“Hold on, I’m not sure that—” Harrison began.
“There’s more,” I said, cutting him off with a glare. “The next night, you’ll appear onAfter Darkfor a follow-up interview, where you’ll talk about what went wrong on the fateful day, how sorry you are that she missed the show, and how excited you are to support her charity.”
“But why should I apologize for a mistake that wastheirfault?” Harrison asked, sounding like he was warming up for a full-on tirade.
“Harrison,” Denise chided softly. “That attitude isn’t going to help us put this behind us. Reconciliation isn’t about figuring out who’s to blame. And besides, you need to step up and take some responsibility for what you said after the incident.”
“I hate going on TV,” he grumbled.
“I know that,” Denise said. “We all do. But you also hate losing shareholder value, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now.”
I kept quiet as the two longtime colleagues duked it out.
“Can’t someone else do it?” Harrison asked angrily. “Why me?”
“Because youareAshford Jets,” Denise said.
“And you’re the focus of the Rushies’ anger,” I added, smug about the fact. “You’re who they believe is the bad guy, so now your job is to flip the narrative in a way that speaks to them. A grand gesture like this is exactly what they love. If youcan pretend to be adequately apologetic, they’ll move on in a heartbeat. Hell, they might even stan you.”
“Stan?” Harrison asked with a sneer.
“It’s slang,” Brianna explained from the far end of the table. “It’s like being a fan, but deeper. It’s from an old Eminem song where?—”
“Listen, I don’t want fans, or stans, oranyof this. I want this bullshit to end. Yesterday.”
“Which is why you hired me,” I reminded him. “My understanding was that you believed in my perspective enough to bring me on board, but if that’s not the case, I can pack up and go.”
It was a bluff—there was no way I could afford to walk out of my new job. I held my breath and his gaze as his jaw flexed.
The room went silent as he considered his next move, and everyone glanced between us like they were watching a tennis match.
“It’s a solid plan,” Denise finally said.
“I agree,” another voice sounded off from the far end of the table.
“Low cost, high reward,” Brianna added.
“Plus, her charity is right up your alley,” Denise said. “It makes sense since you’re?—”
“Do you even have a solid commitment from theAfter Darkteam?” Harison demanded of me. “What’s your Plan B if they say no?”
“The only reason I’d need a Plan B is if you refuse my original plan. TheAfter Darkfolks owe me a favor. Plus, they’ll eat this up. They live for this kind of multi-show arc and scooping every other news outlet with a hot story.”
Everyone turned to watch how Harrison would react. If a fully grown, adult-ass man could pout like a toddler, Harrison Ashford was doing it now, frowning so hard his handsome face was contorted.
But he was outnumbered, and he knew it.
“What sort of bullshit would I need to say?” he groused. “Because there’s no way I’m getting all flowery and talking about my feelings in front of the world. You said we needed to be sincere. I’d sound fake as hell if I tried to pull that off.”
“We can craft the message together if you want, but I’ll get final approval,” I said. “And yes, you’ll have to at least pretend to have real human emotions while you’re on the show.”
A few people snickered quietly.
I switched to the next slide, which contained a brief script.
“I like it,” Denise said. “A lot.”
I glanced at her, and she shot me a supportive smile. Harrison was a bosshole, sure, but at least my crew seemed to have my back. It was an unexpected bonus after dealing with Alan’s bro-leagues for way too long.
