Chapter 16
16
LEO
“ Y ou ready to go?” I call to Briar, who’s still cooped up in her room getting ready.
We have a meeting with a new publicist today. With the help of Briar, my agent was able to find one within a week. The only issue is they want to seriously talk about an action plan to repair my image.
The more things I can fuck up, the more I will fuck up. I’m not quite sure this is a great idea, but I’m willing to think about it.
“Yeah, one sec,” she calls.
Elara is with one of my sister’s friends, the ditzy redhead, who also offered to take Champ as well. They were going to explore a park somewhere.
The second I started worrying about Elara with someone I didn’t know well, I shut my brain off. She’s not my kid. She’s adorable, and she loves me. But she’s not my kid. The only responsibility I have to her is to make sure she’s safe when her mom isn’t around.
I look down at my jeans, wondering if I should change into something a little more fancy. I mean, they’re my good pair of jeans. I’m not wearing shorts or sweats, so that’s saying something. Even made an exception and even wore my fancy shoes. Not sure it goes with jeans and my gray Henley, but it’s as good as they’re going to get.
Rather go in not pretending to be someone I’m not, right?
Deciding that I’m dressed okay, I lean against the wall, fidgeting with my watch.
When her door finally opens, I nearly choke.
Briar has always been gorgeous. Of course she’s beautiful. But she’s an ice queen, and her brother is my best friend.
My best friend who fucked my sister, but for all my faults, that was never on my mind.
But I had never seen Briar in a sundress.
Catnip for men, sundresses are the ultimate fantasy, and for the very first time since knowing her, I start to wonder if she’s wearing anything underneath.
And I quickly give my brain a smack.
What the hell?
But that’s not all. Not only is the sundress a beautiful shade of baby blue with an open back, but her golden hair is braided, tied together in the back by a simple blue scarf.
Briar wears simple makeup, her freckles littering her face like stars. Her brown eyes meet mine, and I’m not sure how I’m possibly supposed to remember what we were getting ready for.
“Um,” I say, coughing once. “I…”
She smirks. “You okay pretty boy?”
“You think I’m pretty?” I smile, my brain buzzing in my skull.
Not saying anything, she turns back around to grab her little white sandals and bag.
“Now I’m ready.”
“Your car is too fancy for me, Leo. I feel like just sitting here is getting it dirty.”
Don’t think it, don’t think it, I chant to myself.
It could be dirtier…
What is it about a woman in a sundress that makes my brain turn off?
You see plenty of women in sundresses every day…
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, gripping the wheel tighter.
“Excuse me?” Briar says from the passenger seat, offended.
I stiffen, desperately wanting to just disappear. “Shit, I’m sorry Briar. Not you. Was just… talking to myself.”
I can feel her eyes on me, confused, and when we pull up to a red light, I turn to her. “I promise it’s fine.”
“Okay…” she says.
“I promise.”
“Jesus okay Leo, I get it.”
The rest of the ride is quiet. Well, it’s quiet between the two of us. My head is anything but.
Finally at the office, I get out of the car, waiting for Briar when I realize she has no idea how to open the door herself. Pushing the button on my fob, it opens itself, and she climbs out, looking sheepish. “See, I don’t have those kind of issues with mine.”
“Your car is a liability.”
She grunts. “I love that thing.”
“I’m sure you do. Doesn’t change the fact that the thing is a casket on wheels.”
She glowers at me.
“Okay. Game plan. We go in there, you hang out while they tell me whatever they want to tell me, I pretend like I understand them, and we leave. Got it?”
She shakes her head, a strand of hair coming loose.
“Leo, you’re going to go in there and actually listen to them. This is your career on the line. You can’t keep fucking things up.”
Ouch.
I bite my cheek to stop myself from saying anything, annoyed.
“Fine. I’ll go in and actually listen to them. I’ll take notes like a good boy.”
Briar nods. “Good.”
Ugh.
I hold the door open for her as she heads inside, and when we reach their main office, Briar takes a seat outside as I’m shown into the back.
A young woman steps out of the office, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, her lips red. “Mr. Warner, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Zhuri Bakshi. Thank you so much for coming in today.”
“Thank you for taking me,” I tell her seriously.
Because no one else would. Literally.
She lets me into the room and shows me to a chair. There are two men there as well, older with graying hair, their faces serious.
“We have a lot of information we want to go over with you, and we’re excited to get started. You comfortable?” she asks.
I nod.
