I pass her phone back and reach for a potato chip.
“I’m not sure threatening going to the press is the…”
“Too late.” Laura smirks. “It’s already sent.” She drops her phone back on the table.
Jesus.
I don’t waste time arguing or responding. Instead, I get up from the chair and make my way back to set. I prepare myself tokill her character, while thinking that Brian will probably want to change places with me when he reads her text.
The poor guy. One short-lived romance, and now he’s set to be tied to her for the rest of his life.
Thank God this is my final scene with her, and I can leave her drama behind.
16.Christoper
Sunday
Every time I fly American, I swear to myself that it’s the last time. Yet somehow, I get lured back in. This time, it was the appeal of a direct flight to Albuquerque rather than enduring a layover in Phoenix or Denver. I was once again left disappointed, this time by the two-hour delay.
It was two hours I could have spent with Andrew, who’s no longer attempting to hide his disdain for me missing his birthday. Instead, I’m running round my hotel room like a headless chicken, trying to connect to the hotel’s Wi-Fi so I can jump on a Zoom call with the Brewed team. I shift uncomfortably in the chair, trying to ease discomfort that’s no doubt brought on by flying for three hours in a middle seat, and has nothing to do with the fact that the Brewed campaign is barely hanging on by a thread.
“Where are you?” Chloe leans into the camera, looking at the souped-up electric limeade shade of green on the wall that is reminiscent of the Charli XCXBratalbum cover.
“I’m in Albuquerque.” My tone is shorter than I’d like as I silently wish Hotel Andaluz was less descript.
“Albuquerque?” Caryn’s brows rise.
The lie’s already on the tip of my tongue, but I’m saved by the sight of one of Caryn’s children entering her room. Caryn mutes herself to shout at her son, giving me a moment to center myself.
Stay on topic.
Address their concerns.
Move forward with an action plan.
Simple.
I get it. The Brewed team wants reassurance that their brand won’t be pulled into any more scandals before we kick off the activation events next week. It’s a promise I can’t commit to, but I can at least try to assuage their concerns.
“Right. Let’s cut to it. I can see we’re all busy.” My gaze drifts to Caryn’s door when her son reenters. “Paul’s flown me out here to address your concerns.” A half-truth at best. “He recommended meeting in person, rather than remotely, due to a recent hacking attempt on his emails.” And that is a full-out lie, but one I’ve rehearsed so many times I believe it myself.
“We had one of those just a couple of weeks back, just before the elections.” The tail of a black cat comes into shot. Chloe lifts her arm to stroke it. “It was a nightmare. Couldn’t get access to our files or anything while the IT department tried to assess what the hackers had gained access to.”
Chloe smiles at her cat as it moves away from the screen, but I know Caryn doesn’t suffer fools as gladly, and her hollow glance makes my jaw tighten. Maybe my lie wasn’t so convincing.
I look at my image on the screen. I really do need to work on my poker face.
“You’re on mute.” My three most overused words of the decade notify Caryn that none of us can hear her.
“What did they say?” Caryn repeats.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” I sit upright and move closer to the camera. I know how to play this game well enough by now.
“What’s the good news?” Chloe jumps in, like an eagerstudent waving their hand with the answer to the teacher’s question.
Connie’s email, outlining the proposed details for the campaign activations, sits alongside the Zoom screen, and I skim the details once more to pull out the key information.
“Connie has secured interviews on bothGood Morning AmericaandThe Viewfor Wednesday. As I’m sure you can imagine, everyone and their mother has been trying to get an interview with Alexander after that video.”
