“No,” I say.
Melanie clearly isn’t ready to give up when she changes the screen to the next slide.
I have a Master’s in Public Relations from NYU.
I meet her dead in the eyes, wildly unimpressed. I’ve known this information and don’t need the reminder. My unwillingness to participate in her little game doesn’t deter her, though. She presses the arrow on her computer, beaming like she’s already won.
Hiring a PR firm will cost you money that would be better used toward developing your technologies. I’m already working here, so I’d be doing the job at no extra cost.
"What do you get out of this?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed.
Melanie smiles, clicking the next button.
It’ll pad up my resume so I can find a job at a real PR firm. I’ll no longer be doing random tasks around the company, and you’ll never have to deal with me ever again.
I sit up straighter as the information sinks in. The latter sounds like a dream, but the first part isn’t the worst of ideas. She needs the experience, and I need this ordeal fixed quickly.
Taking my silence as confirmation, Melanie abandons her presentation and leans back in her chair, hands resting on the arms as she crosses one leg over the other.
“Long story short, everyone hates you because chasing younger girls is a big fat no. I don’t understand why they’re running with that story when that girl doesn’t look a day under twenty-five, but that’s the lovely thing about social media—none of it has to make sense. People jump to conclusions and on bandwagons without a second thought.”
I roll my eyes in annoyance.
Clearly.
“Either way, I’ve already tried paying off the news outlets, but they’ve refused payment on all accounts.”
My finger taps rhythmically against my wooden desk.
It would be pricey, but it isn’t the worst idea. Definitely a good start for damage control.
“Did you give them a competitive price?” I ask.
“Of course. I offered them hundreds of thousands of dollars, but they wouldn’t budge.”
My eyes bulge out of their sockets at her confession.
Archer Aviation has the funds and resources, but they aren’t allocated to getting the CEO out of uncalled-for controversies. Though I guess we wouldn’t have much of a company—or resources—if this trend in my reputation continues.
Fuck. Think, Nate. What else could we possibly do?
“Announce to the world your engagement to the woman in the photo.”
A heavy cough erupts as I choke on my own saliva, a sound that turns increasingly more violent as I lose my ability to breathe. You’d think the woman would come my way—pat my back, give me the Heimlich,something—but she sits there, smile unwavering until it comes to a stop.
“Have you gone mad?”
“It’ll change the narrative from luring in younger girls to one of true love. And everyone loves a love story.”
Oh, she’s gone mad.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Not today. Not tomorrow. And definitely not when pigs fly.
I could probably make pigs fly, though.
“It’s the only way. Plus, it has a one-hundred-percent success rate.”
