We can’t get these pictures up soon enough.
By six thirty in the evening, Luke and I are back in the war room, staring at the pictures of our clients looking pleasant as they leave a coffee shop. Bailey is wearing a flowy sundress and acrossbody bag, and River is in a striped T-shirt and jeans and dark sunglasses.
“I think we should go with this one,” I say, clicking on a picture with my mouse to enlarge it. “See how she’s looking at him?”
Luke nods. “But River looks like he has some constipation issues. Look at his jaw.”
I snort laugh when I see what he means. His jaw looks rigid. It’s a stretch, but as we’ve seen time and time again, these influencers can make mountains out of molehills.
“Okay, then this one,” I say, clicking on the next picture. It’s the same pose, essentially, but River’s jaw looks a little less clenched.
“That works,” says Luke.
We select the three best photos, and they are exactly what we wanted: casual and friendly.
I send them off to the studio. Once we get approval, we’ll letPeoplemagazine have them.
“Do you think it will work?” Luke asks while we wait.
“I really hope so,” I say.
But it doesn’t work. Not at all.
Chapter 17
PR Tip #19:The best strategy is the one you haven’t tried yet.
It turns out Luke and I suck at picking photos.
“This is such crap,” Luke says, pointing at my laptop screen as we sit in my office the next day, watching the latest video from You Oughta Know.
“Notice Bailey’s left hand holding on to her bag,” she says, in front of a green screen, her mousy-brown hair curled and hanging around her shoulders, the picture blown up behind her. “This is classic defensive posture.”
“She doesn’t look defensive at all,” I yell at the screen, like I’m watching football and the ref just made a bad call.
“Then in this one”—the background picture changes to the one of them sitting at a booth in the coffee shop. Luke and I both agreed that it was a good, casual photo. “See how River’s smile looks just slightly forced? Like he’s trying too hard?”
“I told you he looked constipated,” Luke says, shaking his head at the screen.
“This is PR at its best, my Sunbeams. And my sources confirmed this, saying the studio is worried about this next season and the fact that their two major stars aren’t getting along.”
“What sources?” Luke asks. “She’s making this up.”
“I hate her,” I say, pausing the video. I can’t watch any more of this trash. It’s viral already, with people reposting and making stitches.
Luke pulls his phone out of his pocket. “That’s it. I’m reporting her account again.”
“It’s pointless,” I say. She’s not violating anything except my ability to do my job.
“Yes, but it feels proactive,” he says.
I wish it would work, because getting You Oughta Know banned from social media would probably solve most of my problems. But she’d just start another account, and everyone would follow her there. These accounts are like cockroaches. They keep coming back.
Luke slumps back in his chair, the one I pulled up next to mine so we could watch the video.
He swipes a hand down his face. “I’m not sure we can get ahead of this,” he says. “Everything we try is being torn apart.”
Just as he says this, a new message arrives in my email from Victoria, like we’re being kicked when we’re already down.
