Chapter 2
Why the next morning he felt compelled to torture himself by ordering a stack of fresh tabloids to his office, Graham was frankly at a loss to explain.
It was a given that the coverage of the previous night’s fiasco would be bad.
Shuffling through the magazines and newspapers strewn out across his desk, he realized it was merely a question of just how bad.
Washed-Up Actress Coco Holliday Makes Annual Toy Drive a Wash-Out
Not-So-Jolly Holliday: Fallen Star Coco Holliday On Blast After Drunken Toy Drive Debacle
Dreaming of a Wine Christmas? Coco Holliday Sure Is
He dropped his forehead to his desk. “Why me?”
He’d tried getting a hold of Derek once the crisis had died down—texts, calls, even an email, for Christ’s sake. But Derek’s silence said it all. They were through.
“Eh, who needs him,” Graham muttered as he deleted his almost-lover’s number from his phone. He was a go-getter, a hustler—if Derek didn’t like that, then it was his loss. Graham had bigger things to focus on.
Namely, this shot at a promotion. It wasn’t exactly ideal timing with the holiday and all, but that was neither here nor there. Graham never had been much of one for making the Yuletide, well, gay. If he could just end the year strong, he knew it would make him a frontrunner for the job.
So long as Coco didn’t louse it all up for him, that is.
A former child star, Coco Holliday as of late had become known less so for her performances on the screen and more so for her performances at the nightclub. And, no, it was not because she’d launched an act in a floor show.
It had become the thorn in Graham’s now very tenderized side.
Being a celebrity publicist of course had its perks. Who wouldn’t love a job rubbing elbows with the rich and famous? But behind the glitz and glamour, it could be a real hell of a gig.
Mostly because of clients like Coco.
He shouldn’t complain, he knew. He’d come a long way thanks to this job. Luxury condo, exclusive parties—who would have thought a shy, small-town gay boy would grow up to lead the life he led?
Now if he could just land this promotion, he’d have everything he ever wanted. He could practically hear opportunity knocking.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
He shook himself from his daze at the sound of someone at the door to his office. His daydreams would have to wait. For now, it was back to reality. “Come in.”
Steeling himself, he winced as his boss blustered into his office with the force of a Category Five hurricane.
“Mr. Burns. Pleasure to see you.”
The bulldog of a man made a warpath up to his desk. “Don’t you worry, we’ll soon fix that.”
Graham swallowed a gulp.
“Mr. Bartlett,” Burns said as he loomed over Graham like a wrecking ball poised for destruction, “do you know why our clients choose to hire Brooks & Burns?”
Graham felt as if his tie had suddenly tightened around his neck. “Because,” he replied, “Brooks & Burns is the best PR firm in LA.” He added hastily, “A reputation that is well-deserved, sir, if I may be so bold.”
A beat of silence followed as Burns sucked in a deep, long breath.
“Then what,” he exploded, “would you say our clients will think about us when they take a look at this?” He slapped another tabloid down on top of Graham’s collection.
The cover story hit like a gut punch: From A-List to the Naughty List: Hollywood Disgrace Coco Holliday Stoops to New Low and Ruins Christmas for Underprivileged Youth Across LA.
He might as well just hand in his resignation now.
“The studio is not going to be happy about this, Graham. Holiday with the Wholesomes comes out Christmas Day. You know the chance they took casting Coco in the lead.” The portly man began pacing across the floor.
“Cripes, the original black-and-white is practically the most beloved holiday film of all time! Everyone has their eyes on this remake, Graham. The studio cannot afford this kind of bad publicity leading up to the premiere.”
Graham felt himself bristle as he realized his boss’s implication. “And Coco showing up to a charity toy drive three sheets to the wind is my fault because…?”
“Because you’re her publicist, Graham! It’s your job to protect Coco’s image!”
“Of course, but not to babysit her! Do you have any idea what it’s like trying to keep America’s Boozehound Blondie in line?”
Just then, there came a knock at the door. A mousy, bespectacled figure poked his head through the crack. “Graham, a visitor for you, sir.”
He held up a finger. “One moment, Orlando.”
The assistant stepped back out.
Softening, Burns heaved a tired sigh. “Yes, Coco’s a handful, Graham.
You know that, I know that—heck, even the studio probably knows that.
But do you know what else? The studio doesn’t care.
Frankly, they did Coco a favor by giving her a shot at a comeback, and they’re banking on her—and us, mind you—to deliver. ”
Graham nodded in understanding. As much as he hated to admit it, Burns was right, and he knew it. “So, what do you want me to do?”
