“She’ll still try, whether you’re here or not.” At least Wendy had Destinee pegged.
“I can handle it.”
Jessica recalled Wendy’s toned arms and sculpted calves that were left uncovered whenever she opted for a pencil skirt over her usual flowy pants and then she remembered the way the woman had been able to lift her onto her feet from where she’d crouched over Jameson.
Wendy definitely had the muscle necessary to wrestle Destinee to the ground. Hopefully she had the street smarts too, because Jessica knew from having witnessed it that Destinee wasn’t above a cheap shot if that’s what it took to win.
“Maria said Eugene Thornton’s sources were solid. Is that true?”
The panic in Wendy’s voice was incredibly disconcerting. “I thought you hadn’t talked to anyone.”
“I haven’t. She just texted me. I haven’t replied.”
“Phew. Okay. Good. Don’t. And yes, it looks like for once Eugene didn’t have to pull a story out of his ass. He actually got a good one. Although he did guess at a few things.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well”—she seemed to be considering her words carefully, which was no surprise for a PR rep, Jess supposed—“he said the Cox campaign was responsible for the assassination and that Polly Cox did have knowledge of the plan prior to it happening, which, turns out, is true. Or at least verified by the shooter.”
“They caught him?” A weight lifted from her shoulders.
“Yes, but hold up before you get excited. In typical fashion, Eugene Thornton has added a bit of his own flourish to the narrative.”
“Of course.” And here it came. She could sense the doom before it hit. “What’s he saying?”
“Well, he says his sources also name you as a coconspirator.”
* * *
The McCloud home was well stocked with tampons by the time Wendy Peterman arrived an hour later. It had taken all of Jessica’s amateurish acting skills to keep from tipping her mother off to the truth that something terrible was unfolding.
Destinee had been so exhausted from working two hours later than she’d intended, covering for one of her coworkers who “can’t take one day off being a worthless sack of shit to get to work on time” and was therefore oblivious to the obvious signs that something wasn’t right.
Firstly, Jessica was watching The Bachelorette. It had been a calculated choice, make no mistake. Destinee McCloud would never turn off The Bachelorette to see what was happening in the rest of the world.
But Jessica would never turn on The Bachelorette for any reason other than to distract her mother. It was a move so obvious, Jess wondered if it would immediately tip off Destinee that something wasn’t right, but thankfully, she was too tired to pick up on it and was likely grateful to be saved the energy of deciding how to spend her night.
The second obvious clue was that Jessica immediately offered to go plug in her mother’s phone so it could charge. Of course she didn’t mention she would also turn the phone to silent and leave it in the cramped laundry room, which Destinee only ever used on Sunday evenings while cursing herself for having forgotten to do the laundry for the upcoming week.
But Destinee had accepted the offer without a second thought. “Thanks, baby. I mean, I’ve had a day. Nice to be pampered a bit. Maybe you can teach Rex how this works.”
It was right after Destinee had asked how her day was and Jessica responded with “Wonderful!” that she thought she’d definitely pushed the charade too far. Surely Destinee would know she was lying and covering up something, with an answer as positive as that; Jessica hadn’t had a wonderful day in all her life.
Even still, Destinee simply looked at her daughter curiously for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Didn’t miss football?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
“Maybe you made the right choice then.”
Phew. Another bullet dodged.
Jessica grabbed two beers from the fridge and brought them into the living room, handing one over to her mother before flopping down on the couch as well. “Hey, Wendy is coming over in a little, but it’s no big deal. Just a check in.”
Destinee bolted upright where she sat. “Like hell it ain’t! What’s happened?”
Shit.
“Nothing, Mom. Everything’s fine.”
Destinee narrowed her eyes at Jessica. “Ahh … I see what’s going on here. You being all helpful, having a ‘wonderful’ day, watching The Bachelorette! Something’s real fucked up, ain’t it?” She fumbled with the remote, and Jessica knew she would be sunk as soon as her mother landed on a news station. One of them was bound to be covering the assassination scandal.
