“One of our clients went Twitter crazy. He was Twittering all over the internet.”
“Twittering all over the internet,” I repeat his statement, trying not to laugh as I realize this is no emergency, but rather an average day at work.
“Indeed. Spent the whole evening bad-mouthing one of the directors of the movie he just finished, making some very damning claims.” Stan stops walking and shakes his head. “Very damning.” His eyes meet mine with genuine concern. “If it’s true, I don’t know how we’ll carry on a relationship with the director.”
“Chances are, it isn’t. It’s probably sour grapes or angry words,” I lie. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“You have to fix this, Jenny. The movie releases soon and the press junket is in a few weeks. The director is saying he’s going to cut scenes, breach his contract with the studio. The actor says he won’t attend the junket, despite being under contract. The studio has been phoning me since three am. I haven’t had any sleep. I didn’t want to bug you this morning but—”
“Okay, sir.” I have nowhere to start. My brain is still sort of on Lawrence and the wedding, moving, and Ben. My mind is frozen but I nod. It’ll take some more coffee and a second to get my ideas rolling. “I’ll get Sukii to send me all the information, then I’ll grab another coffee and tackle this. Is Laura here yet?”
“No one’s been able to reach her. We’re pretty sure she’s mid flight from Japan.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Levisohn. Go home and get some sleep.” I smile wide, pretending to have all the confidence in the world. “I’ve got this. I’ll call if I need you.”
Which I won’t.
The world could be on fire and I wouldn’t call him. He’s an old man in a young man’s public relations world. He doesn’t understand the modern technologies at all. He can hardly text. He barely understands email.
When he started the company, it was a world of print and radio shows. He’s seventy years old and out of his league. But he’s a good boss, he cares about us, and he has a team of experts who understand the Twittersphere. And he just got me an apartment with next to no rent on the park, so extra work will be my pleasure, indefinitely.
“Sukii.” He glances behind me. “Can you get Jenny everything we have?”
“I’ve already emailed it to you. How was the first sleep in the new place?” Sukii beams mischievously, confirming my suspicion she helped Lawrence with the apartment.
“Magical.” Which is the truth. I lift a hand to Stan’s arm. “Sir, I’ll phone as soon as I know anything or have any ideas.”
“Thanks, Jenny. You’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry I haven’t asked about the apartment. Was it all satisfactory?”
“It’s too much, sir. I don’t know how to accept something so grand. I am grateful,” I say, not yet totally comfortable with the notion the apartment is mine. “And don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
“I never worry when you’re here.” He smiles and turns and walks away, shouting at Sukii as he heads to the elevator, “I’m going home to sleep. Unless there’s blood or fire or death, don’t call me until tomorrow.”
She waves him off as I hurry for my office to prepare. Not that it will be a huge ordeal for me to fix this. Our firm has handled this sort of thing weekly since I started working here as an intern almost six years ago.
“Good morning.” Sukii enters my office with a coffee. “Okay, he’s gone, like actually in the chopper. Let’s dish.”
“Thanks.” I take the coffee and hold it to my nose, inhaling the soothing medium roast she specially imports for the office from the UK. It’s from a boutique coffee-roasting company called Monsoon and a favorite amongst us all. “And thank you for helping Lawrence with the unpacking. I don’t know how to repay you guys.”
“What?” Sukii makes a doubt-filled face.
“You didn’t help Lawrence unpack me?” my voice cracks and my stomach tightens again.
“How could I? I left. I went to see Cap. He told me Lori was coming to see you. Why didn’t you unpack yourself?”
“Oh shit,” I whisper and tap my finger against my cup. “Okay, let’s worry about who unpacked me later.” I shake my head, trying not to think about how big of a skin-suit situation Lawrence clearly is. “How bad is this, the work thing?”
“It’s bad, but nothing more than the usual.” Her dark eyebrows lift with surprise. “New cast of characters this time, Liam Farringdon. You know him?”
“Yeah, of course. He’s in trouble? We’ve never dealt with him before, have we?”
“No, but it was only a matter of time. He’s become such a diva since he started his divorce proceedings from Margo. He’s got his panties in a knot with the director from his last movie. I guess the guy was drunk and started spouting shit last week, said the studio hired Liam for the job because he’s hot. And that Liam couldn’t act his way out of a wet paper bag.”
“Oh no.” None of our A-list celebrities would take that lightly.
“Right. So then Liam’s method of dealing with it was to go full diva on Twitter, calling the director a tyrant who allegedly jerks off to pictures of young—”
“I get it.” I smile, sipping the coffee but the taste is lost in the acid brewing in my stomach. “You said this was routine. Pervert accusations are not routine.”
“Oh yeah, I meant it was a ‘bunch of celebrities being dicks’ normal. So the shitstorm is that not only are the director and Liam our clients, but so is the studio. And they all want blood. Liam says he has proof of the director being a pervert. He’s threatening to expose him.”
“Oh good.” I cover my eyes. “Why do they have to open their mouths, or go on the internet when they’re pissed off? Why can’t they go for a jog?”
“Honestly.” She shrugs.
