by Brown, Tara
It’s a hot mess but there doesn’t seem to be any actual inappropriate behavior on the director’s part, beyond flapping his gums.
Fortunately, now the director is saying nothing publicly, but his email to Stan is aggressive at best. At worst it’s threatening.
The studio is flipping out. The project in question has cost a hundred million dollars to complete, and if Liam has proof the director is a pervert, they will eat that. Something they aren’t prepared to do.
And as a result, everyone’s agent is blowing up Stan’s email, offering excuses and threats almost simultaneously.
I stretch, drink the last of my coffee, and start thinking about work but my brain is jumping back to my own personal problems. That leads to pacing and biting my lip until it throbs.
I’ve worn a path in the floor of my office when a miracle of an idea hits.
I grab my phone and press the contact’s call button.
“Mia, it’s Jenny Snowdon at Levisohn and Shuster.”
“Oh thank God, Jenny.” She’s Liam’s agent, someone we do a lot of business with. “I talked to Stan earlier and he sounded flustered. Is Laura in?”
“No, but I have an idea.”
“Give it to me. At this point I’m desperate.” She truly sounds desperate.
“I have to ask one question first, is the director shady? I’m not defending a pervert.”
She is quiet for a second before she speaks slowly, “No. He has flirted and schmoozed, but I’ve been doing this a long time. He’s not one of those ones. No casting couch and everyone he’s gone after was over twenty, barely but they’re legal. This is Liam being a dick, but I never said this and I will lie if ever questioned about it.”
“Fair enough and gross, almost equally. But I think I have a solution. Our best approach is to create some background noise. Let’s build on Liam’s lies and spread some more untruths. What if the director had an affair with Liam’s latest girlfriend? Which means Liam’s heartbroken and lashing out, not acting like a giant d-bag. People relate to a broken heart, so we make this entire Twitter incident a crime of passion as opposed to a narcissistic egomaniacal outburst.”
“Who’s his girlfriend?” Mia asks, not questioning the fact that Liam isn’t dating anyone, and we are about to start some serious bullshit. It’s what we do best. And the media is always there to grab it up and spread our lies. They do more than half our work for us.
“Was there anyone coming to the set much? A girl he saw more than once? It’s better to use someone that witnesses on set would have seen. They’ll verify. The crew loves giving statements when it’s against someone like Liam or the director. They love that fifteen seconds of fame.”
“Let me think.” She pauses. “Yeah. Natasha Wentworth. She came to the set four or five times to see Liam. She was filming somewhere close by. I think they’re just friends—”
“Perfect. She’s exactly what we need. She’s only twenty-three. Liam is heartbroken and the director is a bit of a rogue, going after a woman thirty years his junior. Natasha’s not one of my clients, so I don't care if we slip a bit of scandal her way. Let’s also circulate that Natasha wants a role in the director’s next big movie, and maybe she’s sleeping her way into it.”
“You’re vile.” Mia laughs.
“I know.” I sigh. “Anyway, let’s use the drama to promote the movie. Every time someone clicks the link to an article about this, we’ll pay to have an ad for the movie come up. Sell it to People Magazine and In Touch, with a tiny article that will end up as a second- or third-page read. It won’t make the cover and we won’t offer a full interview. And wherever the placement is, so will be the promo for his next movie.”
“We should also mention he is fragile from the divorce and now Natasha is sleeping with the director.” Mia is fully invested in this lie.
“Wait, didn't one of Liam’s relatives die recently? Did I see that somewhere?”
“His aunt who immigrated to live in Florida,” she answers quickly.
“Perfect. Find some photos of him at the funeral. Some pictures of Natasha in Florida. And add some images of her and him together recently. Link it all up, spin a relationship. Then we add that Liam’s friends from Hollywood have been there for him with a picture of her and him together. Let the reader make the connection from the pictures and assume. Do you have access to his Twitter feed?”
“Yeah. I deleted it already, but the screenshots from the keyboard warriors with nothing else to do with their lives say it all.”
“Okay. So long as it’s deleted, I don't care what they do. They’re going to help us promote this movie. Every article that comes out about this blowup needs to have reference to the movie. How his separation from his ex-wife made him take a more challenging part to help him find himself and how this movie pushed Liam to be a better actor. How he and the director fought on set, but according to sources, this will be Liam’s best movie, the one that wins him awards for more than being hot.”
“He’s never going to go for this,” she groans.
“No, he won’t. But it doesn't matter because he won’t be giving any public statements, and he won’t be interviewed until the junket. In fact, I want him on full lockdown, no internet or leaving his estate for at least two weeks. This will already be leaked by the time he’s seen in public. And at the junket, he will be heavily guarded.”
“Or medicated.” Mia snickers.
I should laugh at that but instead, I start writing down that we will be using the idea and emailing the doctor we keep on staff for something to slip to Liam. I don’t know him at all, but I’m sure his handler in our office, Laura, will have no problem making certain he’s extra chill at the junket. “I have to call the studio now and beg for favors. I’ll get back to you after all this is in the works.”
“Thanks, love. You’re the best. And I want to say that even though you’re junior there, we all know you’re the miracle worker.”
