THIRTY-SEVEN
Finn
I wake up to the sound of my mom banging on the door of the pool house. I still haven’t gotten my own place, but to be fair, I have been spending most nights at Maeve’s. Last night, though, Sarah stayed over with her, since she’s been struggling with her anxiety. I feel like it’s mostly my fault, for taking away part of her big moment with the show and the article, and for doing this movie with Cassidy.
“Finn! Get up and get into the kitchen. Right now!”
My mom sounds pissed, but I can’t think of anything I’ve done. I rack my brain as I pull sweats and a T-shirt over my boxers. Did I leave the seat up? Break something? Forget to lock the house? I’m still mulling over what it could be when I walk into the kitchen and am stunned to find not just my mom and dad, but our family publicist, Sandra.
“What’s happening?”
My dad turns his computer screen around toward me. “ Tell Me How You Really Feel ’s Finn Sutton Is Paid Nearly Double His Female Cohost’s Salary.”
If this were Daily Mail , Page Six , even People , it wouldn’t be the end of the world. But it’s a New York Times article.
I grab the computer and start reading, my stomach dropping. The article says that I was always paid commensurately with rival host Paul Myers, while Maeve was paid roughly sixty percent of our salaries. The pay jump incentive we accomplished was percentage based and did make Maeve the highest-paid female podcaster or higher paid than Paul Myers, but still left her lagging behind my salary.
“Who did they reach out to for comment?” I mutter as I read. It said Streamify and my team declined to comment.
“Derek and Mark,” Sandra says curtly.
“Did you know about this?” my mom asks. She sounds angry, justifiably so. She took a huge stand over the pay gap a few years ago, and my dad backed her up. Since then, the pay on every single one of their projects has been not just equal, but public, and her foundation has been championing the issue in different industries.
“No!” I protest. “I had no idea. I assumed we were getting paid the same.”
My mom and Sandra shoot each other a look. “You know better than to assume that,” my mom says tightly.
In my gut I know that’s true … but I also didn’t really think about it. I rack my mind, thinking back to how all this went down. Derek gave me the contract, and I asked if Maeve was good with the contract. I think he said she’d already signed hers? That he got me a good deal? “Fuck,” I mutter. “You’re right. This is my fault. I just … didn’t think. I know that I should know; it’s just didn’t occur to me.”
“It didn’t occur to you because it doesn’t have to. Men always use that excuse: they don’t think, don’t notice, don’t know. I raised you better than this, Finn.” My mom’s disappointment is crushing. I can only imagine how I’ll feel when I experience Maeve’s.
“What do I do? Actually, wait …” I don’t have my phone. Without another word I run back to the pool house. I need to talk to Maeve. My mom is mad, but Maeve must be furious. When I see I have no texts or calls from her, I don’t know whether to be scared or relieved. Maybe she hasn’t read it. Maybe this can be contained. This is going to be humiliating for her and send her anxiety through the roof, and I really want to stop it if it’s at all possible.
I run back into the kitchen. “How do I fix this? Can we kill the article? I could talk to Mark and Derek and release a statement.”
Sandra smiles wanly. “I spoke to Mark, and he says you knew about the disparity. Would you mind opening your emails?”
“That’s impossible,” I rush to say. But my gut is sinking. “I would never have been okay with that.”
I start scrolling back through old emails. I barely remember those weeks. I was lost in a fog, trying to get Maeve to talk to me and beating myself up over my decision to date and then dump Cassidy. But eventually I find the email with the contract.
I got you a nice bump up from what was discussed in the meeting. Good to sign. Like I said previously, Maeve’s contract is already signed.
“He doesn’t say I was being paid more exactly,” I say quietly. But reading it now, it’s clear what he was saying. I hand the offensive email over to my parents and Sandra to read. “How do I fix this?”
Sandra screenshots the email and texts it to herself. “This reflects badly on the entire family. I’ll draft a statement saying ignorance isn’t an excuse, but you are working directly with Streamify to make this right. We’ll have to get them to bump Maeve to your pay grade. And then you can donate all of the extra money you’ve made to your mom’s equal pay foundation and pledge to make your contracts public from here on out. We need to release the contracts for the movie too.”
“Done.”
“I’ll get right on that statement.” Sandra opens her computer and starts typing. “I think you should part ways with Mark as well.”
My dad winces. “Are you sure? We’ve been with him for a long time. We went to USC together …”
“It’s done,” my mom says, throwing my dad a sharp look. “He never should have done that to Maeve. The negotiation should have been a collaboration between him and Shazia.”
“You’re right,” my dad agrees reluctantly. “I’ll talk to him myself. And Sandra, can you set up a meeting between Derek, all of us, Shazia, and our entertainment attorney?”
“On it,” she agrees. She’s typing rapidly, clearly planning on turning our kitchen into a crisis and triage center for this.
I look to my mom. “What about Maeve? What should I do?”
My voice cracks on the last word, and my mom’s eyes soften slightly as she looks at me. “Finn, you’re an adult. We just cleaned up the bulk of your mess. But only you can fix things with Maeve.”
“But don’t forget flowers,” my dad adds. “You’ll need the basics, on top of everything else.”
My mom and Sandra both roll their eyes. But I’ll take any advice I can get. Maeve still hasn’t said anything, and I want to try to intercept her seeing the article. Maybe she’s busy with Sarah, making breakfast and getting manicures or something. Maybe I can talk to her before she reads the article, which is unforgiving, and the comments, Threads, and TikToks, which are scathing.
I text Maeve. I’m coming over with coffee
I get no response.