time, Inc. app. One Credit per Mention. Five bonus Credits per purchase using the advertiser’s referral code. Any health claims have not been approved by the FDA. Mentions that directly state, or imply, that this product is FDA-Approved will not receive Credit.

She heard the garage door open and looked at the time. Five-thirty. Vince was home from work. She scrambled to clean everything up before he walked in.

“Hi, honey,” he said. “How was your day?”

Rayna smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She took an onion out of the pantry and started chopping it. She didn’t know what to make for dinner, but it would probably require an onion.

“I’m only two Referrals away from Maven,” she said. “Amethyst signed up for the private eye and counseling services.”

“You didn’t tell her I was cheating, did you?”

Rayna’s eyes stung from the old onion. “I said I thought you were cheating.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No it’s not.”

“It’s basically the same thing.”

“I mean, do you want me not to say it?” She dug in the pantry for a few loose garlic cloves.

“Yeah, I want you not to say it.”

“The business development classes said I should tell a good story.”

“They probably meant a true one,” Vince said.

“What if I say I found out you weren’t cheating? That I was just paranoid? That would actually sell the counseling service better, I think. Emphasize that I needed help for my problem.”

“You don’t have a problem.” Vince winked and went upstairs to change out of his work clothes.

When he was out of sight, she looked up a recipe on the Cook Anything & Everything app. She punched in some ingredients she had on hand: onion, garlic, potatoes, spaghetti noodles, rice. The app recommended either spaghetti with marinara sauce or potato soup. Since she didn’t have crushed tomatoes, it’d have to be potato soup.

It had taken Rayna three weeks to convince her husband to let her register as a Licensed Native Advertiser. He had insisted they didn’t need the money, that she would find full-time work soon. But he didn’t understand that she wanted this to be her full-time work. She hated filing insurance claims three days a week at the private practice. What she loved was stuff. Stuff meant status. It meant comfort. Stuff — any kind of stuff — calmed her. And the only way to get nice stuff was to sell it to other people.

She had pointed at their five-hundred-dollar couch, which sagged in the middle and had coffee stains on it. “I want a leather couch like Amethyst,” she had said.

“She’s a freaking architect,” Vince had said.

“I think I’d be good at this,” Rayna had said.

And so, six months ago, she’d registered. She took the workshops, received her first shipments, and already she was almost a Maven. The workshops had said it could take up to a year, but she’d almost done it already. And if she hit Super-Maven, she could buy whatever couch she wanted. She could buy a new car. She could make Vince a stay-at-home husband, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with germy and unruly third graders anymore.

Vince, back downstairs in sweats, set the table with the chipped Corelle they’d had for seven years. No one had bought them the expensive china Rayna had listed on their wedding registry, so when they returned from their honeymoon, they drove to Bed, Bath & Beyond and bought the cheapest white dishware they could find. When they had asked the sales associate for a box, he’d said that dishware in that price range didn’t come in boxes.

“You think your mom would like this cooking app?” Rayna set a bowl of steaming soup in front of Vince.

“Which one?”

“Cook Anything & Everything.”

Vince slurped his soup. “Good, honey. You know, Mom doesn’t really follow recipes.”

“I need to Mention it to someone.”

“You just Mentioned it to me,” he said.

“You don’t count.”

He looked at her.

“The app recognizes your voice,” she said.

“The cooking app?”

“Ads-In-Real-Time, Inc.”

“What do you mean the app recognizes my voice?”

“I mean they know what your voice sounds like, and that you’re my husband, and husbands don’t count towards Mentions.”

“But how does it know?” he said.

“It just does.” She waved her hand around, as if the air had the answers. “It was in all those waivers we signed.”

He looked into his soup and stirred, his spoon grazing the bottom of the bowl. “Probably shoulda read those.”

III

Rayna went to her mother-in-law’s house. Despite what Vince said, she would recommend the app.

“I’m so glad you called!” Denise set a mug of tea in front of Rayna and squeezed her hand.

They were sitting in the sunroom, on white wicker chairs that had been in the family for decades. Rayna wanted white wicker chairs, though they were impractical. She didn’t like how they left an imprint on the back of her knees where the seat cushion didn’t reach. But they sure looked good in a sunroom. Rayna wanted a sunroom, too.

“I just figured it’d been a while,” Rayna said, and blew on her tea. She didn’t like green tea, but she wanted to be polite. “It’s just so hard to keep up with everything. Having friends, working, cleaning the house, and cooking? It’s a lot.”

“I hear that,” Denise said. “I’m so glad I was able to stay home with Vince and his sister.”

Rayna lowered her eyes. Denise was always going on about how wonderful it was to be a stay-at-home mom, what a blessing. As if Rayna didn’t want that too. The whole point of the Native Advertising program was so she could make enough money to stay home. And kids would come next, naturally.

