by Amy Brent
“Way to go, Sarah. You snagged a good one. People are going to be tuning in for fucking weeks,” my boss said.
“Get it, Sarah. Only you could snag that type of playboy and put him in his place,” someone said.
“No, no, no, no. You don’t get it. This is bad. Very, very bad,” I said.
“Probably not the best publicity, no. People on Twitter are already ripping you to shreds, calling you a hypocrite and mess. But, you’ve grown your followers by five-hundred thousand since this picture landed this morning.”
“This morning?” I asked.
“I can’t wait to see the ratings after this interview today,” my boss said.
“Do you care about anything else?” I asked. “I worked my ass off to gain the reputation I had, and now it’s all been shot to shit, and all you care about is how many people tune in?”
“Sarah, people tuning in is why you have a job. Scandal always draws in more viewers. If you want, you can make a formal statement, get all over your social media and spin it the way you spun your ex-boyfriend shit a month ago. It’ll be fine. You’ll bounce back. You always do,” my boss said.
I had no idea what to do. If this picture dropped this morning, Emma had already seen it. She may not tune into the show, but she was a pop culture junkie. This was going to be everywhere, and it was going to anger her in ways I’d never seen before.
Holy fuck, I was going to kill Mason.
“Hey, listen. I gotta get back to my office,” my boss said. “The media frenzy is stifling. Prepare a formal statement if you want to, but start getting ready for your interview. I have a feeling the person’s gonna want to interview early and get out of here. Paparazzi and news stations are gathering outside.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, groaning.
I went back into my office and immediately called Mason. He picked up before the first ring was even through, and I didn’t even give him a chance to speak.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this bullshit with you,” I said.
“How the fuck did that guy still have that photo?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked.
“It’s been painfully obvious that you wanted to leak this to the media. I saw your face when we destroyed that SIM card. You didn’t want to do it. I knew that look. You wanted to be seen with a powerful woman like me, so you could rehabilitate your image or look like a bigger playboy for bringing down the girl with morals or some shit.”
“I don’t know what the hell kind of shit you’re talking, but that’s not the case. And anyway, if I wanted to date a woman with influence, I’d pick one who was known outside of her own fucking home state.”
“We’re not dating, Mason. We never were!” I exclaimed.
“Listen, I’m dealing with a media frenzy right now—”
“Oh, and I’m not? Look at me, I’m Mason Baker, I have a dick, so the media only wants me?”
“Sarah, take a deep breath—”
“I’m done taking deep breaths with you,” I said. “This is what I was talking about. They’re slaughtering me all over social media for abandoning my morals and sinking to the low of dating you, and I guarantee you they’ll do nothing but pump up your image. And it’ll be because I’m the one in that picture. Let’s get that straight right fucking now.”
“Why the hell are you so mad at me?” he asked. “I’m not the one who leaked the photo.”
“I don’t fucking believe you, but even if I did, you’re the one who wouldn’t stop, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You were the one who got my assistant fired by lying to her to get my information. You were the one who sent my boss shit, so you could get into this studio. You used your influence and your money and your power and your name to get close to me when I told you no time and time again. This is all on you!”
“Then take responsibility for finally caving on your morals and saying yes, Sarah Williams. You didn’t have to say yes. You could’ve blocked my number and had me escorted off the premises of your studio, but you didn’t. You could’ve kicked me out of your dressing room, but instead, you spread those beautiful thighs for me and allowed me to do what we both wanted.”
“You’re a disgusting pig,” I said.
“And you’re a misguided little girl.”
“I have to go,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I hate you, and I have to call Emma.”
“Sarah, wait.”
“What? You gonna call me a scared little bitch for listening to what you have to say?” I asked.
“I like spending time with you.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I like seeing you, Sarah.”
“I’m hanging up now, Mason.”
“I enjoy every second we spend together, and I need you to understand that. I didn’t leak this photo, and you’re right. My reputation will skyrocket because it’s you, and yours will drop because it’s me. I get that.”
“I can’t handle you anymore. Please go away.”
I hung up the phone as tears poured down my face. My life was falling apart. One stupid little word and my entire reputation was tarnished. Emma was going to hate me, and I had no idea how I was going to fix that friendship. My boss was all over us dating, and I had no idea how I was going to get it through to him that we were never dating. I sniffled, wiping the tears from my cheeks as a knock came at my door.
And when I opened it up, my boss was standing there with a smile on his face.
“Can I come in?”
“No. And for once, you better listen.”
“Fine, but we do need to talk,” he said.
“About what?” I asked.
“Our interview today does want to go early, so we had the station announce it. They’ve pushed the lunchtime talk show back an hour, and they’re filling it with your interview.”