Burns settled into the chair facing Graham’s desk. “Coco’s movie comes out Christmas Day. All you need to do is make sure she doesn’t stir up any more negative publicity before then.”
The directive drew a scoff from Graham. “Yeah, right. Coco attracts bad PR like Christmas cookies attract cavities.”
Burns gave an unsympathetic shrug. “Then find a way to keep her out of the limelight.”
Graham laughed like his boss had just told him a joke. “And how exactly do you propose I do that? This is LA, Mr. Burns—one of the biggest media markets in the world. There’s no hiding Coco here.”
Burns rubbed his chin, considering. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. You’ll have to take her someplace else.”
Graham sputtered at the suggestion. “Take her somewhere? Excuse me?”
“Somewhere off the grid. Somewhere the media will never think to look.” He snapped his fingers like he’d just had a stroke of genius. “Say, Graham. Aren’t you from a place like that?”
Before Graham had a chance to rebut, though, they were cut off by the reappearance of an increasingly urgent Orlando. “Your visitor is getting awfully antsy, Graham.”
Graham waved him off, distracted. “Just keep them busy, Orlando. This will only take a minute.” He turned back to his boss as his assistant saw himself out.
“Look, Mr. Burns. I know that, in theory, bringing Coco home with me might sound like a good idea. But let me assure you that in practice, it’s a very, very bad one.
” He quickly tacked on, “And of course I mean that with the utmost possible respect, sir.”
Mr. Burns, however, did not appear convinced. “Nonsense, it’s a fantastic idea. What’s that name of your hometown again? Marzipan Grove?”
“Mistletoe Grove,” Graham answered with a sigh.
“That’s the one!” Burns leapt, virtually manic, from his chair. “If that little town of yours is anything like you’ve described, Graham, it’s the perfect place for you and Coco to lie low.”
The very thought of being holed up in that tiny mountain town with his most exuberant client made Graham’s stomach twist into a knot. “I don’t know, boss. Isn’t that a bit…extreme?”
Mr. Burns installed himself back into his chair. “Why, yes, Mr. Bartlett. It is a bit extreme.”
Graham leaned back and sighed relief. Finally, his boss was coming to his senses.
“This, however, is an extreme situation.”
So much for that.
Mr. Burns put on a conspiratorial air. “Look, after this little stunt Miss Holliday pulled, the studio can’t afford to take any more heat.
Another bad headline, and Holiday with the Wholesomes is through—and more likely than not, us along with it.
Now, all you have to do is fly our little party girl out to your quaint, little winter wonderland and soak up some holiday charm for a few days.
Keep her off the grid, then come Christmas Day, fly her back to LA for the premiere. It’ll practically be like a vacation.”
“I don’t know,” Graham replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been back home for Christmas in years.”
Burns flashed him a roguish smile. “Well, in that case, I’d say you’re overdue for a reunion then, don’t you think?”
The next thing Graham knew, he found himself gawking at a panting Orlando bracing himself, frantic, in the doorway. “Mr. Bartlett, I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold your visitor off.”
Graham let out a frustrated groan. “Come on, Orlando. How hard can they possibly be to handle?”
The question proved to be prophetic. Almost as if on cue, in came a stumbling character he knew all too well.
“Coco?”
She let out a drunken hiccup.
“I tried to warn you, man,” Orlando said.
Graham rushed to the teetering starlet before she was liable to collapse right there in his office.
Burns cracked a devious smirk. “Tell me, Graham, are you still interested in that open executive position?”
“Vice president of client accounts?” he replied, working to stabilize the incapacitated star.
Burns nodded coolly. “This is a job that needs someone who can go the extra mile. Here’s your chance to prove to me you’ve got what it takes.”
Without ceremony, Coco tossed her cookies onto the office floor.
“Not on my good shoes, Coco!”
Burns straightened his tie, grimacing. “Keep Coco under wraps for the holiday, and come New Year’s, this firm could be Brooks, Burns & Bartlett.”
Instantly, Graham shot to attention. “You mean it, boss?”
“I’m not making any promises, Graham. You know as well as I do there are plenty of qualified candidates. What I’m telling you is that if you want a chance at being considered, I need to see you’ve got what it takes.”
Graham worked to stand Coco upright. Burns certainly drove a hard bargain, but if it meant landing this promotion, a few days back home with his client was not a bad price to pay. He gave her an impatient shake. “All right, Coco, look alive. You and I have a plane to catch.”