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I was the last in the car park, unable to risk another bollocking. “I’m sorry, Gemma, I can’t stay.”
“Go,” she said, eyes glistening. “Don’t be a stranger, hey? Call me one day. Let me know you’re ok.”
I didn’t even have an answer for her, just a dull ache in my gut as I left my sweet girl behind.
It hurt like fucking sin.
***
Jason
Caroline Vaughan wasn’t one of those glossy-haired PR executives who float around and talk about charity opportunities. She was a fucking killer. I’d been forced into her company before, around the dogging scandal, and she’d handled the situation brilliantly, even if telling her about it was thoroughly uncomfortable. I’d pay through the nose for this, but I had no choice. She was the best. Her jet black hair was scraped into one of those twisty buns, and she had trendy thick-rimmed glasses that screamed sexy librarian. She was all in black. Black jacket, black blouse, even a black tie. A slash of shocking pink across her lips was the only break in the monochrome. Yes, she was a killer, alright.
She leaned across her walnut desk, handing me a selection of newspapers from the height of the Gemma craziness. “Tell me, Mr Redfern, are these stories true?”
There was little point in lying. “I was having a relationship with Gemma, a sexual relationship, that is. I met her on chatline, and she didn’t even know who I was.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
I wasn’t sure she meant it.
“I like Gemma, a lot, whatever we do here can’t hurt her. Number one priority, non-negotiable. I’ll never sign off on it.”
“Of course, Mr Redfern. We will leave Miss Taylor out of this as much as possible. The focus will be on you and your wife.” She ran me through the proposal. I flinched as she reached the part of the plan where I confessed to having a sex addiction to the press, but she swore blind it was a sound, if uncomfortable manoeuvre. “The public love a flawed hero. They will love you for being human, Mr Redfern, and everyone loves a sex addict, it’s one of the most popular kinds of addiction.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The most popular kind of addiction?”
“That’s right. We grade them. Heroin comes out bottom, as you’d expect. Sex addiction holds intrigue.”
“So, April gets all teary-eyed on a talk show, tells the world how tough marriage is and how hard we’re trying? Then I confess to a sex addiction?”
“In a nutshell. We want the public to feel your pain, enter your healing journey with you. We play this right, Mr Redfern, and your public personas will be stronger than ever. Like I said, everyone loves a flawed hero, but they love a flawed couple even more.” This was crazy and ridiculous, but still I let her speak. “Six months’ time should see a very different landscape. I’m sure you’ll be impressed. I’ve sent our proposal along to your wife’s representatives, I’m sure we’ll be able to co-ordinate timescales if you wish to proceed.”
“This plan, we work it for twelve months and then we have an exit strategy, yes? A way to separate with as little damage as possible to our careers?”
Caroline looked confused, flicking through paperwork. “That isn’t the brief I received through Mrs Redfern’s team.” She handed me a printout. “Three year strategy. It’s clearly stated.”
The horror on my face must have spoken volumes. I felt ashen, broken. “I can’t do that long. I need out.”
“Three years is a sensible timeline, Mr Redfern, especially with your wife’s ambitions for music success. That will take time, the Cherry Electric brand is no longer valuable. If she wishes to be placed on one of the music reality TV panels she will really need a stronger platform.”
My voice was nothing more than a hiss. “I don’t care about her fucking ambitions, or her shitty music. I want half the house, and I want out.”
“You seem to be at cross purposes, I’d recommend you speak it over with her before our next meeting.”
“Fine.” I grabbed my keys, but she took hold of my wrist before I could stand.
“Mr Redfern, may I speak candidly?”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“Gables and I areyourPR consultants, we are here to advise on your wishes, your public brand, with or without the association with your wife.”
“Yes...” I prompted.
“May I ask a question? You are free to answer, or not, as you see fit.” Her voice was clipped and professional, pausing until I gave a definite nod. “Gemma Taylor, do you have feelings for her?”
I debated my answer for a few seconds before I tossed the keys back on the desk top. “I’m in love with Gemma Taylor, Ms Vaughan. Life’s not all that fair in the public eye, is it?”
