Chapter 9
Sometimes you can do everything as planned, and it works. And sometimes really annoying, stupid people with way too much time on their hands can ruin all of it.
Like right now, for instance, as I press “Play” again on a video about Bailey that, for all intents and purposes, is meant to be a hit piece.
And it’s . . . not good. It came out Thursday night—prime time for things to circulate through the weekend—and by Friday morning You Oughta Know had reposted it. It was like dropping a match in dry brush and walking away. By late morning it’s a wildfire.
“You’re watching it again?” Tessa asks, a concerned look on her face, her pad of paper on her lap, the entire page full of notes.
It’s the third time I’ve watched it, though I hate to give You Oughta Know the views. The first time through, I was in shock. The second elicited anger. This time I’m watching for strategy. Because I’m going to need one.
The past two days have been smooth sailing since we released the statement—no vague T-shirt messages, no dog posts from River. It almost convinced me we were through the worst of it. I really wanted it to be true.
But no. Instead, things are much, much worse.
How are things worse? The ten-minute video walks through Bailey’s entire career trajectory, using quotes taken out of context and a timeline that takes many liberties, and surmises that Bailey is a calculating social climber who used River to catapult her career.
It’s obvious to anyone who knows Bailey that none of it is true, but to everyone else, it seems reasonable. It’s a stretch, but a convincing one. And in this business, convincing is all that matters.
The piece has been up for six hours, and it’s pretty much everywhere.
“Do you think it was Luke?” Tessa asks. It’s actually the second time she’s asked this. The first time was during our first watch when I was seething and trying to wrap my brain around it all.
It was my first thought, of course. This would be a calculated (and smarmy) move from his camp, and I’m apt to believe he’s behind it, but also, what purpose would it serve?
I guess it could be their response to the Wooster video, but that wasn’t a shot at River—that was showing Bailey as a human being with a past. This feels like bringing a flamethrower to a Nerf gun fight.
What would be the point in escalating now, when we’ve just put out an amicable joint statement?
I feel like pointing fingers, though, and the only person I can point them at right now is Luke. And it’s going to be my middle one that does the talking.
I send him a text.
Me: Are you behind the video?
I don’t give him any context because we’ve both been paying attention to each side of this war. He’ll have seen it.
The three dots appear almost immediately.
Jerkwad: Had nothing to do with it.
Me: You better hope it wasn’t you
Jerkwad: I do love it when you threaten me. But I promise. Not us.
I slam my phone down on my desk, startling Tessa. I don’t like giving him the benefit of the doubt, but him being behind it also doesn’t add up.
Sitting back in my chair, I blow air from my lips. Feeling defeated.
“What should we do?” Tessa asks.
“No clue,” I say.
If Bailey makes a statement, it will look like damage control. A post on social media would look defensive. If we stay silent, that looks like guilt.
Translation: We are in a pickle.
My cell phone rings.
“It’s Bailey,” I say to Tessa.
She gives me wide eyes and then opens her pad to a new page, her pen ready.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Claire?” Her voice is wobbly and thick.
I quickly take her off speakerphone and hold the phone to my ear, wanting to give her privacy.
“I’m guessing you saw the video.”
“No. My manager told me about it,” she says, her words coming out higher pitched.
I know her manager’s job is to keep her informed, but that just seems cruel, even if it’s probably the right thing to do.
“What do I do?” she asks. “It’s not true.”
“I know that,” I tell her. Anyone that’s spent time with Bailey in real life would know that’s not something she’d be capable of.
The video is asking people to believe she maintained a flawless performance for the two years of their relationship in every setting.
That’s not acting. That’s sociopathy. And Bailey just doesn’t read that way to anyone who’s actually met her.
“I didn’t use River. I loved him.” She sniffles. “I still love him.”
The last part is almost under her breath, but I heard it. This isn’t just a hit piece on Bailey. It’s a lie. And it’s not just attacking her reputation but taking one of the truest things about her—her feelings for River—and making it look like a performance.
The heartbreak in her tone makes me want to fix it more than I’ve wanted anything in weeks, but I also do not know how to do that.
So, I do what PR people do and make promises I have no idea how I’ll keep.
“We will fix this, Bailey,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. And because I can’t help myself, I add: “I promise.”
So basically, I just vowed to fix something I do not know how to fix for an A-list star whose entire career is counting on me.
Well, crap.
We hang up, but not before I make her promise not to post anything or respond to anyone and tell her I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.
And now I get to work.
By eight o’clock that night, I’m exhausted. But, I think I have a plan that could work.
I spent most of the day doing the PR equivalent of spinning my wheels.
This looked like drafting statements and deleting them, hoping some combination of words could save us, but there were none.
I gave up on that and then tried calling some press contacts to gauge how bad the damage was, and it’s .
. . really bad. Three major entertainment outlets are planning to run their own pieces on it by the end of today, and none of them are interested in waiting for a response from Bailey’s team. AKA me. I know because I asked them.
Tessa reached out to You Oughta Know directly to see if there was any chance she’d take the video down and was unceremoniously blocked. Then we tried tracking down the original creator—if we could discredit the source, we could discredit the video—and hit a dead end.
The only thing I could come up with that might have some tiny semblance of a chance was to dig up some interviews or clips of Bailey and River from early in their relationship. I needed something genuinely warm and unguarded that didn’t look performative.
Tessa found a clip from a morning show appearance late in season one—before they’d fully gone public with their relationship—where River looks over at Bailey mid-interview and the way he watches her is completely earnest. He looks absolutely smitten.
