“It’s just the truth.”
Tiffany blushed again. She was good at this kind of thing. “They tell me this is going to be the cover. Isn’t that exciting?”
“It is,“ I replied.
“Most of the time when I’m in a magazine, it’s about some scandal. This will be a refreshing change of pace.”
She was lying to herself if she thought the exposé wouldn’t be scandalous. She was purposely courting controversy.
“I’d love to hear more about this line of perfume,” I said.
“Honestly, it happened so fast. I got a phone call yesterday. The offer sounded good. I had my attorney look it over, and we did the deal. I’m going to work with the fragrance department next week to start developing it.”
"Marketing a product that doesn't even exist yet," Jack said.
Tiffany shrugged. "That's how these things work sometimes.”
It was a quick cash grab based on her sudden popularity. Tiffany had become the subject of multiple memes swirling around the Internet. That kind of attention can be priceless. It doesn't last forever, but more than a few have been able to spin that into a long-term career. Sometimes, all it takes is getting attention once. The real trick is maintaining it.
The assistant downloaded the images from the flash card. Once they were on the computer, the art director and the photographer huddled around the screen, evaluating the work. We joined them as they flipped through the images.
Tiffany looked stunning. There was no questioning it. Every frame was indeed perfection.
The art director’s concern faded. He patted the photographer on the shoulder.
"There's a reason you hired me.”
With agreement, the art director said, "Indeed."
I got that sneaking suspicion that Tiffany's perfume might actually do well—even though nobody had smelled it yet.
Flynn’s phone buzzed his pocket. He pulled out the device, swiped the screen, and took the call. “Mickey! How the hell are you?”
Mickey’s voice filtered through the phone.
Flynn listened intently. “Wait. Slow down? What’s wrong?”
30
Flynn handed me the phone, and I talked to Mickey. His distraught voice filtered through the speaker. “They’ve got her. Said if I don’t come up with the money, they’re going to kill her.”
"Who's got her?" I asked.
"I don't know.”
“When did they contact you?"
"Just now.”
"By phone?”
"Yes.”
"We’re talking about Kendra, right?”
"Yes.”
"Did you get proof of life?"
