Like right now, for instance, as I press “Play” again on a video about Bailey that, for all intents and purposes, is meant to be a hit piece.
And it’s . . . not good. It came out Thursday night—prime time for things to circulate through the weekend—and by Friday morning You Oughta Know had reposted it. It was like dropping a match in dry brush and walking away. By late morning it’s a wildfire.
“You’re watching it again?” Tessa asks, a concerned look on her face, her pad of paper on her lap, the entire page full of notes.
It’s the third time I’ve watched it, though I hate to give You Oughta Know the views. The first time through, I was in shock. The second elicited anger. This time I’m watching for strategy. Because I’m going to need one.
The past two days have been smooth sailing since we released the statement—no vague T-shirt messages, no dog posts from River. It almost convinced me we were through the worst of it. I really wanted it to be true.
But no. Instead, things are much, much worse.
How are things worse? The ten-minute video walks through Bailey’s entire career trajectory, using quotes taken out of context and a timeline that takes many liberties, and surmises that Bailey is a calculating social climber who used River to catapult her career.
It’s obvious to anyone who knows Bailey that none of it is true, but to everyone else, it seems reasonable. It’s a stretch, but a convincing one. And in this business, convincing is all that matters.
The piece has been up for six hours, and it’s pretty much everywhere.
“Do you think it was Luke?” Tessa asks. It’s actually the second time she’s asked this. The first time was during our first watch when I was seething and trying to wrap my brain around it all.
It was my first thought, of course. This would be a calculated (and smarmy) move from his camp, and I’m apt to believe he’sbehind it, but also, what purpose would it serve? I guess it could be their response to the Wooster video, but that wasn’t a shot at River—that was showing Bailey as a human being with a past. This feels like bringing a flamethrower to a Nerf gun fight. What would be the point in escalating now, when we’ve just put out an amicable joint statement?
I feel like pointing fingers, though, and the only person I can point them at right now is Luke. And it’s going to be my middle one that does the talking.
I send him a text.
Me:Are you behind the video?
I don’t give him any context because we’ve both been paying attention to each side of this war. He’ll have seen it.
The three dots appear almost immediately.
Jerkwad:Had nothing to do with it.
Me:You better hope it wasn’t you
Jerkwad:I do love it when you threaten me. ButI promise. Not us.
I slam my phone down on my desk, startling Tessa. I don’t like giving him the benefit of the doubt, but him being behind it also doesn’t add up.
Sitting back in my chair, I blow air from my lips. Feeling defeated.
“What should we do?” Tessa asks.
“No clue,” I say.
If Bailey makes a statement, it will look like damage control. A post on social media would look defensive. If we stay silent, that looks like guilt.
Translation: We are in a pickle.
My cell phone rings.
“It’s Bailey,” I say to Tessa.
She gives me wide eyes and then opens her pad to a new page, her pen ready.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Claire?” Her voice is wobbly and thick.