“I have this app that’s been helping me,” Rayna said. “You should try it. It’s called Cook Anything & Everything.”

“Does it cook for you?”

“Not yet,” Rayna said. “But it has quick and easy recipes, many of which use only one pot. The other night, I didn’t know what to make for dinner, so I just selected which ingredients I had on hand and it gave me a bunch of options.”

“That does sound helpful!” Denise said, raising her eyebrows.

“Do you wanna try it?”

“Me? Oh, no. I’ve got all the recipes I need up here.” She tapped her temple. “I like improvising. But I’m sure it’s been just lovely for you.”

“Might not hurt to check it out,” Rayna said. “I have a referral code for a seven-day free trial.”

“Why change something that already works so well?” Denise said.

Rayna sipped her tea, trying not to grimace at the floral, yet somehow bitter, taste. She thought over her professional development class about Conquering Someone’s No, but none of the steps came to her mind before Denise changed the subject.

“You know, Charlie and I are going to Panama City Beach next month.”

“Oh really?” Rayna said. “How great.”

IV

Rayna leaned across the too-small table, her Decaf Java-Chip Latte warming the tips of her fingers. “Have you tried Digesticalm?”

“What?” Madison said.

“Digesticalm. For your intestinal distress.”

“Shhh. Lower your voice. Is it good?”

“I’ve been using it for weeks now,” Rayna said. “It’s decreased my tummy troubles by thirty percent.”

“How d’you know the percentage?”

“I think it’ll help. For the … you know.”

Madison shushed Rayna again and looked around the coffee shop.

“Here’s a sample pack,” Rayna said.

Madison snatched the small blue packet out of Rayna’s hand and shoved it in her purse. “Okay fine,” she said. “Just, like, be discreet, okay? We’re in public.”

Rayna shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Persistent diarrhea is nothing to be ashamed of. It affects almost half of the American public.”

Madison’s cheeks flushed and her eyes popped. “What did I just say? Cut it out.”

“Let me know if you like it.”

One Credit earned. Tap the link to view your Credit balance.

V

On a monthly check-in call with Fern, her mentor and the woman who had signed her up for the Native Advertising program — and who also received a five percent cut of all Rayna’s Credits — Fern said it was time for Rayna to register other people for the Native Advertising program and begin working toward Super-Maven.

“I mean don’t get me wrong,” Fern said. “Great work on getting to Maven so fast. But if we ever stop pushing ourselves, we start falling behind, you know?”

Rayna had recommended products, apps, and services to everyone she knew. Friends in the neighborhood, friends at church, relatives both close and distant, friends from college, coworkers. Even some of Vince’s friends had purchased items based on her recommendations. Nine months in, and she was a Maven, which meant she now received two Credits per Mention.

But becoming a Super-Maven was more challenging than simply talking about products with her friends and family. In fact, no one except Vince even knew she was employed by Ads-In-Real-Time, Inc., and if she told them now, they might not appreciate that she’d been secretly advertising to them. She’d found out about Native Advertising after Googling “how to make money at home” and stumbling upon Fern’s lifestyle blog. Rayna didn’t want to start a blog, though, because who would read it? She’d have to promote it to her friends and family, thus revealing to them the exact thing she was trying to conceal. At least for now. Once she was successful enough, they’d all understand.

“What should I do?” Rayna said.

“Everyone wants to earn money by staying at home,” Fern said. “Just find the people who need it the most.”

Rayna thought about this for a few days, making a list in her journal of people who wanted to work at home the most. “Everyone” and “Moms” were the only two categories she could think of. The first was too broad, obviously. But mom groups could be found in abundance on meet-up sites. Boy-mom and girl-mom groups, toddler-mom groups, teen-mom groups — both for moms of teens and teens who were moms — empty-nester-mom groups. Her most likely option was first-time moms. These women were excited, but also anxious. Their household expenses were skyrocketing, but they also had to start thinking about life after maternity leave, if they even got paid maternity leave. Wouldn’t they rather stay home with their new little one instead of returning to the old grind?

She found a group meeting at a nearby cafe in two days. She would show up, explain how she could help them, and be a Super-Maven just as fast as, or hopefully faster than, she’d become a Maven.

VI

Rayna walked into the cafe ten minutes late. She wanted to make sure the women had gathered already so she could easily find them. In a corner by the large windows looking out onto the parking lot, a circle of women sat. Most of them were noticeably pregnant, but two or three could have just been a bit overweight, and one very thin woman must have been too early to show. Rayna went over.

“Is this the moms group?” she said.

“You’re in the right place,” said a massive woman. She was like a tick about to pop. “Have a seat.”

Rayna sat next to the thin woman who wasn’t showing yet.

“I’m Elyse,” the about-to-pop one said. Although she was smiling and seemed happy, she kept shifting around in her chair and rubbing her lower back.

“Rayna. How far along are you?”

Elyse’s smile grew, and she looked around at the others. “Any day now.”

