“I’m not trying to cover anything up, Karen. I was attacked, and Micah stepped in to get the guy off me. Now, please, let me get to work.”
Not wanting to give Karen any more ammunition, I break into a jog. I feel like I can’t get home fast enough, and when I drop my keys at the door, I start to panic.
The fight has already been leaked. There’s no taking that back, no ‘covering it up,’ as Karen put it. It’s out there in the wild. The only thing I can do is give PR my take on what happened and pray they can spin it into something less damaging to Micah.
Once inside, I make a beeline for my office and fire up my laptop. Janie, our head of public relations, should still be up, and she’s got a more level head than I do. She can keep me calm while I explain, then help me work through a solution. With any luck, we’ll have an answer to this debacle in a matter of minutes.
Janie picks up on the third ring, and from the way she answers, I get the feeling she’s seen the videos.
“Incite any violence recently, Iris?”
“Hey! I didn’t start it! That photog was completely out of line. He grabbed me.”
Janie sighs. “Yeah, I saw. Problem is, if we don’t get on top of thisnow, no amount of ‘he started it’ is going to help your actor friend.”
“Boyfriend. And he’s not even really an actor; Sloan Maverick quit the campaign, and he was the best replacement.”
“Even better,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So rather than an overworked actor who maybe was just tired of being harassed, we have a nobody who got in over his head and lost his fucking mind.”
“Micah’s not a nobody!”
“And that’s exactly the kind of reaction youdon’twant to have.” On the other end of the line, computer keys tap at a furious pace. “Now, if you get someone who insults Micah or claims he’s dangerous, your job is not to get defensive. Your job is to tell how sweet, kind, and caring he is. Play up his strengths rather than downplaying his weaknesses.”
“You say that like he’s not sweet, kind, and caring.”
“I have no doubt that he is, but we have to think like the media. They’re going to vilify him unless we get the right narrative in motion.”
“Okay … So, what’s the right narrative?”
Janie launches into an explanation of my part in the next few days, which apparently are critical. She then asks for Micah’s number, so she can call him tomorrow and go over some things with him. As for me, the supposed victim in all this according to her “narrative,” I have to do a little acting of my own. Janie already has a press conference set up for the morning, and I’m due to go live and describe my harrowing experience being accosted by a paparazzo while holding a small child. I’m no actress, but Janie says that it’ll add credence to my words if I can manage some sniffles and tears.
We get the details as hammered as they’re going to get, and I hang up feeling slightly less panicked. Since my appearance is going to be during the morning pre-work news, I should really stay home and get some decent rest, but I decide I’ll be fine if I stay at Micah’s tonight. Besides, this way I can go over everything with him, debrief him before Janie calls.
After a quick change of clothes and a little packing, I go back next door to check on Micah and Hailey. The scene when I let myself in is like something out of a Hallmark movie. Micah still has the book in his hand, but both he and Hailey are out cold, sleeping cuddled against each other in the beanbag chair like he never body slammed a stranger right in front of her. Micah’s other arm is wrapped around Hailey in a protective pose. I pull out my phone and snap a quick picture of the two of them. If we’re going for a “good father” story, what better way to show it than with a peaceful image to counter the violent photos and videos spreading online?
Chapter 28
Micah
I wake up to Iris pulling the picture book out of my hand. I guess Hailey and I fell asleep mid-story because she’s still resting against me. Iris takes Hailey from me with a sweet smile and carries her upstairs.
While Iris puts her to bed for me, I get up and fix myself a sandwich. Since I never finished dinner, I’m starving.
Iris comes back downstairs and finds me in the kitchen. She picks up a knife and some bread and starts making a sandwich of her own. We eat in silence for several minutes before I work up the nerve to ask the question that’s plaguing me.
“How bad did I screw things up?”
She details her conversation with her PR friend, Janie, and despite her confidence, it does nothing to settle my unease.
“What do you meanyouhave to do the press conference? You didn’t do anything wrong. It should be me up there. I should be defending myself.”
Iris pats my arm. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll seem more genuine coming from me. I can give my side of things without sounding like I’m trying to downplay what happened for my own sake. With any luck, you won’t have to get back in front of a camera again.”
“I wish I’d never gotten in front of one to begin with.”
When I look back at Iris, her frown tells me I said something wrong. “What?”
“I’m sorry I talked you into doing the commercial. This is all my fault.”
