Cassie:Then get access. That’s what I pay you for.
This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to throw my phone while texting Cassie. I told her my capabilities up front, before she signed the contract, and yet she persists in asking me to do things I simply cannot.
More than once, I’ve wanted to end our working relationship, but I can’t afford to have bad blood with an ex-client when I’m still trying to make a name for myself.
Because one day, I will only take on A-list clients.
Samantha:Being realistic, I don’t foresee snagging a sit-down with Clint Bastwick. It’s possible that I could get you involved in a few charities with some big names, and that could lead to some promising connections.
Cassie:I’m really disappointed with the visibility you’re getting me. When you told me what you could do for me, I thought you were being modest. Why do I even care to have a publicist if you can’t get me to the next level?
Samantha:I have gotten you interviews with several magazines and online websites, secured one-of-a-kind dresses for you to wear to several functions, as well as arranging several auditions. If you are dissatisfied with my work, I will let you out of your contract early, though I would be sad to see you go.
I know she’s furious, because while several other PR companies would happily represent her, none above mid-level would take her on.
Cassie:I’ll stay for now, but please be aware that word-of-mouth travels far in this industry.
Right back at ya!
I consider sending another text to Toxic, but I fear I’m wading into stalker territory.
The egg doesn’t chase the sperm;I remind myself, though this time, the phrase has a lot more meaning to me.
The front door opens, and Dorrine comes rushing into my wing without knocking, as she always does.
“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d be here,” she says when she sees me.
“That’s funny, because I never hope to see you.”
Ignoring the jab, she says, “Are you aware of the hotdog fiasco Bianca’s father got himself involved in?”
“Selfie Hotdog?” I say with a chuckle. “I was actually going to have one of my clients go there when they were in town, but…well, I’m sure that’s why you’re coming to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with that man?”
“I’m sure your gene pool is weeping.”
“I know you do PR things, and I was wondering how hard it would be to get it scrubbed from his record.”
“Takes a little work, but it’s doable. You’d start by looking at the top results for his name on Google, Bing, and all major search engines and finding out what you want removed. You reach out to all the low-level content creators and ask them to take it down, threatening libel. Most will obey because they don’t have the means to defend themselves. Then you look at the mid to high-level creators and see if you can get it taken down by scratching their backs. Most will if you offer them something that will draw viewers to their page, especially since the hotdog thing happened over a year ago and the story is dead in the water at this point. Then, you flood the internet with good content attached to his name. Not that you’ll find much with him. Finally, you have a team of people search his name andonlyclick on the links that you want to pop up.”
“How much would I have to pay for you to take this on?” she asks.
“I’ve already started, but I would accept your resignation from the Weston name.”
She ignores my jab again, saying, “You’ve already started?”
“I knew it would be important to the family, so I started working on it last month. I’ve already had five articles takendown, but twelve more have agreed to remove theirs over the next few weeks.”
She blinks at me, her head tilting every so slightly to the side.
“I’m a team player, Dorrine.”
“I and your brother certainly appreciate that.”
“Now, is there anything else you need from me? I do so love it when you intrude on my life.”
Her lithe body shifts like a snake. “A word of advice for you.”
