Chapter 11
NOVEMBER FIFTH WAS brIGHT, clear, and cold. Like a switch had flipped on the seasons, fall was well and truly here. Christine pulled her corduroy peacoat and scarf around her as she walked to work. It had been five days since the disastrous events she tried to forget.
After a Sunday of self-pity—making chocolate chip pancakes and bacon and spending oh-so-many hours swiping left on Tinder—she decided to channel her anger and embarrassment into a healthier outlet. She did everything in her power not to think about Erik.
On Monday morning, she went jogging and tried not to think about how sexy he looked playing the piano.
On Monday night, she did laundry and refused to recall how he’d rescued her onstage.
On her Tuesday morning commute, she wouldn’t remember his serenade and how it brought tears to her eyes.
On Wednesday night’s dinner with Val, she tried not to reflect on how good his lips felt pressed against hers and how his touch drove her wild.
When she wasn’t ‘not thinking’ about Erik, she was mentally castigating her foolishness. She’d seen the red flags—the controlling nature, the temper, the aloofness. What business did she have developing feelings for someone so utterly unsuitable for her? A little attention and she overlooked all warnings to the contrary. She wasn’t someone who fell victim to bad boy crushes. Girls who did were bored and needed drama. Christine neither needed nor cultivated drama in her life. She wanted stability. She needed to date a nice boy who wanted her around and asked her opinion before making decisions. She needed a man who wasn’t afraid to share his feelings as opposed to lashing out in the middle of a highly satisfying—or almost so—grope session.
Going to work on Thursday, she resolved to get her résumé in order. Career Services started its graduate recruiting efforts in late January. Christine would work her ass off to get the gala in order and begin the process of getting placed at a reputable firm after graduation. It was a good plan, making her feel more in control of her destiny. Gardner Industries was obviously off the table, but she had a strong résumé and—soon—a degree from one of the country’s top business schools. There was a lot to be optimistic about.
Placing her coat and bag on her chair, Christine was momentarily distracted by several unread text messages from Meg. Before she could read them, the intercom clicked on at her desk.
“Christine, can you come to my office immediately?” Marie’s tone conveyed urgency.
Christine tilted her head in concern and groaned. She knew Marie and Erik were somehow connected beyond the opera. Still, she didn’t know the extent of their relationship. What was she walking into? She decided to play it off, simply grabbing her pad and pen before walking into Marie’s office as if nothing unusual had happened the weekend before.
“Morning, Marie! What can I do for you?”
“Christine, good morning. Thank you for joining me. I needed to talk to you about…a recent development.”
Christine gave Marie a quizzical glance.
“My daughter texted me at 8:00 a.m. to let me know her friend and my employee had a viral moment over the weekend.”
“What are you talking about?”
Marie pulled out her phone and pulled up a video on YouTube. The quality wasn’t fantastic, but it was clear enough. Christine was on stage singing at Fedora. The footage captured the fallen microphone and a sympathetic groan from the person recording. Then came the magical moment when Erik opened his mouth to sing, and Christine joined in. “He rescued her!” the recorder whispered while the song continued. There was no missing the affectionate looks between Erik and Christine as the song concluded.
“The video is labeled ‘singer fail averted by love.’” Marie gave a dry smile and shook her head. “Didn’t know either of you could sing. It’s got five million views already.” She paused. “There’s also one of Erik singing by himself, though that one only has a few hundred thousand views—less dramatic, I gather.”
“Oh God.” Christine covered her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed and so sorry.”
“Why? It’s your personal time. Erik told me you’d struck up a friendship. You didn’t do anything wrong, but this viral clip changes things for both of you. Especially for Erik.” She paused. “He prefers to be kept out of the spotlight.”
Christine took that to mean Marie was aware of Erik’s unique situation. She assumed that might be the case. Regardless, Marie was right. Erik’s need for privacy was almost pathological, not that Christine blamed him for his desire. He’d purposely cultivated a boring reputation—being up on stage would generate curiosity.
Christine’s eyes danced as she considered the repercussions. “Does he know yet? About the video?”
“I thought perhaps you might want to tell him before he hears the news some other way. ”
“No.” She tried to look and sound breezy. “We’re no longer speaking.”
Marie looked up, dismayed. Christine couldn’t decipher the feeling behind it, and she didn’t feel comfortable asking.
