Chapter 9 Gwen #2
The general public had no idea how the Hollywood publicity machine worked. Very little of what happened on late-night TV was actually spontaneous, but it all had to look completely natural and unrehearsed.
When it came time for the big moment and Scarlet looked at the camera with a shocked expression as the roses were presented, few people would understand that the whole thing was choreographed in advance.
Ryan teased Scarlet’s performance as they broke for a commercial, and I glanced over at Harrison.
“Are you okay?”
He scowled at me. “What makes you think I’m not?”
“Well, damn, I was just checking in. Never mind.”
He sighed. “Sorry, I’m clearly a little tense, as you might imagine.”
I wondered if one of reasons for that was because we were about to share a bed again. It turned out that the two couches in the common area were long on style and short on comfort, with a bar in the middle of them beneath the cushions and arm rests that felt like they were made of sheet metal.
“It’s on!” I cheered as I pointed at the TV. “Oh my gosh, she looks so good!”
I bit my tongue, because I wanted to go on and on about the lore of her outfit and what each ruffle and sparkle on her red dress signified, but I was on Team Ashford tonight.
Everything about Scarlet’s new song, “Downshift,” was perfect. No surprise there. I held my breath as the applause died down after she finished.
“This is it,” Harrison said quietly. “Here we go.”
I glanced over at him. He was sitting at the edge of the couch, his hands clasped tightly.
We were both nervous.
Ryan walked out to thank Scarlet and lead her over to the chairs for the interview segment. Once they settled in, they made small talk about her tour that felt like it wouldn’t end.
“Come on, get on with it,” Harrison muttered.
“So Scarlet,” Ryan said with a devilish grin and cocked eyebrow. “How are you getting from concert to concert? Taking any…jets?”
The audience groaned.
“Shit,” I said softly, because Ryan wasn’t supposed to tee up the conversation with a joke at Harrison’s expense.
Scarlet grinned good naturedly. “Very funny. Let’s just say I won’t be missing any gigs from now on and leave it at that. Okay?”
Ryan nodded. “Well, I have a message for you that might change your perspective. Can we get the…” he turned to look over his shoulder as a PA ran out with the gigantic bouquet of roses wrapped in sparkly paper.
“Oh my gosh…” Scarlet said, sounding appropriately shocked. “What’s all of this?”
“Consider me a go-between tonight,” Ryan said as he handed the flowers over to her. “These are from Harrison Ashford from Ashford Jets. He wants to express how sorry he is for, uh, shall we say, recent events.”
“Aw,” Scarlet said, her smile dimming slightly. She looked around the audience. “Anyone out there want some pretty roses?”
A cheer went up.
“Wait, what?” Harrison asked the TV, sitting up straighter.
“No, no, no,” I chanted softly.
“Hold on,” Ryan laughed. “These are for you, Scarlet.”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head like he’d just offered her a bouquet of dead pigeons.
What was supposed to happen was Scarlet accepting the roses, then the check, then some cute banter about a surprise coming the next night—Harrison’s appearance—and then wrapping up the segment with positive vibes.
Harrison and I stared at the TV with our mouths hanging open, watching the slow-motion trainwreck.
“Flowers are a nice gesture,” Scarlet explained. “But that’s all they are. And they’re easy. Without real feeling behind them, the gesture is shallow and meaningless.”
Harrison turned to glower at me.
“Ryan’s team swore Scarlet was okay with the plan! She’s going rogue,” I sputtered, pointing at the screen helplessly.
“I love yellow roses,” Scarlet continued. “We all do, right?”
The crowd roared.
“But I love accountability even more. I can get past the messed-up flight issues. It happens,” Scarlet said. “But Harrison Ashford came for my fans, and a pretty bouquet won’t fix that. Money can’t buy my forgiveness.”
I knew Ryan was probably shitting himself over the unscripted change, but he probably also understood that her refused apology was going to be all over the news.
“Well, Scarlet, I hope you can tune in tomorrow night, because the man of the hour will be here to plead his case,” Ryan said.
A ripple went through the audience, and a few people booed. Harrison shifted.
“No, no, it’s a good thing that he’s coming on,” Ryan added quickly. “I bet he has more to say on the subject, so I hope all of you will tune in. Especially you, Scarlet.”
“I guess I’ll have to watch and see what he has to say for himself.” Scarlet smiled prettily and the crowd ate it up.
“Tomorrow night, folks,” Ryan pointed the card in his hand at the screen. “The throwdown continues! Scarlet, thanks for being here, and good luck on your tour!”
They embraced as the house band played them out to a commercial. I switched the TV off the second the pharma ad came on.
“Um…” I began, to fill the painful silence. “So that happened.”
My stomach was turning inside out over this worst-case scenario. A good PR strategist considered every outcome, but this one had been so left field that I hadn’t really thought of it as a possibility. Now I was kicking myself for not having a disaster plan in place.
I braced for the tirade that was sure to come. But I couldn’t blame Harrison for whatever was about to explode in the suite, because what just went down was a PR nightmare. Like, I could almost hear the McPherson guys laughing at me from across the country.
Harrison remained quiet, but I could see his jaw clenching.
“Are you okay?” I asked cautiously.
“Been better.”
It was more a measured response than I’d expected, but the fury was right there, just below the surface. I needed to do damage control.
“It’s going to be okay,” I began, hoping that by the end of my rah-rah speech I’d believe it myself.
“Yeah, it wasn’t what we wanted to happen, but here we are.
You still have a fantastic opportunity to plead your case tomorrow night.
And hey, the media is definitely going to make this story a priority, so you’ll have even more eyes on you as you show the world who you really are.
It’s not ideal, but you can still turn it around. We can. I’ll be right there with you.”
He fell back against the couch, rubbing his eyes. “What I don’t understand is why she would do it. Does she have a grudge that we don’t know about? Because it doesn’t make sense!”
I didn’t want to add fuel to his fire, but honestly, Harrison was right. I couldn’t make sense of why she’d veer off script when we’d all agreed to it.
“I’m not sure why,” I replied. “And that’s what worries me. I need to do some digging, because if this is an open wound, no amount of groveling will stop the blood loss.”
“Thanks for equating my professional life with gore. Feels about right.” Harrison sighed. “Let’s get to work. What do I need to do first?”
I shook my head. It was my job to make this right.
I reached for my phone, which was lighting up like the Fourth of July. “You preserve your peace. This is on me for now. Let’s just say I won’t be going to bed for a while. I have to connect with the After Dark team, her people, and our crew. We need to tweak your message, as well.”
“Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”
“Get your beauty rest. You’re the one who’s going to get cross examined in HD tomorrow.”
“Gwen, no, I can—”
“I’m serious, I can handle everything. Go to bed. I’ve got this. One of us should get some rest, and it isn’t going to be me. On the bright side, looks like we don’t have to worry about sharing the bed after all.”
Harrison finally unfolded from the couch and stood up. He watched me for a moment, and I could’ve sworn a hint of regret flickered across his face.