How To Increase Followers On Twitter | Talkshow Short Story

No amount of licking his hand and rubbing the back of his head could get one tuft of Cory’s hair to sit down, to his annoyance. He’d picked up the reputation of a recluse among his fans, which meant quite a few people would be paying attention tonight. He could see the Tweets already, “Of course he’s a slob, what do you expect from a shut-in?”

“Ready?” Jillian asked, peering into the room. “Foster’s winding up, you’re on next.”

Cory lifted his hand, and the hair under it sprang up eagerly. He sighed. “How many people are there?”

“Guess,” she said, a huge smile plastered on her face.

Cory sighed, not wanting to play this game with her again. “Thirty?” His Tweet that Jillian had posted about tonight’s interview had gotten about that many likes. One reshare, from her account.

She laughed. “Fifty so far. And they said they’re expecting at least twenty more to show up while you’re on.”

Cory’s heart sunk even further.

“And they’re estimating ten thousand concurrent viewers online right now, with more tuning in as we get closer to Letterman.”

Cory’s knees nearly gave out under him.

“Aren’t you excited? If Devil in the Den takes off the way it should, you’ll never even have to lie about Alpha Squad again.”

He curled his lips into — well, maybe not a smile, but at least a high-effort grimace. Alpha Squad had pushed Cory into the limelight and converted Jillian from a part-time social media marketer to his full-time manager. “Can’t wait.”

It didn’t feel like a long wait before he was sitting in front of the enigmatic Daniel D’Elia, with his perfect salt-and-pepper hair and trimmed beard. There could never be a more stark juxtaposition than a TV host and the guest who didn’t want to be there.

But Cory had on a forced smile, pushing Devil in the Den like it was the next Game Of Thrones. Like Jillian had advised him, he talked about how Kennedy Rushman took to her character so well that she was calling everyone “squire” and “knave” (which the crowd ate up) and how the camera crew kept asking the sound director to leave the boom mics in the scene, as some sort of perverse callback to Alpha Squad.

D’Elia’s eyes lit up at this reference, and Cory felt his insides rumble a little. “Speaking of Alpha Squad,” he segued. Cory nodded, hoping he looked enthusiastic.

“Twenty years since it ended, and I still miss every day of it,” he asserted. He could picture Jillian already ordering the production editor to send her that clip. ‘Engagement’s going right back up!’ she’d tell him.

“There are rumors that you might’ve tried to take it to another platform,” D’Elia put forward. Cory could tell he was trying to look tentative, but no amount of lip-biting could cover up his natural smarm.

Cory leaned back in his chair. “There had been talks of putting it into film, but never anything concrete,” he quoted from Jillian’s script, like he always did. And then he had to end with a joke about some fake drama with Sam’s ex-girlfriend-turned-armada-commander. He’d given it at every interview. And his answer would be cut out of every segment, “to maintain a better flow” as every glib producer told Jillian, and Twitter would blow up again about how it was yet another year where nobody asked him what happened to the movie.

“I’m sure Mikayla being Sam’s ex didn’t help,” D’Elia giggled. Even though Cory knew he was just trying to help him stick to the script, his shit-eating grin made his blood boil.

“Shut up, D’Elia,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Mikayla was played by a fine young actress, who’s gotten an awful rep because she’s the only one whose career didn’t blow up after Alpha Squad.”

D’Elia looked genuinely taken aback for once. Under his breath, he muttered, “Nobody prepped me for this.”

Now Cory was the one unable to resist a self-satisfied smirk. He turned straight to the camera. “Studios sometimes get an entire project completed and then decide to can it — in the industry, we call it lost media. Usually, it’s because the company that paid for it decided it was so bad that putting it out could only lose them more money.”

D’Elia frowned, clearly trying to find some way to interject and sound smart. Cory glanced at the crowd, and many people were sitting upright or even leaning forward, which spurred him on.

“In our case, it was because of a cup of coffee.” A couple people laughed, probably in surprise. D’Elia seemed to have given up the reins completely now. It was Cory’s show now.

“You see, industry standard wasn’t always to keep a backup — until Alpha Squad: Moon Mission. After we got rid of reels, we were naive and believed technology was infallible. And then a producer wanted a coffee that ended up dousing the memory card.” Someone in the crowd audibly gasped.

“S — so there actually was a movie?” D’Elia asked, having finally found his voice. He still looked a little hurt.

“The first of a trilogy,” Cory confirmed. “And if that went well, there were talks of prequel shows and spinoff series — I’d written three pilots already. We were talking multi-million-dollar deals — plural.”

“You couldn’t redo it?” D’Elia asked, now sounding like a child listening to a bedtime story.

Cory shrugged. “Actors got bigger roles, film crews got bigger movies. I got a cult classic that still pays all my bills even though I work on a new project every year. And a following of a few hundred thousand that only cares about a sequel to a series that’s been dead for over a decade.”

D’Elia’s gaze shifted to somewhere behind Cory, and the tension drained from his face. He turned to the camera and announced, “Well, that’s all we have time for with Cory Dinsmore.” He turned back to Cory. “Thank you so much for coming on, we’d love to have you in again to talk more about your history with Alpha Squad. You’ve been a great guest.”

The main camerawoman held up five fingers, indicating they’d cut in five seconds. Realizing D’Elia had completely forgotten the point of the interview, Cory interjected, “And don’t forget, Devil in the Den will be on NBC Tonight every Tuesday at 8.” The camerawoman was at two fingers now, and he couldn’t keep himself from throwing in, “If you’ve only been following my career for an Alpha Squad reboot, this is the closest you’ll ever get — at least this one’s actually coming out.”

She hit zero and a couple crew members appeared to walk Cory back. As soon as he stood up, he realized the gravity of what he’d just done. His Twitter followers would be halved before the end of the night. No more bargaining power at any meeting — hell, the really disappointed fans might even review-bomb Devil in the Den just to get back at him. He could already picture the headlines: “Renowned screenwriter axes career on live TV.”

His gait had changed from a stride to a shuffle by the time he was backstage. Jillian stood still, staring at him like she was daring him to justify himself. He forgot she would need to find new employment too. After all the work she’d done to keep him relevant. He couldn’t believe himself.

All he could muster was “I’m sorry.”

But, now that they were closer, Jillian didn’t look as disappointed as he’d thought. “For what?” she asked.

“I just told a fanbase that’s been waiting for any word on a reboot that it’s never coming,” he said, frowning in confusion. “Were you not watching me say that a second ago?”

A smile broke out on her face so widely that she grew dimples Cory had never seen before. “That’s not what your fans are hearing,” she sang. “Guess what’s trending.”

Cory could only stare at her until her patience ran out.

“Fine,” she huffed and held up her phone to show him. “#RebootAlphaSquad and #ShutUpDElia. We’re going to triple our engagement!”

Cory watched a muted clip of himself telling D’Elia to shut up. He felt proud of himself, but also a bit disappointed — his one tuft of hair still wouldn’t sit down.