“I see,” Marie said, pursing her lips together. “I’ll reach out to Mr. Khan, though he might already know. In the meantime, if anyone calls about you or Erik, the company line is no comment until we hear otherwise. We don’t comment on the personal lives of our board members or employees.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, Marie?” Christine looked at her boss with a kind of apathetic contemplation of how best to proceed. She couldn’t undo what happened but could try to curtail any unnecessary speculation.
“You disagree?”
“I just find ‘no comment’ usually stokes curiosity. Better a bland response—something close enough to the truth will discourage curiosity. Erik Gardner played piano and chose to get up on stage at a Halloween event.”
“And the affection between you in the song?”
Christine’s face heated, but she held Marie’s stare. “What affection? It’s a love song, that’s all. Let them make of that what they will.”
“And now, folks, we have a fun story out of New York. This weekend, the CEO of Gardner Industries was caught in a sweet viral moment, saving a singer from an embarrassing moment on-stage.”
A cell phone video showed when the microphone fell on stage with a clang, and Christine bent to pick it up, looking panicked. Erik’s voice rose a second later to save the awkward moment that led to their unintentional duet.
“According to his bio on Gardner Industries’ website, Erik Gardner used to perform in piano competitions in his youth. Another video from the Halloween event showed Gardner singing a second song as well. No word yet from Gardner Industries if their CEO plans to take a leave of absence to appear on The Masked Singer .” The anchor was chuckling at his own joke.
“I think that was a romantic moment, Mike. See how they’re looking at each other?”
“Might be right, Robin. It’ll be interesting to see if the stock responds to the publicity.” He laughed as he introduced the following story.
“ Fuck! ” Erik yelled, picking up his cell phone to dial his COO’s number. Before he could dial, the doors to the elevator opened and Reza walked in. The look on Reza’s face showed he already knew why Erik looked ready to kill.
“I’m on the news? Fuck—how did this happen?” Erik flung his hands out at the television.
“Video gone viral—someone was recording at the right moment.” Reza picked up the remote and muted the sound.
“How are we going to handle this? I’m supposed to fly under the radar. Fuck!”
“Have you spoken to Christine? It’s only a matter of time before her name gets out there, too.”
“She’s not speaking to me right now.” Despite his best efforts, Erik didn’t manage his aloof veneer.
“She’s not speaking to you right now.” Reza looked pained.
“Yes.” Erik’s voice was clipped, and he refused to meet Reza’s exasperated expression.
Reza sighed wearily and sat down in one of Erik’s armchairs. “This happened after the scene at the nightclub? ”
“Obviously.”
“The one where you’re making moon-eyes at her.”
“I was not making moon— Do you have a point?”
“How did this go downhill so quickly?”
Erik didn’t respond. Instead, he rewound the clip on Bloomberg.
“It was on The Today Show as well. They called you her knight in pinstripe armor.”
“Great, just great.” Erik wanted to throw something, preferably heavy, at the news media members. “What’s our response?”
“That’s why I’m here. What do you want us to do with this?”
“Bland non-denial. No smoke. No fire. Two friends doing live band karaoke on Halloween.”
“The foundation fielded a call from Jessie Skies’ people. She was impressed with your singing. She wants to know if you want to do a duet with her at the New Year’s Eve gala. She said you can pick the song. I think she wants to use you to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”
“Is this a serious request?”
“I’m assuming that’s a no?”
“That’s a hell no.” He sat down to watch the clip again while meditating on how bad this could get for him and Christine.
According to the studies Christine read on the topic, gossip stories like hers lasted about seven days in the news cycle. This meant she could expect to see her face on-screen for another three to four days before it became old news. In the meantime, she deleted TikTok from her phone and focused on her job—and, of course, not thinking about Erik. Another viral story was bound to come out any day now. Maybe one day, she’d even laugh about this.
She wasn’t in a good mood these days, but her anxiety had largely burned itself out. She was even able to chuckle with Rafe and Professor Dryer over the matter at their weekly review session.
“Christine, your progress from September is impressive. I’d still like more passion in your delivery, but at least you sound convincing now,” Prof. Dryer offered. “I’d like to work more on your question response time when we meet next.”
“If all else fails, get up there and sing your thesis defense, Christine,” Rafe suggested.