“Thanks. The word is ‘workaholic who is indebted to her boss,’” I joke, sort of, hanging up and calling the studio rep. “Angelo, how are you?” I ask as he answers gruffly.
“Fucking terrible, Laura, how do you think I am?”
“It’s Jenny.”
“Jenny, how are you?” Angelo’s voice lightens. He’s a little on the flirty side of things with me. I use it to my advantage.
“I’ve been better. I need something from you. Well, two things.”
“Okay.” He sounds leery. He should be, I am about to ask for the moon and stars.
“We can take this entire thing and swing it into something profitable for everyone, but I need your help.”
“Go on.”
“I need you to give Liam the best role you have coming up—whatever you haven’t filled yet that’s going to be a blockbuster. I mean something sweet that your big names are being recommended for. And I need that offer to come to him in two weeks, right before the junket. I want him to hear whisperings of the role but no confirmation until the offer hits him.”
“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Jenny. This is a huge favor.”
“I know that. But right now he’s about to be in the papers a ton. He’s got the attention of the press. He’s a good actor and a solid investment, adding that he’s in the spotlight and on everyone’s lips can’t hurt.” I try to smile while I say it.
“He’s a mediocre actor and he’s a diva.”
“What if I guaranteed he wouldn't be a diva?” Not that I have any idea on how to make that happen. Not that it matters; it will be Mia and Laura’s problem, not mine.
“He will be a good boy and make the movie and work hard. He will not be a diva or a pain in my ass in any way. And you will agree to go to dinner with me.”
“Done.” I promise, hating that part of it. “The other favor is for Natasha Wentworth. I need her offered the same thing. She needs a substantial role to smooth over the fact I just made her a bit of a whore in the news to cover this up.” And to make it app
ear she slept with someone for the role, but I keep that to myself.
“Wow, you gingers truly don’t have a soul.” He says it with a smile I can hear. “She’s no problem. She’s a hot seller right now.”
“Can you make it all happen?” I want to feel bad about it, but my mind whirls with details.
“I can. Dinner next time you’re in LA,” he adds.
“You name the place and I will be there.”
We hang up and I open my email, sending the solution to Stan.
The fix is in.
Sukii comes back into my office with a Bavarian cream donut on a plate. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good. Problem solved.” I take the donut from her and smell it as a text comes in from Victor reminding me that tomorrow we’re having that meeting with the New York team for the hockey game we’re hosting. “Fuck.” I shouldn’t eat the donut but my anxiety levels are through the roof. How could I forget about the meeting and the game?
“What?”
“I’m helping Victor organize a hockey game against the Rangers. They have to play a fundraiser game against our office team here and do a barbecue afterward.” I laugh nervously, realizing I’ll have to play hockey against Lawrence. “The meeting is tomorrow and I completely forgot about it.”
“Our beer league team is going to play an NHL team?” She can’t hold back her grin.
“Yeah.” I blink and stare at the screen.
“Aren’t you the one decent player on the team?” Sukii lifts an eyebrow.
“No, there’s a couple of us.” I take a bite and close my eyes. The food should taste like heaven but stress eating never does.
“So the Rangers are coming here tomorrow for a meeting?” Her eyes dazzle with delight. I’m pretty sure it’s the opposite expression to what I’m making.
22
The meeting
Tuesday, June 20
Lori
The elevator is a whole new level of no. The air is polluted with too many dudes, and someone has been an ass and farted. I hold my breath and lean into Brady who always smells like an aftershave commercial, in case I can’t hold it long enough.
Brady’s face is getting redder and I realize he’s holding his breath too. Our eyes meet and he smiles, making me laugh and blast my breath all over Matt’s cheek. He grimaces but doesn’t glance back.
The doors open and we escape into the fresh air as the guys laugh and joke like ten-year-olds. Matt gives us both one of his uppity asshole glares. “I don’t want to know which one of you did it,” he says before he turns and strolls down the hall.
“So this is her building?” Brady asks too loudly as we pass what appears to be a bullpen of office cubicles. Eyes lift but these people are accustomed to athletes and celebrities. They barely bat eyelashes. “And she didn’t text or call?”
“Nope,” I feel like an idiot but Millie and Bev have both said Jenny was likely exhausted and back to work, and she probably needed a night to piece it all together. They called it laundry night. I don’t know if it’s a metaphor or what. “I came on too hard.”
“What I want to know is how amazing was that sex?” Brady leans in like he might lower his voice, but he doesn’t. “Because thus far this girl has you looking like a bitch. Chasing after her golf cart the same way my grandpa used to run his old dog. Then you spend thousands of dollars having her apartment unpacked and cleaned by a team of professional housekeepers while she sleeps?”
“Shut up, Brady,” Matt offers as we follow Cap and our coach into a large room.
The seats are nice, sort of a laid out like a classroom so we can all sit and watch the presenter. I’m hoping Jenny is the person doing the presentation so we can talk afterward and I can try to recover from the unusually forward gesture of unpacking her house. I panicked. It seemed like the right thing to do, now I feel weird. And obsessed. I’m obsessed.
