Page 100 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

The next day, I sat in my office, the phone call with my lawyer fresh in my mind. He had been my first call yesterday. I sought his counsel on the potential of suing for defamation. As much as I wanted to protect my reputation, I had never anticipated that the personal conversations I had shared with Merida would be weaponized against me in an opinion piece filled with libel. It was more about personal revenge than the idea I would actually win anything.

My jaw clenched as I reviewed the notes from our conversation. Nothing she had said in that article was a lie. She had painted a vivid, albeit painful, picture of our interactions, one that was difficult to deny. The lawyer’s voice had been measured as he explained the legal implications.

“In this case, you don’t really have a case at all,” he said carefully, like he was afraid I might blow up at him.

While it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, it did give me a mixture of relief and resignation. Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to go down the path of a lawsuit. It was just one more thing to add to the growing list of complications stemming from Merida’s article. I was angry and hurt and wanted to lash out at her. I had made the call in the heat of the moment. I was kind of glad it wasn’t going to go anywhere. I was pissed at her, but I didn’t want to destroy her. I supposed that was the difference between me and her.

I needed to focus on going through the motions of dealing with the fallout in an attempt to repair the damage she had caused to my life and my reputation. I almost believed her when she said she didn’t mean to publish the article. But it didn’t change the fact she wrote it in the first place. That was what really stung. To see what she really thought of me was hurtful. I thought I treated her with kindness and respect. Clearly, I was wrong.

I took a deep breath and headed back into the office from my brief trip down to the lobby to get fresh coffee. I braced myself for what awaited me. Hattie was already there, and the rest of the development team had assembled in the conference room. Their faces were etched with stress and determination. The place had that familiar, frantic, chaotic energy that had become the norm in the past couple of days.

I offered a grateful smile to my dedicated team, who had weathered the storm alongside me. “Thank you, everyone, for still being here and working your butts off,” I said, my voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I promise, after the launch, I’ll make sure to pay it back to each and every one of you.”

I hoped they believed me when I said I would make sure they were all going to be generously rewarded. I did give good bonuses.

Their weary but determined expressions relaxed into small smiles, and it was in that moment that I felt a renewed sense of purpose. We had a monumental launch ahead of us, and with this team by my side, we could weather any storm that came our way.

“We’re here for you,” one of them said.

“And the bonus,” another one joked.

“Trust me, if this thing takes off like it should, you’re going to be buying new cars. But please don’t quit on me. Once we roll out Lox, we’re going to keep moving forward. We’ve got a lot more to do. I’ll check in with you all later. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

I retreated to my office, seeking a moment of solitude before the live interview I had scheduled for later that evening. Hattie had arranged it after filtering through the many, many requests Carl sent her way. She explained we had the pick of anyone I wanted to talk to because anyone who was someone in this town wanted to give me a time slot. I was going to be ratings gold.

Carl was negotiating questions and making it clear what was off limits. Even when deals were made, a pushy interviewer always tried to get one of the questions that were off limits into the interview. I was used to it.

Hattie, Carl, and the whole damn PR crisis team insisted I had to go public and get my face out there. A smiling face. I needed to discredit the article by laughing it off and being approachable. I felt a little bad that I was going to be discrediting Merida, but when it came down to it, it was me or her. Even knowing the interview was a must, I couldn’t help but dread it.

As I sat at my desk, I went through my notes and prepared myself for the questions that were bound to come. The late-night show’s host was known for their probing and often relentless interviews, and they wouldn’t hold back.

Hattie popped her head into my office, a reassuring smile on her face. “Jensen, you’ve got this,” she said with a smile. “Just be yourself and tell your side of the story. People will understand.”

I nodded, trying to summon a sense of confidence. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation. This interview would be my chance to address the public, to set the record straight, but it also meant opening myself up to further scrutiny and judgment. I loathed talking about my personal life. It felt unnatural, and it was seriously uncomfortable.

Later in the evening, a car arrived at my doorstep, ready to whisk me away to the late-night show. Hattie joined me, taking a seat beside me in the back as we embarked on the short journey. The city lights blurred by as we discussed the dos and don’ts for my upcoming interview.

Hattie, always the pragmatist, leaned in and lowered her voice. “Remember, Jensen, you shouldn’t say anything about Faux’s. Merida never dropped the company’s name in the article, so you shouldn’t either. Let’s not give them any unnecessary attention. We’ll deal with them privately.”

I nodded in agreement. “Trust me, I’m not about to advertise the fact I paid a woman to pretend to be my girlfriend. I think I’ve suffered enough humiliation at this point.”

The interview would likely not delve that deep, so there was no need to needlessly drag Faux’s into the spotlight. Just like Della promised me privacy, I had agreed to the same. That meant I couldn’t go running my mouth about her place. She could turn around and sue me. I didn’t want to give her any way to come after me.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered to Hattie as I stepped out of the car. She gave me a reassuring pat on the back, offering a final pep talk before we entered the studio.

Once inside, the bustling atmosphere of the show’s production team engulfed us. The backstage area was a whirlwind of activity, with crew members scurrying about, adjusting lighting and sound equipment. I couldn’t help but feel like a lamb headed to the slaughter.

Hattie stayed by my side, her presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. She continued to offer words of encouragement and advice, helping me stay focused on the task at hand.

“Remember, Jensen don’t offer any more than what we discussed,” she reminded me. “Just be honest and authentic. People can see through insincerity. You don’t have to give them any additional information, but you need to try and pretend you like them.”

I nodded, taking in her words of wisdom. “You know I would rather eat glass.”

She smiled. “I do, and trust me, I would rather serve you a plate of glass, but here we are.”

I understood the necessity of the stupid interview. This was my chance to address the rumors and misconceptions that had spiraled out of control. We were hoping I would only need to do the one interview. If we could get the message across, I didn’t have to go on a media blitz. That was all the incentive I needed to do a good job the first time.