Chapter 16 #2
I cross my arms, suspicious of this list of my professional accomplishments. “And?”
“Any one of these authors would benefit from your experience. You could change a stranger’s life, the same as you did mine.”
“Uh-huh…” I say, still suspicious.
She tosses the letters back onto the desk and turns to me with a determined glint in her quartz-colored eyes that says she’s up to something that’s going to be a giant pain in my ass. “Or, there’s a certain young Alpha on the island who could really use some positive PR right now.”
My chin pulls back. “Are you suggesting I launch a counter-campaign to change the town’s opinion of Jared?”
She cocks her head to the side. “What, you think you can’t do it?”
“Don’t play mind games with me,” I scowl, pushing away from the window. “I don’t need a pet project.”
“Sounds to me like that’s exactly what you need.” Chloe bounces on the cushion with excitement. “Help reshape the narrative and save a young Alpha’s reputation. Isn’t that what you do best?”
“What I do best is keep your deadlines straight and ensure your social media followers think you’re an outgoing person.” I return to the couch, sinking into the cushions again to give my knee a rest. “Jared needs legal help, not PR management.”
“He’s already got the legal side covered. That’s who Dominic is meeting with right now.” Chloe bounces over to join me, animated with the thrill of problem-solving. “What he really needs is someone who understands how to shift public perception. Someone who can help him tell his side of the story.”
“I write press releases and book tour schedules. I don’t perform miraculous resurrections of reputations.”
Chloe raises an eyebrow. “You salvaged my career after my crazy superfan hacked my account and almost ruined me.”
I frown at her. “That was damage control. This is different.”
“Is it? Jared’s being unfairly maligned by people who don’t have all the facts.” She leans closer, her next sentences slipping out in a quiet rush. “He doesn’t deserve the backlash. He was trying to help someone.”
“And it would help the resort,” I say dryly, well aware of where her loyalties lie. “You can’t tell me they’re not being flooded with demands for Jared to be fired.”
“I’d never lie to you.”
The spark in Chloe’s eyes tells me she’s planted the seed, watching it take root despite my protests. It’s the same spark she gets when she’s figured out the perfect plot twist halfway through writing a manuscript.
“I need to focus on finding my own place, not take on a new project.”
“Of course.” Chloe rises from the couch, collecting her bag and leaving the muffin container on the coffee table.
“Just a thought. Though it would be nice to see those skills of yours helping someone who could actually use them, instead of watching you mope over taking on a new author whom you have no passion for.”
She heads toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “Think about it, Grady. You’re good at fixing other people’s messes. Maybe try fixing one that matters.”
The door closes behind Chloe, the soft click echoing in the sudden quiet of Kyle’s cabin.
I pick up the condo brochure again. The decision really doesn’t require much thought. I either move or I don’t. Relocating won’t offer a distraction for long, and then I’ll be right back where I am now, only more alone.
Would I belong there any more than I belong here? Pinecrest, with its tourist bustle and harbor restaurants. Misty Pines, with its quiet beaches and sense of found family. Or somewhere else entirely, some third option I haven’t yet considered.
I push myself up from the couch and limp over to the kitchen counter, where I left my laptop yesterday.
I slide onto one of the stools and open a browser window. My usual bookmarks wait in an orderly row of publishing industry news, literary agents’ blogs, and Aurora Storm fan sites I monitor for potential PR issues.
But I skip them now to type a different search into the bar: Jared Masterson water taxi Pinecrest.
The results load in an avalanche of speculation and accusation.
Video thumbnails show Jared frozen in unflattering moments, context stripped away in favor of the most damning impression.
Trending hashtags of #PredatorAlpha, #WaterTaxiTerror, and #JaredTheJerk rise to the top of the feed, each one another blow against Jared’s reputation.
I click through several links, my stomach tightening with each new distortion. Comment sections overflow with righteous condemnation from strangers who know nothing about the young Alpha.
I scroll, searching for the new releases of the full video and Misty Pines’s press announcement, but can’t find them on the first page, or even the second.
This isn’t just gossip anymore. It’s a systematic character assassination.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. For five years, I’ve managed Aurora Storm’s public image, protecting Chloe from the worst of the internet’s vitriol while building her reputation book by book.
I’m practiced in the art of turning the tides of public opinion. In dismantling false narratives and rebuilding truth in their place.
I open a new document, then second-guess myself.
Is this crossing a line? This isn’t my fight. I’ve hardly spoken to Jared, and he hasn’t asked for my help.
If I take on his cause, it means wading into controversy when I should be focusing on my own fresh start.
But there will always be a condo up for sale. Jared’s reputation, though, and his chance at future happiness, are being decided now.
Maybe helping Jared would prove my fate isn’t tied to Aurora Storm’s risen star. Maybe I can still change things. Maybe I still matter.
My fingers settle on the keyboard, and I begin to type.
Anatomy of a Digital Lynch Mob: How Fifteen Seconds of Edited Video Destroyed an Innocent Man’s Reputation.
Maybe I can’t fix my own story yet.
But I can try to save his.