"What? He should know." Tess drops her bag. "The blog post hit last night. By morning, it spread to three forum groups and a Reddit thread. People have opinions. Strong ones."
"We noticed," I mutter.
Tess pulls up her laptop. "Here's what we're doing. Lacy gives a statement emphasizing the program's community benefits. You stay quiet. Low profile until this blows over."
"I have the review at nine," I say.
"Even better. Go, be professional, keep your head down." Tess types rapidly. "I'm drafting a press release focusing on yesterday's reading event. Kids. Books. Wholesome community engagement. We bury the relationship angle under positive PR."
"Bury it." The phrase sticks in my throat. "Like something shameful."
Tess pauses. Looks into my eyes. "Like something private. That they're trying to make into a circus."
She's not wrong. Doesn't make it hurt less.
Lacy stands beside me. "We're not hiding. But we're also not feeding trolls. It’s not the same."
I nod. Can't quite make myself believe it.
Tess works for the next hour. Drafting statements. Calling contacts at local papers. Building a counter-narrative brick by careful brick. I watch her transform a disaster into something manageable. It's impressive. Exhausting.
My phone rings. The cultural liaison office.
Reminder: Review at 9 AM. Please arrive promptly.
Professional. Neutral. Like a noose tightening.
I leave at eight-thirty.Lacy kisses me at the door, fierce and quick.
"You've got this," she whispers.
"Yeah." I don't feel it.
The liaison office sits in a civic building downtown, all glass and steel. I've been here twice before. Once for initial placement. Once for a welcome orientation where they served tiny sandwiches and everyone smiled too much.
Today the smiles are gone.
The receptionist waves me toward a conference room. Inside, three people wait. Darius, looking grim. A liaison officer I don't recognize. And Councilwoman Blair herself.
She's smaller than I expected. Fifties, silver hair cut sharp, suit immaculate. Eyes like flint.
"Mr. Venn." She gestures to a chair. "Please sit."
I fold myself into the seat, knees bumping the table edge. Everything feels too small. Too fragile.
Blair opens a folder. "Let's get straight to it. Your placement at Ellis Books has generated unexpected attention. Attention that reflects poorly on the program's intended purpose."
"Helping local businesses," I say carefully.
"Cultural exchange," Blair corrects. "Professional cultural exchange. Not personal entanglements that raise questions about program oversight."
Heat rises up my neck. "My personal life doesn't affect my work."
"It does when it becomes public spectacle." She slides a printout across the table. The blog post. Photos circled in red. "This undermines the program's credibility. Makes us look irresponsible."
Darius leans forward. "With respect, Councilwoman, Stone's personal relationships aren't program business. He's exceeded placement expectations. The bookstore's community engagement has tripled."
"Under questionable circumstances." Blair's voice stays level. Cold. "I've received calls from concerned citizens. Parents asking if the program properly vets participants. Business owners wondering if they'll face similar complications."