But the local news had already finished, and before Destinee could find where Jessica had plugged in her phone, there was a knock on the front door.
Jessica sprinted over and let Wendy inside.
“What the shit is going on?” Destinee demanded, charging into the living room from the kitchen, clutching her Shiner but otherwise empty handed. “I got a bug-out bag in my closet. Do we need the bug-out bag?”
“No, no,” Wendy said calmly, motioning for Destinee to relax. She shot a what-did-I-tell-you glance at Jess. “It looks bad, but we’re going to get it under control quickly.”
“She doesn’t actually know,” Jess said.
Wendy sighed. “Ah. Okay. Mrs. McCloud, would you mind making us some tea?”
“Tea?” Destinee echoed, confused. “Like Lipton?”
Wendy flinched minutely. “Sure. Lipton sounds fine.”
Once they were seated around the kitchen table and Wendy had filled Destinee in on the basics, pausing occasionally to assure her that it really was best for everyone if they came up with a plan before “kicking all those politicians’ asses,” the Lipton had finished brewing.
“I’ll just take mine hot,” Wendy said, when Destinee began emptying the ice tray into three glasses.
Destinee eyed her like she was crazy. “Okay then.” She switched out one of the glasses with a coffee cup. “You want sweet or unsweet?”
Wendy had to think about that. “Do you have any honey?”
“Honey?” Destinee echoed. “Uh. Maybe. But it’s gonna be old.” She headed to the pantry and began digging through. “How long does honey last before it expires?”
“Thousands of years at least,” Wendy said.
Destinee’s head shot out of the pantry, and she looked at her daughter.
Jess nodded.
“All right,” Destinee said, “whatever you say, but that sure doesn’t sound right.”
Destinee brought over two iced teas and one hot cup of Lipton with honey and sat down across from Wendy, who looked at Jess. “Oh, Jameson sends his regards.”
“Crap! Does he think I was in on shooting him?”
“No, no. Well, I mean, at first, yeah. I convinced him otherwise, though. He gets it. You were both similarly exploited by Cox. I gave him your number and he said he’d call. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Jess slipped her phone from her pocket, scrolled down the list of missed calls, and found the unknown number, then saved it as Jameson Fractal? just in case.
“Are you checking Facebook?” Wendy asked. She didn’t sound mad.
“No.”
“Oh. I was just going to say that you might want to release a statement on all your social media channels, one we’d compose together, obviously. And I forgot to mention that I was looking for you on a few different ones, and couldn’t find you. We really need to up your SEO and get you some followers, otherwise you’ll never have the necessary visibility for a successful platform.”
“Um.” Jess didn’t know how to break the news to Wendy. She knew the PR rep wouldn’t be thrilled about it. “I don’t actually … I’m not on social media.”
“Oh sure,” Wendy replied understandingly. “So like, you have a personal Facebook account, but you haven’t created an official page? Or like, you Snapchat, but it�
��s under an alias?”
“No. See—”
Destinee took it from there. “She tried the Facebook thing in junior high, and it didn’t work out so great with the cyberbullying and all that.”
Wendy chuckled, wide-eyed as if she thought she were being played. “Well, everyone’s cyberbullied. That’s just part of it.” She paused, and her smile faded. “So wait, are you telling me— You mean to say you don’t actually— I couldn’t find you on Twitter because—” Slowly it dawned on the poor woman. A sharp intake of air caused her to choke, and she gulped down her tea, cringing around the taste, to regain control of her breathing.
Jessica shot a concerned glance at Destinee, who shook her head minutely and mouthed, “It’s fine.”
Eventually Wendy was able to speak again. “You don’t have any social media presence?”
“I have an email address I use for school stuff,” Jessica supplied lamely.
Wendy laughed, then her face went slack, then she laughed again. “You have an email address.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I guess that’s where we start.” She popped her knuckles and rolled her neck in slow circles. “What’s your email address?”
