“Silverline is a closed studio because they don’t want any leaks. But what if we could get them to give just a little?” I say.
It would have to be benign things, nothing that would give away any spoilers. No pictures from the actual set and no script reveals.
Luke snaps his fingers. “They’re doing a read-through of the first couple of episodes on Thursday. What if we get a picture of them side by side, their scripts in front of them.”
“We could put it out Fridaymorning,” I say.
“Let’s run it by Victoria.”
Victoria doesn’t let us post it on Friday.
She wants it out by Thursday instead. I’m pretty sure she loved the idea, even if her initial email response was only one word: “Yes.”
But the fact that she wanted to fast-track the post made it seem like she was pleased with this plan.
We used the staff photographer, who sent us the picture in black and white. Luke didn’t like it at first, but I saw the art of it. Just Bailey and River, sitting together at the reading table, caught mid-laugh while holding on to scripts, the placards in front of them reading “Kaelric” and “Elora.”
The show’s official social media account posted it first, and then with the studio’s approval, both Bailey and River shared it to their personal accounts.
By Thursday afternoon the post is everywhere, and most importantly, it’s working. #EloraandKaelric is trending, which is exactly what we wanted—to get the focus on the characters and not our clients.
As long as this keeps going well, I think Victoria will let us do more behind-the-scenes content.
“I feel like we need to celebrate,” Luke says.
We’re in my office, and he’s sitting across the desk from me. We’ve been tracking Brandwatch and pulling up posts from delighted fans. Some of them were literally screaming at the picture of Bailey and River.
You Oughta Know said that she wasn’t getting excited yet, but that she didn’t hate the picture. So we took that as a win.
“Got any champagne with you?” I ask. It’s too soon for that, since we both know how quickly things can change. But a small celebration is warranted.
Luke pats the pockets of his jacket and pants. “Shoot, I think I left it back at my office.”
I laugh. It’s probably more boisterous than the joke warranted, but I’m feeling sort of euphoric right now. We needed this win.
“Should we maybe get some dinner?” Luke asks, eyebrows raised. “I’m starving.”
“Oh,” I say. “I mean, I was—”
“Come on, Archie,” he says. “Pulse is paying.” Now he’s wiggling his brow.
I was going to go home and eat some leftovers and watch moreKingdom of Flame and Moonlightwith Sam. But a free dinner does sound enticing.
“Okay. Let’s go,” I say.
We take Luke’s car—the same white Audi he drove when he worked for Harrow & Finch—to a place he says has the bestburgers he’s ever had.
It’s actually an Italian restaurant I’ve never been to. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays you can get an off-menu burger, but only at the chef’s counter, which has six barstools along a narrow ledge facing the open kitchen. Close enough to see the flames, smell everything cooking, and watch the chefs plate each dish.
“Okay, this is really good,” I say after eating a bite of the burger and swiping some of the aioli that dripped onto my chin with my napkin.
As a serial dater, I can say with full confidence that burgers are not a good choice for a first date. They’re too messy. Same with spaghetti or anything off the bone. It’s best to stick with something you can eat with a knife and fork.
So it’s a good thing this isn’t a date. Plus, I was starving by the time we arrived, and sitting here smelling all the amazing food they were cooking behind the counter made me ravenous.
Translation: I’m scarfing this thing down.
“I told you,” Luke says, glancing over at me, holding his burger in both hands.