We’ll have the same fan account that posted the Wooster video post it tomorrow morning when people are home and scrolling, with nothing else competing for their attention. And then we’ll have to pray that it goes viral.
Will it work? Odds are not in our favor. According to Brandwatch, sentiment has shifted decisively against Bailey. But we have to try something. Especially with FableCon next week. So many fans packed into one room. What if they stage a riot against my client?
No. We are not thinking about that right now. One disaster at a time.
Because I’m at a point where I can do nothing, and my mom texted earlier that there were leftovers in the fridge for me, I head over to my parents’ house.
“Anyone home?” I call out after walking inside. I can hear the television on in the living room, and the smell of garlic and onions still hangs in the air. My stomach rumbles.
“In here,” my dad yells.
I walk into the kitchen, throwing my purse down on the table, and head straight to the refrigerator, glancing over to see my mom, dad, and Gigi watching some sort of action movie with Tom Cruise running super fast in his signature arm-pumping style.
No sign of Ryan, although he’s more of an eat-and-run kind of guy.
He never hangs out all that long afterward.
“You made it,” my mom says over some suspenseful-sounding music.
“I made it,” I echo, glancing around the shelves packed with food until I spot a plate of spaghetti and meatballs—a Gigi classic—covered in plastic.
I sigh with relief. Nothing heals the soul like Gigi’s homemade marinara sauce. This is exactly what I needed.
“You just missed Ryan and Sienna,” my mom says from the living room.
“Darn it,” I say, not really meaning it. I love my brother, but watching him be lovey-dovey with his girlfriend kind of sucks and is not what I need right now.
The movie ends just as I sit down at the table, steam coming from my microwaved leftovers.
Gigi walks over and sits across from me, eyeing me the way she does when she already knows something is wrong and is deciding how much she feels like pushing.
“You look like you lost a fight,” she says before I can intervene, a bony finger pointed at me.
I reach up and touch my hair, which has fallen mostly out of the clip I put it in this morning.
“Thanks, Gigi,” I say flatly.
“Did the curse strike again?”
I stop mid-bite, spaghetti hanging from my fork. “No, that’s not even a possibility right now.”
I haven’t had time to be on dating sites or even worry about kiss number fifty. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve even thought of it in days. Weird.
She inhales deeply, sitting back in her chair, arms folded. “What’s got your panties in a tangle?”
“Just work,” I say, not wanting to get into it or tell her that the term is “panties in a wad” because I’ve told her before and she never gets it.
She lifts just one eyebrow—a talent I didn’t inherit, unfortunately. It’s her signature look, one that says I’m not going to stop pestering you until you talk.
I put my fork down. “It’s just a crisis at work.”
She pulls her chin in, giving herself two. “Crisis?”
“Not like a crisis crisis. It’s a work term.” Although this one feels like a real crisis. We haven’t even considered the fallout. If this gets legs, Bailey could lose brand deals and who knows what else. Maybe her contract for the show.
Nope. Not going there.
Gigi lifts both eyebrows this time, telling me to go on.
“A scathing video came out about a client, and I don’t think I can fix it.” I hold my hands up like There it is—are you happy now?
She looks disappointed. I think she was hoping for some really juicy gossip. Which this definitely is, but not to Gigi. I don’t think she’s even heard of Kingdom of Flame and Moonlight.
“Everything’s fixable if you’re willing to do what it takes,” she says.
It’s so like Gigi to say something like that. She’s never let me wallow, which was infuriating as a teenager.
“I don’t know what else to do,” I tell her.
“What does your boss say?”
“She’s out sick.” I haven’t even gotten an update on Simone to know how she’s faring or when she’s coming back.
“Well, who else is there?” Gigi asks.
I open my mouth and then shut it. There’s no one above me that can help, and the other associates don’t have enough experience. I’ve run through every option I can think of—press contacts, other firms, anyone with leverage—and come up empty every time.
My brain lands on Luke at that moment, and I almost laugh at myself for even thinking it. Because I would rather walk barefoot through shards of glass before ever asking him for help.
Gigi narrows her eyes. “There is someone.”
“There really is not,” I say, feeling annoyed that she can read me so well.
She stares at me.
“Even if I ask, there’s nothing he can do,” I say.
“Oh, we’re talking about a he, are we?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. It’s Luke. The idiot I used to work with.”
Now her eyes have taken on a whole new look. Wide like saucers. “The handsome one you used to talk about all the time?”
“I didn’t talk about him all the time,” I say, my voice pitching upward.
She waves my words away with her hand. “You did. I met him once, right? He had nice shoulders.”
“What?” I ask, scrunching my face.
“You can always tell a good man by his shoulders.” She sticks a pointer finger in the air. “A man with good shoulders carries things without complaining about it.”
I close my eyes, because what are we even talking about?
“Luke can’t help me,” I finally say.
“How do you know if you haven’t asked?”
I shake my head. “I mean, short of him getting River to—” I stop talking, my mind suddenly racing with possibilities.
Because I might know what to do. I could get River to say something. To defend Bailey.
If I can get Luke to have River deny the claims in the video, not only will it help my client, but it will also help Luke. River gets to look like the hero here, which is exactly what Luke would want. It’s a win-win.
“Gigi,” I say, smiling for probably the first time today. “You’re a genius.”
“Well, of course I am,” she says. Then she furrows her brow. “But how exactly am I right now?”
“I’ll explain later,” I say, grabbing the phone from my purse and pulling up Luke’s number.
It’s time to swallow my pride and ask Luke Wilder for help.