“Great. Okay,” she opens the manilla folder in front of her, handing me some paperwork. “We have some forms that you need to look over and sign. Your lawyer already approved them, as he said he told you, which is great. Cuts down on time. All we need now is your signature wherever it requires it.”
“Can we speak about the plans you’ve come up with first?” I ask her apprehensively. It’s not like I really have a choice though. I need this, whether I think it’s a good idea or not, and I can’t just walk out. This is my only option .
But I don’t have to act desperate, that’s for sure.
“Of course. Here,” she takes out another stack of paper, pushing it across the table to me. “This is our action plan. We took a look at exactly what your problems were and put together steps in order to ensure that your image stays clean, and we can get your name out of the press.”
Taking it from her, I flip through the pages, not really understanding what I’m looking at.
“What does this mean?” I ask, pointing to the first bullet point.
She smiles a little, her bright teeth showing. “That means that we’re going to approve a relationship for you, Mr. Warner.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that by signing with us, you agree to participate in a PR relationship. It’s going to be beneficial for you, and we won’t force you with anyone you don’t feel comfortable with, I promise. But you need some good press, and we need to find you someone who will get you that.”
“What do you mean by a PR relationship?” I ask, confused. Is it like a normal relationship, and they talk about me to the press?
“Someone you’ll be seen out and about with, and the country will fall in love with. Someone that will help take negative press away from you. Make people think you changed.”
I’ve heard enough negative things about me that her words don’t hurt. Sure, do I like being reminded that my personality isn’t something people like? No. Or that thousands of people want me to change who I am? Absolutely not. But once you hear it a million times, it starts to hurt a little less.
And sometimes you lean into it. If people think you’re one way, why not be that way ?
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” I tell her, leaning back.
She purses her lips, looking down at the form before back up at me. “With all due respect, Leo, you don’t really have a choice. These are the terms of us working together. We have high standards for all of our clients, and we want to ensure that they stay squeaky clean so that everyone’s happy.”
“But I’m paying you to make sure that my image is clean,” I tell her, more annoyed than anything.
She shakes her head.
“You’re paying us to help you. But Leo, we don’t need your business. We have a lot of clients much less well known than you, who are much richer. We take on clients we think we can help. Now, the question is, can we help you? Are you even capable of being helped?”
Scowling, I think about this.
I don’t want to change. I think that’s the biggest issue. I’ve been content with how things are. At least, I think so.
But I can’t deny that things would be much easier for me if I had help.
I also can’t deny that I haven’t been threatened in the last couple of months with brands not working with me anymore, and my coaches giving me warnings with every new story.
They can’t have someone as their quarterback who can’t even lead himself in the right direction.
“Do I have any say in the person?” I ask suddenly, realizing what needs to happen.
It hits me like a bus, the realization that this is going to be my new normal, and that I need to get over myself and figure out the best case scenario for myself.
If I have to do this, the least I can do is have a say in the woman I have to spend time with.
“Sure,” Zhuri says, leaning back. The men beside her lean forward, one of them with his arms crossed, his beady eyes staring daggers at me, and the other leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands.
“I have an assistant. She’s pretty, her brother is my best friend, and she stays out of trouble. Best yet, she has a daughter.”
Zhuri’s eyes go from skeptical to excited as she leans forward again, a smile crossing her face. “She sounds absolutely perfect. We need a girl-next-door type of woman. Someone that anyone’s mom would love?—”
“Well, my mom’s in Scotland preoccupied with five large cows, so,” I say under my breath.
“We don’t care about your mom, we care about the average mom around the country,” one of the men spits, and I shoot him a glare.
“Look,” I say, my hands clasped together on the table. “In order for this to work for me, I need to have someone I can trust. And when it comes to trust, I trust that woman. She already lives with me. I don’t have to fake anything, because if you think I’m a good actor, you’re sorely mistaken and clearly haven’t dug up that much on me.”
It’s true. I can’t act to save my life. There’s a reason I don’t do commercials anymore.
“Are you two already dating?” Zhuri asks. “that would throw a bit of a wrench in things.”
I shake my head. “We’re not dating. No feelings involved. She’s just my assistant, but we’re close.”
I may be stretching the truth here just a little. Although I think Briar is great, we’re not the closest.
But I do appreciate her, and when it comes to this, she’s the only one I would trust.
That part is true.
Zhuri nods, clicking her tongue before sifting through more papers. “If you can get her to agree, bring her back to us. But we have final say.”
“When do you need to meet with her?”
“The sooner the better.”