“Perhaps Beyoncé. What do you think, Professor?”
Professor Dryer laughed and paused to explain the joke to Rafe, who gave an amused eye roll. As she prepared to leave, Rafe cornered her.
“So I gather you and Erik Gardner have become friendly. You can tell him I say hello.”
“I don’t know about that.” She shook her head. “He was just helping me with my stage fright. It was no big deal.”
“Okay.” He paused, clearly doubtful. “You know, you really do have a lovely voice. Maybe I can take you out for karaoke when all this is done?”
Was Rafe asking her on a date? He looked at her with shy expectancy, and she had no idea how to respond. She cared about him, but dating was a back-burner priority, to say the least.
Or at least, it was until Erik poured his heart out in a song.
“I’ve got a lot on my plate right now—ask me again in the spring?” She smiled at him and realized it felt forced. Was she simply sparing his feelings? Her smile faltered infinitesimally.
Rafe didn’t seem to notice. “I’m willing to wait that long.”
Dating Rafe? Christine never even thought of him in that light. Part of her still remembered him as the older-brother type who brought her cookies. Maybe when she had more distance from Erik and his company, she’d be able to see him differently. She’d said she wanted to date a nice boy—maybe Rafe would be good for her.
Finally, things settled back into their usual rhythm. The gala was coming together well, and she’d put the finishing touches on her résumé two nights ago. Val and Theresa were trying to convince her to fly to North Carolina for Thanksgiving to visit Nicole, and she was entertaining the idea. She hadn’t seen Nicole since last Christmas, and it would make Val happy to have them all together. Some time out of the city would help clear her head. And the weather in North Carolina at that time of year would be a nice reprieve from the Arctic blast that came to Manhattan every winter.
The shrill vocal fry of a wannabe influencer echoed through the main thoroughfare in the office not far from the entrance to her cubicle.
“So in today’s Jessie Skies news, we have word our girl wanted to perform with Erik Gardner—you know, the sexy masked man from the infamous singer rescue video from Halloween—at his charity event where she’s performing on New Year’s Eve. The dude runs an opera! Unfortunately, our man said no, which would make anyone mad for J’s sake, but word on the street is the real cockblock is coming from his damsel in distress, Christine Derring. According to sources close to Derring, she told Erik absolutely not. Apparently she’s threatened by our girl—and who can blame her? Still, who is this nobody to get in the way of good music?”
Christine’s eyes widened at the audio. She peeked out of her cubicle, spotting two interns huddled around a cell phone playing TikTok.
“Can’t believe it from her…” a pink-haired girl with a pixie cut whispered to her friend.
“Me neither, but Cynthia said Jessie Skies’ people requested the duet.”
Almost numb, Christine quickly picked up her cell phone to find twenty missed calls from unknown numbers and several text messages from Val, her foster sisters, and other friends from college and grad school. She listened to each of the seven voicemails with increasing dismay.
“Christine, this is Lori Coleman from In Touch wondering if we could ask some questions about your relationship with Erik Gardner.”
“Miss Derring, this is Rowan Mann from Slate . Can we ask you a few questions about Erik Gardner and Jessie Skies?”
An Instagram message from a stranger was more invasive and frightening: Bitch, why won’t you let your boyfriend sing with Jessie? Are you so scared of a little competition?
So much for the notoriety dying down. Her heart was racing at a breakneck speed. The walls of the office were closing in on her, and she began to hyperventilate.
“Christine?” She registered being called and looked up to see Meg Giry watching her with an alarmed expression. “I came to see my mom. What happened? You look like you’re about to pass out!”
“Jessie Skies’ fans are out for my blood,” she whispered, handing Meg her phone. “Something about how I won’t let Erik Gardner sing with her at the gala. I didn’t even know this was a thing.”
“Her people reached out after Halloween.” A snide Cynthia sidled up, a satisfied grin on her face. “I passed along the request to Mr. Gardner’s people, but they made it clear he wasn’t interested in participating. I don’t know how they concluded you were a factor.”
“Oh, really?” Meg folded her arms in front of her. “Just what did you say to them? ”
“I informed them Mr. Gardner’s duet with Christine was based on their friendship, and for the sake of that friendship, he’s not interested in singing with anyone else.”
