“Another statement?” Tessa offers.
“No one will believe it at this point.”
Tessa taps her pad of paper with the end of her pen. “What about posting something about the show?”
I shake my head. “Too soon. And anyway, the studio wouldn’t approve because it would look like she’s using it to save herself.”
We also don’t want this on their radar, although I’m sure they have people watching.
“Oh, right. Good point,” Tessa says.
I let out a breath. “We need something that’s completely separate from River, this war, and the show.”
“Maybe some volunteer work?” she asks.
“Tessa, you’re a genius,” I say.
“Bailey, are you there?” I ask after taking her off hold.
“I’mhere,” she says.
“Are you still volunteering?” I ask, remembering seeing something in her file about it.
“At the Boys and Girls Club? Yes.”
My swirling stomach finally relaxes because this is the answer. This will remind people that Bailey is a real person with a real life outside of all this. It’s pretty hard to villainize someone who spends their Saturdays making a difference in children’s lives.
“But I don’t want anyone to know about that,” she says.
I pull my chin in, surprised. “Why not? It would be perfect.”
“Because it’s not something I want broadcast.”
“I get that, but—”
“There are so few things in my life that I have to myself,” she cuts me off. “I couldn’t even have a private breakup. Right now, this is the only thing that’s just mine.”
“That makes sense,” I say, feeling a mixture of emotions. I’m disappointed because Bailey’s selflessness could be just what we need to turn the narrative around.
But also, I’m impressed. Most people in this business do things to be seen, because that’s the point. The more you’re seen, the more people remember you, the more jobs you get. Bailey’s not that kind of celebrity. It’s refreshing even if it ruins my idea.
“What else can we do?” she asks.
I want to give her an answer, to take action right away, but the truth is, I’m backed into a corner. I’m sure Simone would have backup ideas for her backups and would just rattle off her nextplan, but I’ve been trying that for two weeks and it’s not working. My brain doesn’t work that way.
What I need is more time, which is very un-Simone. But . . . I’m not Simone, as is becoming increasingly obvious.
“Can I think about it and get back to you?”
“Of course,” she says.
Two hours later, we have a plan. And some coffee. I sent Tessa out to grab some from the place down the street.
Is the plan good? I think so. Will it work? Hopefully. Would Simone do this? Probably not, but that’s because the whole thing hinges on one midsize fan account—one that’s not You Oughta Know and her whiny voice—to make it happen.
Translation: It’s risky.
After I hung up with Bailey, Tessa and I started brainstorming. What we needed was something to make the internet recognize that Bailey is a human being. Not just an actress they watch on TV or someone who used to be in a high-profile relationship that may or may not have ended with cheating. We needed something real.
