“A news article broke in a national tabloid an hour ago. I know you’re locked in the studio and most likely haven’t seen it. We need you to come into the office.”
“What’s the news article about?”
“It’s your mother, Maia. She sold a story to the papers.”
Blood rushed in my ears. Lips suddenly numb, I only vaguely processed the words. “What kind of story?”
“About where you grew up. That she’s a recovering addict. And you ran away when you were fifteen, leaving her to fend for herself.”
Leaving her to fend for herself?
“You need to come in. We have to talk response strategy. Bruno knows. The shoot is over. Get dressed and get here.” She hung up.
Baird pressed a hand to my back. “Maia, what’s wrong?”
I stared at the phone as that fifteen-year-old girl I used to know screamed from the back of my mind in absolute fury and heartbreak.
“Maia?”
Suddenly his face was in mine, his hands clasping my cheeks. “Maia, talk to me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BAIRD
My stomach was sick with worry as I drove a silent Maia back to her place. After Hilary’s phone call, we’d googled the article in question and sure enough, there it was, front-page headline in the same national tabloid that published the photo of me partying a few months ago. Same fucking journo too. Craig Bennet. There was a picture of Maia from the campaign plastered on the front and then a picture of Maryanne Lewis, Maia’s mother, looking surprisingly well and not at all the haggard heroin addict Maia had described from her childhood.
The headline stated:
SOCIAL MEDIA SWEETHEART ABANDONED ME IN MY TIME OF NEED
The subhead:Maia MacLeod’s mum speaks out about her addiction and how her estranged daughter left her behind to fend for herself while she pursued fame and money.
The double spread article had more photos of Maia when she was a kid, more of Maryanne Lewis, and was just a bunch of bullshit that any moron could see through. Howdoes a kid abandon their heroin-addict parent? She stated that Maia had left their home when she was fifteen to go live with her dad and that Maryanne had felt abandoned by her. That she was clean now and working to help other people get sober. She said she was shocked to see Maia online and it had brought back a lot of painful memories.
I fucking despised the woman, and I’d never met her.
“Not only did she sell a lie, but she got sober,” Maia whispered. “She got sober and … she never reached out. Instead, she sold a twisted version of events to the public.”
“Baby …” I reached over to squeeze her hand, but it was limp in mine.
Fear crawled through me at how distant she was.
“Even if she’s clean now … she … she hasn’t changed. She still cares more about herself than she ever cared about me. I can’t blame the addiction anymore. It’s her. She’s just a terrible fucking person.”
I didn’t know what to say because I knew deep down there wasn’t anything I could say to make it better, and I hated that.
I felt powerless in the worst way.
I’d driven Maia to Pennington’s, and her bosses Hilary and Christina were kind enough about the situation. I’d wanted to wipe the smug smirk off that rat Becky’s face. The marketing team had decided the best response was no response. It seemed from the commentary online that most people weren’t buying the sob story, anyway. A lot of people were on Maia’s side. But there were also a loud few calling Maia fake. There were also a lot of arseholes using filthy language they’d never dare use in front of me as they suggested I dump Maia.
Becky took a wee bit too much satisfaction in relaying those comments.
“Enough,” I’d snapped at her. “We don’t need to know what people are saying.”
Her lips had pinched together in that sour way of hers. “Well, actually, we do need to know what the public response to this is and how damaging it is to our campaign and to the company.”
Maia had sat in shocked silence throughout the whole conversation, only murmuring agreements when asked to. “Maia isn’t her mum. Maia has nothing to do with her mum. Maia is a hardworking member of staff who has, quite frankly, given a lot to this company.”
