Ava #2
“I… I had a… a friend… who was deployed after it happened. As far as I know, he’s either still deployed or dead.” The words are out before I take even one second to gauge the consequences of sharing such a thing with my new boss.
“God, Ava,” he says, his voice little more than a whisper. “That’s crazy. You don’t have any way to find out what became of him?”
I shake my head because I don’t trust myself to speak. I can’t believe this is happening on my first day.
“I’ll reassign you.”
“No!” The last thing I want is special treatment. “No,” I say again, less emphatically this time. “There’s no need to reassign me. It will be a privilege to work for the family group.”
“Are you sure? Because it’s totally okay to say so if it’s not something you feel comfortable doing.”
“It’s fine, Trevor, but thank you for asking.” I absolutely refuse to come across as a victim on my first day. I’m not a victim. Not the way Miles and the other family members are.
“Okay, then. I’ll walk you over to meet Miles.”
“Could I ask one thing?”
“Of course.”
“Why me? Why someone brand new to work on such an important account with one of the partners?”
His face flushes with embarrassment. “Um, well, you’re the lowest-ranking account executive, so it costs us less to put you on a pro bono job.”
“Ah, okay. I see.”
“No offense or anything.”
“None taken. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“It’s also a great opportunity for you to wow the big boss with your awesomeness.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“None at all,” he says, grinning.
Tamping down the panic that wants to overtake me, I gather the laptop that’s on my desk and follow him down a winding set of hallways to the side-by-side offices of Miles Ferguson and Alexander Main.
Since they founded the firm twelve years ago, they’ve built it into one of the city’s premier public relations and marketing outfits while also earning a reputation for their philanthropic endeavors.
“Morning, Keith,” Trevor says to the young man at the desk outside the two closed doors. “This is Ava Lucas, the new account exec on my team.”
Keith stands to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Miles is expecting you. Go on in.”
“Thank you,” Trevor says.
I follow Trevor into a huge office with a panoramic view of the Hudson River and New Jersey.
Miles, who has gone completely gray since I last saw a photo of him, gets up to come around the desk to greet us. The gray hair is in stark contrast to his youthful face. On his lapel, he wears the family member survivor pin.
“Miles, meet Ava Lucas. Ava, Miles Ferguson.”
“A pleasure,” he says. His eyes, I notice, project the kind of sadness I understand all too well. My heart goes out to him. “Welcome to the team.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to be here.”
“Come,” he says, gesturing to a seating area with plush sofas. “Have a seat.”
As I cross the room, I take a surreptitious look at the wall of awards and photos with celebrities. His has been an illustrious career. On the credenza behind his desk is a single framed photo of him with his late fiancée, Emerson Phillips.
When we’re seated, Keith comes in with a tray bearing coffee and pastries.
“Thanks, Keith,” Miles says.
“Yes, thank you,” I add.
“Sure thing,” Keith says, smiling as he leaves us.
“Help yourself,” Miles says.
Though I’ve already exceeded my daily caffeine quota, I pour a cup of coffee and add cream.
“So,” Miles says when he and Trevor have poured their coffee, “Trev told you about the Star of the High Seas family group project?”
“He did, and I hope it’s appropriate to say that I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
I have so many questions. I want to know how he is, if he’s found new love or if he’s still single. I want to know everything about him and Emerson. I’ve read about them, but the details are fuzzy. As soon as I can, I’ll refresh my memory.
I watch him try to shake off the grief and focus on the present. “You’ve heard about the lawsuit the family group has filed.”
“Yes, I read about it.” That moment in Times Square comes back to me in sickening waves that have me fighting to keep my composure.
“Over the next few weeks and months, the goal is to get as much publicity for the lawsuit as we can. We’ll be booking Dawkins, myself and several of the other leaders of the family group everywhere we can.
The goal is mass saturation to get people talking about this again and to drum up support for the lawsuit.
We hope to force the government to own up to the mistakes that were made that led to calamity. ”
I open my laptop and begin to take notes as he speaks about the reasoning behind the lawsuit, the timing, the stakes, the hook to get the media on board and other aspects of the project. The activity helps to keep me focused on the present and not mired in the past.
“As you can imagine, this will be a difficult project at times, but I also believe it’ll be very rewarding for everyone involved.
We believe we have a slam-dunk case against the government that’ll be settled long before it goes to trial.
Former National Security Advisor Hartley has all but admitted in past interviews that they fucked up.
They didn’t take a credible threat seriously, and the result, as you know, was devastating. ”
Miles leans forward, arms on his knees, his expression earnest and intense.
“This lawsuit is not about money. We want to hold these people accountable for their failure to protect four thousand American citizens. We want to put current and future officials charged with keeping us safe on notice that they will be held accountable for their actions—or inaction—while in office.” He sits back, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity. “Their failures ruined our lives.”
I swallow the massive lump that’s lodged in my throat.
It ruined mine, too, not that I can tell him that, because speaking would require breathing, and I’m having trouble with that.
Rather than speak, I focus on taking copious notes.
I’ll do anything I can to help him and the other family members gain support for their cause.
He hands me a stack of paper. “These are all the requests for interviews we’ve received since the suit was filed.”
I sift through them, noting that every major network, newspaper and web outlet is represented, as are the big morning broadcasts, late-night shows and even Ellen DeGeneres has requested an interview. This is going to be huge. The kind of PR campaign I could’ve only dreamed about in my old job.
“Here’s the thing…”
I return my attention to Miles, who looks pained.
“Dawkins is a good guy, but he can be a loose cannon at times. I offered up my firm to handle the publicity at no charge to the family group in exchange for him agreeing to allow me to accompany him on all interviews. So you’ll be setting these up for both of us and then coming along to handle any logistics. Assuming that’s okay with you.”
Accompany my boss to the Today show, Jimmy Fallon, Ellen? Umm… “No problem at all. How soon were you hoping to begin?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll leave the coordination to you, but I’d suggest we start locally and handle the West Coast stuff all at once.”
I’ve never handled a national media campaign on my own, but I figure with everyone clamoring for more of this story, it won’t be difficult to get it done quickly.
Miles hands me another piece of paper. “Dawkins’s contact info. He’s standing by, waiting for his marching orders.”
“I’ll set it up and send you and Mr. Dawkins the schedule.”
“Thank you. I know it’s a lot to hit you with on your first day, but Trevor tells me you’re more than up for the challenge.”
“Absolutely. I’m honored to have been chosen to help with this.”
Miles stands and extends his hand. “I look forward to working with you.”
Juggling my laptop, I stand and shake his hand. “Likewise. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“If you could update me at the end of the day, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do.”
Trevor and I leave the office and return to our corner of the vast space. It’s an open concept with each team grouped together in glass cubicles. “He liked you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Ava… I want to be sure this is something you feel capable of taking on in light of what you shared earlier. We aren’t about emotional torture around here. I’d never hold it against you if you were to say it’s not going to work for you.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I’m fine. I swear.”
“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything. My door is always open.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep you both posted.”
“Sounds good.” He moves on to talk to others in our group.