“You bitch, you fed them a narrative. Now they think Christine is standing in Jessie Skies’ way.” Meg’s rage was palpable. “You threw Christine to the wolves.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cynthia waved her hand airily. “If Christine’s name is in the press, she should understand that’s a consequence of having such important friendships.”
“Or maybe you’re just bitter Erik Gardner doesn’t think you’re worth his attention.”
“I’m here to do my job, Meg. Perhaps you should do the same. Christine, I’m still waiting on the attendance update.”
Meg bristled. “I’m taking her home. You better hope my mother doesn’t hear what you did.”
Cynthia’s mien dropped before she straightened her back. “Go right ahead. Perhaps I’ll find a new role working with Jessie Skies’ camp. I had a great conversation with her management company.”
The message was clear. More would come out if Meg and Christine didn’t keep their mouths shut. Christine could barely wrap her head around one gossip article about her. Private equity firms didn’t hire reality stars. This needed to die down now, or her post-graduation career options would dwindle to nothing.
“I still think we should tell my mom what happened. She could take this to Erik Gardner and the board. His team could threaten Cynthia with legal recourse.”
“Meg, I just want to close my eyes and wake up two weeks from now. Hopefully, it’ll have died down by then.”
Meg had gotten the two of them an Uber back to Christine’s apartment, although she’d tried to convince Christine to stay at her place.
“I don’t have any clothes at your place, Meg. Plus, I don’t think your roommate will appreciate a couch surfer.”
Meg grimaced. “Also, Cecile has a big mouth. Can’t trust her to keep anything off social media.” Something caught Meg’s attention. “Christine, don’t turn, but a photographer is in the blue Camry across the street.” She put a hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Just keep walking, don’t let them know you’ve seen. There’s nothing to see.”
“There is literally nothing to see. This is ridiculous!” she whispered, but followed her friend’s guidance. Christine lived in an ancient brownstone that had been a mansion once upon a time. Her home in the basement level had light from the street-level window. It had never occurred to her to be worried about her privacy until now. Her gauzy curtains would have to be replaced with a thicker fabric. She huffed as she got her mail.
“Looks like someone sent you flowers.” Meg looked at a large arrangement of roses waiting on the table by the building’s mailboxes. She picked up the cellophane-wrapped box as they walked into Christine’s small studio apartment.
Throwing her things on her bed, Christine opened the fridge and pulled out the box of Franzia Chardonnay she’d purchased when the video first went viral. If there was ever a time to indulge, it was now.
“Put them on the kitchen counter. Who’s the card from?”
“‘Sorry for all the fuss.—E.’” Meg looked at her. “Erik? Gardner, I mean?”
Christine would have to ponder the familiarity with which Meg referred to Erik by his first name later. “That doesn’t sound like him,” Christine said, examining the card. “This is odd. ”
“Maybe he feels bad about the video going viral. Have you heard from him at all?”
Christine shook her head. She could text him, but she really didn’t want to talk to him. She harrumphed inwardly. She was lying to herself. She desperately wanted to talk to him but was guarding her heart. She examined the flowers closely—strange. He sent Garret over with a care package when she was sick. He didn’t strike her as the kind to send flowers through a third-party company. She dug around the drawer on her nightstand, found the card from her get-well basket, and compared it to the card from the floral arrangement. He’d signed his name on the previous card, but not this time—just an ‘E.’ Something was off. A dark suspicion occurred to her.
“Meg, let me see the arrangement.”
Meg handed it over, and Christine walked it to the sink. Slowly, she pulled the stems out one by one. They’d been inserted into green foam to keep the arrangement stable. This wasn’t remarkable, but her paranoia was growing.
“What are you doing?” Meg asked, and Christine shook her head and raised a finger to her lips, signaling Meg to quiet down. Several minutes later, Christine reached the bottom of the arrangement. Gingerly, she lifted the green block. The container had a false bottom that contained a recording device and transmitter. Both women stared in astonishment.
“Is that what I think it is?” Meg mouthed silently.
Christine nodded. Her rage and fear at the invasion of privacy came to a head, and she spoke loudly, “I’m assuming this is the photographer in the blue Camry. I hope you got your money’s worth.”
Across the street, a car sped away, its tires screeching down West Eighty-Fourth Street.
Christine gave Meg a dark look.