“What?” I asked.
“You need to get ready. You’re live during the most high-traffic hour of the day. And it’s all thanks to that strategically-leaked photo of you and Mason.”
“Not because of my hard work, my dedication, and my purpose?” I asked.
“Sarah, get over it. You’re a talk show host in Dallas, Texas. And a woman. This is how women rise the ranks. Scandal. Get over it, get ready, and get out there. Get us the ratings we need to put this show where we all know it needs to be.”
Any little string of hope I clung to snapped at that moment. He was right. I was never going to climb to where I wanted to be without linking myself with powerful men. I had elevated myself as far as I was going to go on my own, and it was going to take a man on my arm that the public wanted to digest fully for me to go any further.
“I’m not happy about this,” I said.
“I know that,” my boss said.
“I’m not making a statement on the picture, either. I’m just doing the interview.”
“Just do your normal thing. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Mac?”
“Yeah, Sarah?”
“Did you ever believe in me? In what I could accomplish with this show?”
In that very moment, I watched my boss of three years drop every single wall he’d ever thrown up. I saw him become human for a split second, and he finally realized what he was looking at. A scared little girl who wanted to make a difference who was realizing that maybe she didn’t.
Maybe this scared little girl didn’t make a difference after all.
“I’ve always believed in your show. It’s why I took a pay cut in order to work it.”
“You what?” I asked.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I heard Angie running down the hallway to get you ready. You’re on in forty-five.”
“Come on, girl,” Angie said. “Let’s get you ready for your lunchtime debut.”
But all I wanted to do was climb under a rock and cry. I’d never felt s
o helpless in my entire life. The thing I’d been striving toward since I was moved to the three o’clock hour was getting my show moved to lunchtime, and it was happening.
But it was happening because of that picture, and not because of my hard work.
“You ready?” Angie asked.
I stared at myself in the mirror and sighed. I sighed for the revelation I’d just come across. I sighed for the argument I’d just had with Mason. I sighed for the argument to come with Emma. But most of all? I sighed for my show.
I didn’t know if I believed in it anymore.
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 26
Mason
What the fuck was wrong with her? Why the hell was she blaming me for this shit? She wanted to keep doing this too. She wanted this arrangement as much as I had, though it might have taken a little coaxing. What the hell was so bad about it? Why was I so bad for her reputation? She exposed her scum boyfriend over a month ago! Why was it so hard to imagine her moving on with someone like me? I was better than that fucking scumbag. I’d done many things in my life, but cheating on a fucking woman was beneath me. I’d never pull that shit with Sarah, not in a million fucking years.
Even playboys had their standards and their own moral codes.
I called Sarah back after I watched her lunchtime interview. She was painted with makeup and a smile was plastered on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was rigid. Laid back. To the common eye, she looked fine. She was laughing with the person she was interviewing, and the entire segment was very humorous and respectful. But I knew better. I knew she was pissed.
What scared me was the fact that she was also lackadaisical. Almost like she didn’t care anymore.
That was very unlike Sarah.
I called her a few minutes after her show ended, but she didn’t pick up. I had to fight the urge to call her again, knowing if I pestered her long enough, she would finally answer. But, I fought against my urges, and I set my phone down. If I wanted any chance at garnering an audience with her anytime soon, I needed to leave her alone for the day. Let her wrap her mind around things and try to figure out what her next steps were.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I came and went from my house, ignoring the paparazzi that had managed to find my secluded property on the outskirts of Dallas. I told them I wasn’t giving any statements on the pictures, and I left it at that. Tony came over to field the press, trying to smooth things over without talking on my behalf. I kept my sunglasses on all day as I ran from place to place, still pricing out buildings where we could touchdown an office of ours and build up in the Dallas area.
I wanted to have all these numbers and figures going in case I could smooth things over with everyone.
Just as I was walking away from the fourth building I was pricing, I felt my phone vibrate on my hip. I wanted it to be Sarah. I wanted it to be her calling me, even if she yelled at me even more. That meant she hadn’t completely written me off yet, and I could convince her to meet me somewhere and have a glass of wine.
Just to talk about how we were going to navigate this.
But it was Tony, and I knew what he was going to say before I even put the phone to my ear.
“No, Tony,” I said.
“Mase, think about this. You need to give a statement. Hold a press conference and get out in front of this. The media will easily sway this into another scandal, and I’m not sure if a rousing round of positive interviews will fix this one.”
“Shit,” I said, groaning.
“You can keep it simple. You can keep Sarah’s name out of it, but you need to hold one. This is your image we’re talking about. This could tank the company.”
“I’m on my way to the house. Go ahead and set it up,” I said.