“MexicanKicker7 at hot—”
“No.”
“Huh?”
Wendy looked like she was going to be sick. “Just … Please stop.” She shut her eyes and massaged her temples. “Okay. This is worse than I thought. We’ll have to start from scratch. God. MexicanKicker?” She took three deep breaths, and then opened her eyes and sat up straight again. “Listen, Polly Cox’s poll numbers are about to tank. The only reason I say, ‘about to’ is because there hasn’t been enough time to poll people yet. But it’s not going to be good, come tomorrow.”
Jess felt despair congeal in her stomach. “But that means Jimmy will win.”
Wendy nodded. “By default, yes. Probably. But I don’t do PR for Polly Cox. She’s not my problem, thank God. I just have to worry about you right now, and you need to distance yourself from all of this as quickly as possible. You need to take control of your narrative.”
“Meaning?” Destinee asked.
“Meaning,” said Wendy, “that we have a lot of work to do to get your social media branding up and running before people wake up tomorrow. You need to take back your story from the hands of the masses.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” Jessica said. Her mind drifted back to being bored earlier that evening, and she wished she’d enjoyed that more while it lasted.
Wendy was already busy though, typing away on a tablet she’d pulled from her large purse. “Do you own your domain name?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Wendy blinked quickly three times. “Okay. Wow. Um. Let’s start small. Destinee, go grab me whatever baby photos of Jessica you have. And we’ll need more coffee. Jessica, start writing down your thoughts in one hundred and forty character chunks—”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” Wendy snapped. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing here. When it comes to social media, less you ask why, the better you’ll be at it.”
“But what do I write about?”
Wendy waved her hand vaguely in the air before jabbing at her tablet. “Whatever. Things you like, things that interest you.”
“Like giraffes?”
Finally Wendy seemed to approve as she smiled at Jessica. “Giraffes. Perfect.” She hesitated. “You’re pro-giraffe, right?”
“God. Of course. Who’s not—”
“Good. We don’t need to add PETA to this cluster.”
So as Destinee returned with a tub of baby pictures and Wendy began calling her favorite web developers, Jessica took to writing down her thoughts in one hundred and forty characters or fewer, starting with, Wish I could be at the zoo right now. I wonder what the giraffes are up to? Ugh. Gonna be a late night.
And it was.
“I swear to my Father, if I never have to do another press conference, I’ll die happy, come what may.” Jess flipped through her note cards as she vented to Miranda, who’d made the short drive out to Gordon’s, where Jessica’s statement was to be made regarding her involvement in the assassination conspiracy.
When Wendy had asked her the night before where she thought would be a good location, Gordon’s was the first place to pop into her head; she had enough happy memories there that she thought it might feel like home-field advantage, but without literally being at her home field again.
Also, she thought it might be nice to get a burger beforehand.
Destinee and Coach Rex slid into the booth across from where Jessica and Miranda sat, bringing with them the tray heaped with wrapped burgers, which they began to open. The food smelled incredible as usual, but Jessica was horrified to discover that she wasn’t hungry.
Is this what dying feels like?
YOU’LL FIND OUT EVENTUALLY.
Oh, look who’s in a good mood today.
THE LORD HATH NOT MOODS.
We both know that’s not true.
WELL, I’M NOT MOODY.
Must be nice. Benefit of being a man, I guess.
I AM NOT A MAN.
Oh. Well, male, I guess.
NOT THAT EITHER.
Wait. A woman? No way.
NO WAY INDEED.
Then what are you?
IT’S COMPLICATED.
Cool. I don’t want to know.
Miranda waved to someone walking through the doors of Gordon’s and Jessica, glancing up, spotted Chris. Instantly she felt that familiar glowing warmth that she got every time she saw his tan face and shiny blond hair, but then she remembered that she was furious with him. The sand bag in her stomach grew heavier.
“Sorry,” Miranda whispered as he headed over. “I know y’all are fighting, but I figured you’d want him here.”