Holy fuck, get it together Eckelston.
Taking a deep breath, I get my seat next to Brady and wait for the talking to begin.
The guys are shooting the shit, talking about the last game and Matt’s wedding.
“How come you’re not on your honeymoon, buds?” Mike, one of our defensemen, asks Matt.
“We’re going later in the summer. After this guy here gets married.” Matt nods his head at Brady who beams.
“That’s right, fellas. I’m gonna be off the market as of the end of July, so if you’re interested in any of this, you better hit me up soon.” Brady holds his arms out.
We laugh but Coach barks, “Coldwell!” forcing us to straighten up as Jenny walks in the doorway with a group of geeky-looking people. She laughs at Brady and casually comes further into the room but the flush on her cheeks makes my breath hitch.
A tall man dressed in a sweet navy-blue Kiton suit, I have one that’s similar, starts to speak to us with a thick Russian accent. “Good morning, I’m Victor Stanovich. This is Jenny Snowdon. We’re part of your PR team here at the firm.”
Jenny waves and smiles but there is a difference. Work Jenny and home Jenny and maybe even wedding Jenny are all different. She’s one of those weird people who can wear the hats and turn off aspects of their personality.
“I’m going to cut to the chase here, I have a flight in a few hours, and I’m sure you would rather be spending your day somewhere warm. As you all know, signing with a team means you agree to certain types of PR. The endorsements are great, but actual PR is important. The New Yorkers have to love you. They need to care about the team.” Victor points to Jenny. “Jenny will explain further on our plan to boost that.” He steps back and watches us as though he’s her henchman.
“Thanks, Mr. Stanovich.” Jenny smiles. “Good to see you all again so soon.” We laugh with her. “What Mr. Stanovich is saying is we are changing the way things are done here. We have decided that season ticket holders will now be entitled to VIP events where players will come and take part. There will be charities and galas that will include mingling with those pass holders. There will be events that are mandatory for players, timed particularly during playoffs to build cup craziness. All home games will have a theme. Pride. Kids. All abilities. With prizes related to the cause and donations made to charities involved in the theme. Sticks will be wrapped with rainbow tape and so on.”
“You want to add to the workload during the hardest part of the season?” Coach asks in a not so polite way.
“Yes, because cup hype is everything. And we can rotate the roster of who has to participate, so as not to stress any one player.” Jenny smiles but her tone is also one not to be reckoned with. “We have already put this plan into effect with teams in smaller cities. We did several test runs to see if the juice was worth the squeeze. It was. Season passes have sold out in all the major cities and stadiums are full year round, even in the early part of the season.”
“That’s easy for you lot to say here in your offices. But you don’t understand the strain and stress on a player at the end of the season. What time they have to spare, they like to spend with their families.” Coach isn’t about to drop it and since he missed the wedding, he’s unaware he’s talking to someone who balanced school, work, and the Olympics.
“And all of that is taken into consideration, I promise.” Jenny offers a bright, sincere smile. “When we’ve run the tests in other cities, we ensured the schedule for PR was available to players well in advance and never took more than a couple of hours a week from anyone. The investment of their time was tenfold in financial return. And additionally, the players found that having a stadium filled with excited fans added a lot of reward. It boosted morale and led to more wins.”
Coach can’t argue with that. He nods and we move on.
“As such, we have decided that as your last act of community spirit and service before you all break for the summer, you will be playing a game here against a fun team. It’s a family event and an email has been sent with the details.”
“Like the Harlem Globetrotters?”
Cap laughs.
“Indeed. Maybe it will motivate you against the Senators next year. Because the loser will play the fun team again next year as this is going be annual.” She winks at him and he laughs as the rest of us clench our jaws at the mentioning of their name.
Victor watches Jenny as she moves through the meeting. His eyes land on her ass in her pencil skirt enough times that my mood sours.
“Bro, your resting bitch face is showing,” Brady whispers.
I relax but my stare remains on the older man. He licks his lips, staring right at her body and I sit up.
“Yeah, I saw that. He needs to die. Old fuck.” His instant dislike of Victor the Twat makes me love him even more.
We are both glaring the pervert to death when Jenny wraps it up. “And that is everything, so thank you for coming in. And we promise the stands will be filled with screaming fans next season.”
Coach stands and walks directly to her. I know him, he wants to see the proof and numbers she was speaking of. He is a predictably grumpy old man. Instead, I hear him apologize, “I didn’t recognize you, kid. I’m sorry for sounding so—”
“No, please don’t apologize. I understand. And normally the people in the office wouldn’t be able to comprehend how hard a hockey season is.” She is desperate for him not to bring it up.
“Then we are lucky to have you on our side,” he says as his cheeks blush.
His words surprise her and she offers her real smile, making my heart swell with pride like an idiot. She isn’t mine to be proud of. Not yet.
Coach says goodbye and I take my chance, nodding my head at the door to the office. She walks over and follows me through the door, slipping her hand in my arm and pulling me to the left instead of the right where everyone is walking for the elevator.
Brady and Matt follow me with their stare. I wave them off and let her corner me in a small alcove.