CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ELLIOT
Back at the house with Taylor and Marko, we’ve got the curtains drawn as the paparazzi begins to return, and we’re set up at the kitchen table with laptops, phones, and tablets. As the illustrations go viral, my potential for alternative employment is evaporating before my eyes. But Hank’s encouraging words stay in mind, and I hold tight to my resolve.
“Okay,” I say as I finish typing. “I’ve got the letter to all my existing clients crafted. It will hopefully calm their jitters.”
Marko frowns at his laptop, which is covered with wig stickers. “I’m really struggling to make sense of your work email. What do all these tabs mean?”
“It’s an intuitive system,” I offer. “Thanks again for helping.”
“We’re back to level-up summer,” Taylor says confidently. “And you’ve already started on design ideas for my dance party. Now it’s our turn to support you.”
I nod. “I know. But I didn’t think I’d have to ask you to help me answer emails.”
Only my public-facing work is exposed, but the private clients are spooked, and I’ve already lost a few gigs. I hoped my friends would help me launch a new project this summer, notrun damage control for my established career. It’s not like I have money to burn, either. I’m still scraping rock bottom.
On top of it all, there’s a crisis at the firm, and Dad knows about me and Hank. It’s a lot to process, especially with Hank’s job security on the line.
No matter how much things seem like they’re falling apart, this metaphorical shipwreck doesn’t compare to what we’ve been through since we met. I need to control the current scandal for my own sake, and I’m motivated to limit the impacts on Hank, too. There’s a way through this, and I know we can make it together.
I send the letter off to my clients. “What’s everyone in the media saying?” I ask.
“The mainstream news is pretty consumed with the scandal at your dad’s firm,” Taylor answers. “On social media, the takes about your work are all over the place.”
Marko frowns at a tablet. “Gay bondage dragons inspire some ignorant opinions, but I guess you already knew that.”
“There are plenty of fans speaking up, too,” Taylor adds. “People really like the wasp women.”
“I’ve always thought people would,” I say. “But I never wanted it to go down like this. I hate that my clients are having their sexuality held up to public scrutiny. And now what if my art career grows in a different direction? Will anyone work with me after this?”
Quickly shaking my head, I push those concerns away for now and set my attention on what I can do.
“I need to make a statement,” I say. “Stand up for my work. The truth is already out, so now I need to deal with it.”
It’s a lesson I learned on the island. You’ve got to keep going and work on what you can, no matter what setbacks and challenges appear in front of you.
“Now’s the time to do it,” Taylor says. “You’ve got a big audience looking your way.”
I turn to Marko. “You said there are interview requests in my work email?”
“A few influencers with large platforms have reached out,” he confirms as he clicks around. “At least one art magazine, too.”
“Good. If people are going to search my name and learn about faerie BDSM, then I’m going to make sure they receive a proper education.”
The three of us stay busy for the rest of the day, sorting through the incoming information and putting together a strategy.
I know Hank is buried at his job, too. It’s got to be chaotic in the office.
As the afternoon stretches on, I step away from the table when I get a chance and work on dinner. I’m no great cook, but I’ve got a fantastic peanut butter noodle salad recipe that I know by heart, and I cut the scallions and mini broccoli with extra care.
When it’s nearly five, I send Hank a text.
Elliot: would you appreciate a home-cooked dinner? after your day, i thought you might want to crash
Hank: Please! I barely ate any lunch.
Hank: I caught myself thinking about clams during a meeting.