I drove up the driveway to my house, and the press was already setting up. Every single news station was there, and for the first time in my life, I felt nervous. I was nervous about standing up in front of those cameras and giving some sort of statement that would please them. If there was one thing I’d learned in the year that this company bloomed, it was that you could never fully please the media.
I had to understand that this didn’t only affect me. It affected Sarah and her career. It affected my relationship with Emma and whether she’d let me back in.
Oh fuck, this affected Emma.
We should’ve told her. Sarah and I should’ve told her right from the very beginning. We should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt instead of keeping this from her. She was going to be so pissed if she wasn’t already, and I didn’t know what I could do about it. We’d always had such a hard relationship, one that was surrounded by familial turmoil and Emma’s desperate need to piece her family back together. Emma would feel betrayed by the two people in her life she could trust, and the idea of being lumped into the same category as that asshat ex of hers made me sick to my stomach.
Instead of her brother and her best friend telling her about all this shit, she had to find out like a common groupie through the tabloids.
She was never going to forgive me.
I wanted to call her. I wanted to turn this car around, get on the phone with her, and meet her somewhere. I wanted to apologize. To beg for her forgiveness. I knew Sarah would never forgive me. I knew, deep down, she wasn’t coming back, but I’d enjoyed what I rekindled with my sister Wednesday night. The way she fell into me when I wrapped my arms around her.
Right then, I realized how much I wanted my sister in my life, but I knew she would screen my calls and probably ignore me like Sarah was doing now.
I pulled up to my house, and Tony came rushing over. He opened my car door, and I stepped out, buttoning up my suit coat as I turned toward the seated press. They were all on my front lawn, waiting desperately with their pens poised and their cameras ready. Tony patted me on my back and murmured something in my ear, but I didn’t catch it.
All I could think about was how I’d hurt Sarah and Emma in one fell swoop, and I felt helpless when it came to fixing it.
I walked up to the stand and cleared my throat. The cameras were rolling, and everyone was waiting on the edge of their seats, and suddenly, I knew exactly what I was going to say.
And I knew how to keep Sarah’s name out of it.
“This is stupid,” I began. “Every single bit of this.”
Tony’s brow furrowed slightly as he stood in the audience, but he didn’t move to stop me.
“Just because I’ve had a couple of scandals in the past, which both turned out to be lies, mind you, doesn’t mean I should be judged for kissing a beautiful woman outside of a restaurant. The first thing I want to make clear is that the picture was taken on the grounds of a restaurant that the city of Dallas has rendered a no-shoot-zone for the paparazzi. I know who took the photo, and you can rest assured that I’m coming after you.”
Tony was smirking in the back, and the press was in a writing frenzy as I looked directly into the camera.
“The woman in question in the photo does not deserve your anger. She’s vibrant, intelligent, and has somehow managed to tame the playboy that exists within me. I hear there are people calling her a hypocrite. Challenging her moral code and her ethics. So, I prompt you with this question. Why? Why is she a hypocrite? A woman who caught her ex-boyfriend cheating on her tossed him to the curb and took a public stance on how men should be treating women. With respect. With care. With the dedication and love they deserve. How does her kissing a man beside her car outside of a restaurant make her a hypocrite? Did she not wait long enough for you until she had eyes for someone else? Is there some book that outlines the proper amount of time a woman should grieve the loss of an asshole before she dips her toes back into the waters again?”
I took a deep breath and centered myself before my anger got the best of me on national television.
“There is no scandal here. Just two individuals with powerful influences enjoying lunch an
d each other’s company. The only scandal here is the fact that the photo was illegally apprehended, and that was after we chased down the man hiding like a coward in the bushes and deleted the photos from his camera. This man, this paparazzi who hid like an animal to forward his career, is the real scandal of this photo. And pretty soon, you will know his name because if he’s not fired in the next hour, I will buy out his place of employment just so I can fire him.”
Tony was biting back his laughter as all the press sitting on my lawn whipped up their heads in shock.
“The lives of the rich and influential are not yours to gawk over. I’m sure some media outlet will attempt to spin this as a scandal, so you heard it here first. There is none. Just a kiss, a beautiful woman, a man who enjoyed her company, and bellies full of a fabulous lunch that can be found at The Soufflé Salon. Thank you for your time, and there will be no questions taken.”
I stepped off the podium as pictures flashed and people called out with their questions. I stepped back into my home as Tony rallied all of them off my property, and I watched the news while impromptu workers broke down the press conference set up. I smiled when I saw the paparazzi guy’s face flash up on the screen. Fired within twenty minutes of me giving my statement.
Good fucking riddance to that asshole.