Miranda was the only person Jessica had told about her argument with Chris, and even then it had only been the bare bones. Details about who said what and anything involving Mrs. Thomas were left out entirely since Jess wasn’t even sure what she thought of all that yet.
Chris paused by the table, and Jess could feel his eyes on her head as she stared down at her note cards. “Can we talk?” he mumbled.
“Have a seat!” Destinee said, oblivious. “We probably have an extra burger somewhere in this pile. You can help yourself.”
“Thanks, Mrs. McCloud, but I already ate.” Chris refusing a burger was enough to tip off just about anyone that something was wrong, and Destinee was no exception.
“Everything okay?” she asked slowly.
Jessica sighed. “It’s fine, Mom.” She stood up and followed Chris outside the restaurant and around the corner where they could have some privacy.
“I’m sorry,” Chris gushed as soon as they were alone. “I shouldn’t have stormed into your house like that yesterday.”
“I’m sorry I said all those stupid things.”
“I wanted to apologize to you at lunch, but—”
She held up a hand. “I know.” Or rather, she’d assumed he would try at some point throughout the school day. Only, after a late night of brainstorming, and considering a large portion of her classmates might be under the impression she was part of a conspiracy to murder everyone’s favorite heartthrob (never mind that she was also the one who brought him back to life), it hadn’t been a hard decision to take a sick day and stay home to practice her statement for that afternoon. Meaning poor Chris had no way to properly apologize all day.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just pissed.”
He recoiled.
“No, not at you,” she added. “At— I don’t know. Everyone. Eugene Thornton. But it seems pointless to be mad at Eugene Thornton, because I’m always mad at him, and he keeps winning.”
Chris took a step closer. He was only a foot away from where she leaned with her back against the brick exterior of the restaurant. “Except that time we made out in f
ront of his news van when he wasn’t expecting it.”
Jessica chuckled, and the vibrations dislodged some of the dread clinging to the walls of her esophagus, allowing her to breathe more freely. “Yeah, that was good.”
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, grinning mischievously.
She knew he was fishing, so she decided to tease him. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? Just yeah? Cold, Jess.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I forgive you.”
He closed his eyes briefly as the shiver crawled down his spine, then he leaned forward hesitantly, and when she tilted her mouth up toward his, he went for it.
Almost immediately after their lips connected, the wing beats of camera shutters exploded behind them.
Chris jerked back. “God dammit.” He turned toward the source of the sound. A reporter Jessica had never seen before stood only a few feet away, camera held at chest level as the young, pale woman stood planted to the spot, seemingly terrified in the face of Chris’s mild annoyance. Probably some amateur. There were more and more of those lately.
“Scram,” he shot at the woman, who didn’t look much older than him and stood at least a foot shorter. The woman scrammed.
He turned back around. “Where were we?”
Jess frowned. “I need to get inside and go over my statement a couple more times.”
He nodded understandingly and stepped away. “Hey, do you think your mom really meant it about y’all having an extra burger? I could go for a burger.”
Jess sighed and grabbed his hand in hers. “Yeah, probably so.” And they walked back inside.
Wendy had no time for burgers when she arrived fifteen minutes later, dressed in a tight skirt that emphasized her small waist and big hips, causing Chris’s eyes to roam over her body when he didn’t think Jessica would notice.
But Jessica noticed. Of course.
“I don’t know that I can make myself any clearer,” Wendy began once she’d squeezed into the booth next to Coach Rex, who didn’t seem too put out by suddenly finding himself the meat of a Destinee and Wendy sandwich. “Read verbatim what’s written on your cards. Don’t worry about looking up from them. Don’t worry about connecting with the audience. Just read the cards, and when you’re done, say, ‘Thank you, no questions, please,’ which again, is written on the cards, so you shouldn’t forget that, and then walk off the stage and head straight for Chris’s truck, where he’ll be waiting to get you the hell out of here.”
It's a Miracle! Page 15
