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Fixing her eyes, Samantha took a hearty sip of the beverage. “So Ashlyn, you’re the real PR guru here. Tell me what I should do. Because I’ve got about ten different advisors emailing, texting, and calling, courtesy of course, of my father and the pack of suits he employs to keep us all in line. I don’t really want to deal with any of them.”
I waited, tapping my nails against my sangria. I could feel the pressure in the room shift to include me. Liam’s eyes were boring a hole in my head.
“What were you doing there? At the club, I mean,” I asked her noncommittally.
Sam cast a wary glance at her brother. Ian and Liam were making a lot of noise in the kitchen behind us, pretending to not listen.
“I can’t tell you that.” She bit her lip.
“Okay, what can you tell me? Start there.”
“Not much. It was a whimsical moment, but I talked to some of those ladies, and they were lovely and sweet and worked so freaking hard. All for a couple of bucks and some dirty old men to grope them.”
I nodded along. “And the lap dance.”
Sam laughed. “I threw a ton of cash at them for their…help. They said they were required to do something in return, so Demi goofed around on my lap. No hands, no clothing removal, nothing. The photo makes it seem dirty, but we were all laughing and joking around. Actually, Liam, you’ve met Demi. She was the one coming to brunch with me the other day.”
“What are your dad’s people saying?”
“Oh, the usual. Disappear from all campaign work and do a ton of community work, cover my socials with pictures of me holding babies, donating things. You know, the usual ‘I fucked up’ package.” She took a long drink of her sangria.
Damn, girl.I could see the Irish blood now.
I nodded, the sangria a delightful buzz in my ears. I put my glass on the coffee table. “Here’s my advice. Do nothing today. Or tonight. Or while any trace of that sangria is in your system, because that shit is strong.” I pointed at both of our glasses.
Sam nodded, putting her glass on the table as well.
“Then I say screw the fluff package. You didn’t fuck anything up. I say you meet it head on. Put up a cute picture of you and Demi and talk about how you’re allowed to have friends from all walks of life. And then geo-tag that shit and send all kinds of hot, bothered, and loaded rich friends to that strip club. The next time you show up at the club, you’ll be a hero. And the media will like that you owned your ‘oops’ moment and made it your own.”
Sam’s face was perfectly still. That must be a family trait. I bit my lip, again wondering what the hell Ian was putting in those drinks.
“Or at least that’s what I would do if a client came to me with a similar situation.” I felt the heat creep up my neck. And not from the sangria.
Sam lurched across the sofa, grabbing my hands. “I freaking love it! That’s more my style. I don't need to act like the bad kid because I did nothing bad. God, what a relief.”
Liam and Ian resumed talking in the kitchen. Finally, Ian walked in, his dark eyes glued to Sam where she’d flopped back into the cushions.
“I’m going to go grab us some pizza. Unless you want a protein bar or eggs, Liam has nothing real humans would want to eat.”
I could see Liam glaring at his friend and head of security.
“I do just fine.”
I heard a fridge open then close.
A sigh.
I stifled a laugh. Ian wiggled his eyebrows at the two of us.
“Fine, I’m ordering dinner in. What do you guys feel like?”
“Uh, I believe Ian just promised us pizza,” Sam proclaimed from her spot, hands waving in the air for emphasis.
Liam moved close enough I could see his eyes roll.
“Fine. Pizza.”
Moments later, his phone was out and he was on a mission.
