It would be one thing if she could at least give me some advice, anything to help me through this. But she can’t, and there’s no one above Simone that works in celebrity PR. The other partners deal mostly with corporate and political clients.
So that means I’m fighting this PR war solo. Something I’ve never done before. I kind of feel like crying. Or perhaps a little primal screaming would soothe my soul right now.
Get it together, Claire.
“Okay.” I look at Tessa, the word coming out a bit shaky. “I guess we need to figure this out.”
She writesFigure this outon her notepad and underlines it twice.
Helpful.
There’s a knock at my open door, and I look up to see Rick Calloway, one of the partners, standing there.
“Hi, Rick,” I say, giving him what I hope is a confident smile, but it’s tinged with all the anxiety I’m feeling right now.
“Have you talked to Simone?” he asks, taking a step inside.
“No. But I just talked—”
“You’ll be handling her clients,” he says, cutting me off. Rick isn’t known around here for his touchy-feely management style.
“Of course,” I say, sitting straighter in my chair.
“Her calls and emails will be forwarded to you. Let the coordinators and interns handle the smaller stuff. You take the rest.”
“Will do,” I tell him.
“I’d offer to help myself, but this,” he says, making a circular motion with his index finger, “isn’t my wheelhouse.”
He nods once and leaves.
I let out a breath, sagging in my chair. It’s been a long day, and it’s only ten thirty.
But the hits keep on coming, because half an hour later, as I’m brainstorming what to do for Bailey, my office phone rings and the caller has no identification. I say a prayer that it’s somehow Simone on a secret phone, telling me this has all been a silly misunderstanding and she’s headed into the office.
“Hello?” I say after hitting the speaker button, my voice hopeful.
“Uh, hi,” a soft and lilting voice that’s definitely not Simone replies. “I’m looking for Simone Caldwell?”
How do I respond? I’ve been given no direction. Do I tell whoever this is that Simone is out on leave indefinitely? What would Simone do in this situation?
“Simone is not in the office today,” I say, giving some semblance of the truth.
“Oh,” says the woman. “Well, this is Bailey Lockhart. Is there any way to speak with her?”
I gape at Tessa. She gapes back before writing something in her notes.
“Hello?” Bailey asks when I don’t reply.
“Sorry, Ms. Lockhart, I can help. I’m . . . uh . . . covering Simone’s accounts while she’s out.”
You sound like an idiot, Claire.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Who is this?”
“This is Claire Archer,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I am. I’m not starstruck—I’ve met too many people, been to too many industry events, to feel that way. But I guess I’m sort of client struck? This is a higher-level client than I’m used to dealing with, and I want to make sure I get it right.
Because I can’t botch this. I’ve got to pull it together for me and for Simone. Even if Simone is sitting on a couch at homedrinking a cocktail (Can you even do that when you have high blood pressure? Probably not.) and left me here with no instruction and no idea what I’m doing.
