He nodded and the PR girl adjusted his tie. Her name was Flora, and she seemed too young to be involved in something so high-stakes as this, but Rees said she was the best.
“Remember how we practiced,” Flora said, and he stepped around her.
“I got this,” he said, oozing confidence, and I hoped that was true. But usually when Rees put his mind to something, it typically ended okay. He took my hand, squeezed it, and kissed me. “Tell me to break a leg.”
“Break a leg. Or two.” I kissed him again, wanting hi to stay and linger with me, not go out in front of that crowd—half of which wanted to see him fail.
But he released my hand and stepped into the spotlight, and the murmur of the crowd died off. I stood to the side and watched, eyes skimming the crowd. I recognized some reports, and Lady Fluke nodded toward me with a prim jerk of her chin. I smiled back, not wanting to be rude, even if I did think she was a real asshole.
“Thank you all for coming,” Rees said, shuffling some papers, which were actually blank. He had the whole presentation memorized. “This should be fairly short, but first, I’ll remind all the press in attendance about the no recording policy in place.” There was another general murmur as Rees stared at them, then too ka breath, and began.
“All my life, I worked harder than my peers. I don’t say that to brag, even if I am bragging.” Some small laughter. He pushed on. “I want you all to understand that the choices I’ve made have always been in the best interests of my various endeavors, and though lately it has seemed as though my personal life might overshadow my career, I think I can set the record straight in that department.” He glanced over at me and nodded. I held up a remote control and hit a button to dim the lights, then another to start the video.
It was short, and shaky, and depicted Desmond in his filthy kitchen. The crowd sat in rapt, quiet attention. Lady Fluke’s mouth dropped open. Modesto looked like he wanted to puke. The whole clip played once, then a second time. I hit another button, and the lights came back up. Rees stood there in the silence, soaking it in, as the video turned off.
That was why we had a no recording policy. Though he wanted to show the people in attendance, he didn’t want that clip leaking out into the wider world. Desmond was going through something bad, and Rees was committed to helping him—but releasing a clip like that would only do more damage than good. I was impressed by his dedication to Desmond, even though Des didn’t deserve it at all. He seemed like he felt obligated, but also that he genuinely pitied the man, and wanted to bring him out of whatever nightmare he’d falling into.
If it were up to me, I would’ve left Des there to drink himself to death, but maybe Rees was the better person after all.
“As you can clearly see, the man that has been spreading these rumors about me is sick. Mentally ill, caused by alcoholism, or exacerbated by it, I don’t know. But he’s not in a good state. I played that, because otherwise, my words wouldn’t have as much weight. Please listen when I say, I’m going to help him, and hopefully find a way to drag him out of this miserably situation he’s found himself in.
“But my business has nothing to do with Desmond. The rumors about my personal life are all just that: rumors and gossip, all stemming from a single disturbed individual that needs help, not a platform to spread lies. I’ve lost investors, had my future career threatened, and all of that wasn’t because of him, but because you people in this room right now.”
The silence almost hurt. I could see the shock on some faces, the outrage on others. I wanted to go out there and rub all their faces in it, but I knew that wouldn’t help.
Rees took a breath and slowly let it out.
“You amplified that man,” he said, gesturing toward the blank screen. “You took his ravings as truth. You people failed to follow up on your single source, and look at you now. This whole sorry affair has been embarrassing, and I am finished with it. As of right now, my SPAC will go public tomorrow, and all of you can leave this room with the knowledge that you did an innocent man harm, and might’ve ignored the cries for help from a very sick individual, all for your own personal gain, all for clicks on a story, and for clout and reputation.”
He stood for another moment staring at them hard, then left the podium.
The room erupted. Reporters shouted at him. Modesto stood and left, his face pale. Lady Fluke looked at me, not moving, her face pulled into a frown—and for her, she might as well have been weeping. I nodded at her and followed Rees, back into the small staging area where Flora congratulated him, and beyond, through the back door and into the hallway.
He leaned against the wall and looked at the ceiling. I stood next to him and took his hand, gripping it tight in both of mine. “How do you think that went?” I asked.
He closed his eyes and for a moment I was afraid we were finished—but he looked at me and grinned. “I think it’s going to be the biggest god damn public offering ever.”
I laughed and kissed him, and he hugged me. “You should’ve seen them,” I said. “After you left, they were freaking out.”
“Good. Let them go wild. They’ll write stories, and I guarantee we’ll double our investors overnight.” He kissed me and held it there, and I kissed him back, heart flipping in my chest, hands tingling with nerve and need and desire.
