“All I’ve done since I arrived is listen to you talk,” I said. “This was supposed to be a fact-finding meeting, to get a feel for what I’m comfortable with, and what I think will play well withmybrand, but you know what? I could have lived with you skipping right past that if you’d really gone for gold on delivering what the Rushies are looking for. But you bombed that too. Because all of what you just described? Garbage.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” I said, leaning forward in my chair. “Let me explain how everything you outlined will backfire. A non-apology is worse than no apology because there’s no accountability. The song you selected is basically about Scarlet wishing her ex would die, and I would berelentlesslymocked if I set my apology to it. If I wear a tiara, I’ll piss off her gay fans, and lastly, I. Do. Not. Dance.”
The room was pin-drop quiet by the time I finished, with the McPherson guys staring at me gapemouthed.
“I really think…” Alan began, clearly flustered. “Harrison, I think you’re coming at this from the wrong angle. In this kind of situation, it’s best for you to lean into the advice of a group that understands how the game is played.”
“You think you understand the game, huh?” I asked as I stood up. “The problem isn’t with me, it’s withyou.”
I stormed toward the door.
“Hold on, where are you going? What are you talking about?” Alan asked, chasing after me.
I wrenched the door open and looked around the office. “Where is Gwen Ackland’s desk?”
A nervous woman pointed to a row of cubicles around the corner. I headed in that direction.
“Gwen?” I shouted. “Where are you?”
Her head popped up over the top of a cubicle, prairie dog-style. “Here?”
I stomped over to her with Alan jogging behind me. “I want her.”
“You want…Gwen?” Alan asked, like I’d just suggested hiring the person who sold soft pretzels on the street.
“You want me?” she echoed.
Yeah, I wanted her—in more ways than one, if I was honest with myself. Gwen looked incredible in that sleek black dress, her hair smoothed into one of those twists that looked Parisian and which made fingers itch to mess it up. And the curves. I had to fight to keep my eyes on her face because I could get caught up in those hips for hours.
Like before. As good as they looked, that was nothing compared to how they felt, bucking beneath me. I could imagine her velvet skin beneath my fingertips and how easy it was to make her moan with pleasure. And that sweet mouth, those fat lips I’d been lucky enough to watch devouring my?—
“Why her?” Alan demanded. “She’s not qualified for an account like yours.”
I cleared my throat and forced myself to stay present for the fight to come.
“Because Miss Ackland is well acquainted with the Rushie fandom, and she knows how they think. I can’t imagine a group of bros has their finger on the pulse of a largely female fan base.”
“I mean, maybe we could add Gwen to our team?” Alan offered hopefully.
“No,” I shook my head. “I want her as the lead, or this isn’t happening.”
Gwen gaped at me, stunned speechless. She didn’t ask for this kind of attention, but she’d already nailed the audition without even trying when she’d served up the facts in the elevator. In all of two minutes, she’d shown more understanding of the situation and the fan base than Alan had in his whole endless presentation. I knew in my gut aligning myself with Gwen would pull me through the nightmare.
“Now, Harrison, that absolutely can’t happen. Whatever Gwen’s…charms, she’s not qualified to lead an account as important as yours. But we’ll get her on our team and fill her in on the direction.”
“Thewrongdirection,” Gwen said under her breath but loudly enough for me to hear.
I finally managed to look away from Gwen and back at Alan. “You’re unwilling to consider a different campaign approach?”
His eyes went wide, and he sputtered for a few seconds before collecting himself. “We’re confident that the plan we outlined is the right one. Plus, we don’t have the luxury of time to create and put into place a new plan.” His expression darkened. “You’re sort of fucked, Harrison. You need to act fast.”
If he thought playing hardball was going to win me over, he was dead wrong. His job was to show me a path forward, not remind me of the obvious shitstorm I was facing, as if I’d let desperation make the decision for me.
“Gwen? How quickly do you think you could come up with something more appropriate for me?” I asked her, ignoring Alan and his crew.
“It’s already done.”