The thin woman said, “I’m in my first trimester, like you.”

“I’m sorry?” Rayna said.

“Oh, forgive me, I’m Anna.”

“Hi, Anna,” Rayna said. “It’s just that, I’m not, I mean—”

“You haven’t told anyone yet!” Elyse called from across the circle. “This is a safe space, trust me. Our lips are sealed.” She mimed locking her lips with a key and throwing it away. All the women giggled.

“You must’ve just found out,” a third woman said. She was less obviously pregnant, but she stroked her small stomach to emphasize it.

“I…”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” said a different woman. Rayna would never remember all their names. The business development classes had said it was imperative to remember names. “We were all scared at first. Still are.”

Anna leaned over, talking low. “We just started telling people. About to start the second trimester.” She had long blonde hair and was clearly younger than Rayna, younger than all the women there. Her skin was smooth and clear, her face still round like a child’s.

“You don’t look it,” Rayna said.

Anna shrugged. “My doctor says that since I work out a lot it might be a while before it’s noticeable.”

Rayna smiled, trying not to hate this woman. “How nice. If you’ll just excuse me. Bathroom.”

“That’ll keep getting worse and worse!” Elyse said, and everyone cackled.

Sitting on the toilet, Rayna scrolled through her Notes app, where she’d typed out what to remember from the business development classes. In all caps at the top, she’d written “AUTHENTICITY.” To run a successful business, the most important thing to remember was to be true to your authentic self. Were there any multi-million-dollar corporations run by inauthentic people? Rayna couldn’t think of a single one. Pursuing your passion — that was what led someone to the top.

But what did that mean, being authentic? She never thought Vince was cheating, she didn’t have tummy troubles. Those had been lies, but they were harmless, really. In fact, those lies had allowed her to help Amethyst and Madison, and if she really thought about it, her authentic self wanted to help people. She also wanted to be successful, and wasn’t she more successful now than before, thanks to those tiny untruths?

She Googled how long until pregnant belly shows.

It varied from person to person, but according to Google, Rayna had a good 16-20 weeks. She hadn’t intended to deceive these women. It just happened. And now it was too late to back out. Instead of correcting them, thus raising their suspicions, why not go along with it for a few weeks, and then…

She washed her hands, staring at herself in the mirror.

Women had miscarriages all the time.

She was there to help, and that’s what actually mattered.

Back in her seat, Rayna learned that Anna and her husband had married right out of college and now, only one year later, were expecting. The husband, Joshua, was still an entry-level data analyst, making barely enough money to cover their current expenses.

“I’m working part-time for now,” Anna said. “But we don’t know what to do when the baby comes.”

Rayna reached for Anna’s hand. “It’s the same for us.”

“Are you gonna keep working?”

“It’s still too early to know,” Rayna said. “But I’m actually trying something that’ll make it to where I can stay home and make money.”

Anna’s beautiful, bright eyes shined. “What is it?”

VII

Rayna snapped a selfie and posted it to her social media account. I’ll be on Live in ten minutes! See you there, boss girlies!

She looked into the lighted mirror on her vanity, one of the first items she had ever Mentioned to her friends. It wasn’t the best makeup mirror out there, but it held sentimental value. Every time she tapped on her Dior foundation or swiped Tom Ford mascara through her dark eyelashes, she thought back to when she had to use drugstore brands, when she couldn’t afford to highlight her hair, when she and Vince watched movies on the five-hundred-dollar couch, their bodies leaning ever so slightly toward the middle. It was important to stay grateful. To remember where you came from. And then move far beyond it.

She set her phone in the tripod and fluffed her hair. She did not work in insurance anymore. Vince did not teach third grade. He was everyone’s favorite cameo appearance in her unboxing videos, so charming, so supportive. And because all of this had gone right, she knew it wouldn’t be long until other things, fertility things, went right too.

It was two o’clock. Time for her weekly Live session when she answered questions and gave business advice. She touched “Go Live” on her screen, and her smiling face appeared.

She was sailing. Her brain buzzed with the adrenaline of talking about herself, seeing the number of viewers tick ever upward. She shared life updates, she talked about her current favorite products, about the importance of gratitude mantras when starting your own business.

“Okay, time for questions.” She scrolled through the dozens she’d received during the livestream.

“Oh, this one’s good. This one’s important.” She nodded seriously. “DevinMichelle226 asks, ‘How do you get over the fear of talking about Native Advertising to your friends and family?’”

Rayna looked into the camera, her smile fixed, her gaze sympathetic. “Fear is our biggest enemy, Devin. You can’t be afraid of what people will think. Some people will understand and some won’t, but if you’re true to yourself, that’s all that really matters.”

At two-twenty, she kissed her viewers goodbye. Her smile slowly fell, and she checked her Credit balance.

She turned off her lighted mirror and blinked against the colorful orbs dotting her vision.