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“Like what?”
“The Knicks cheerleaders perform in Central Park before games to sell tickets. Let’s team up with them. We can have an actor spray himself with body spray and have the cheerleaders chase him through Central Park. The new slogan can be…we can’t control what happens when women are around Sword. It takes care of the Layla’s Prediction fiasco too. Don’t take the blame. Blame the awesome product.”
“Interesting spin.”
“It heightens the brand. We can’t hide from what happen. We have to own it. And get the buzz on something else as soon as possible.”
There was silence on the other line. “What agency do you work for again?”
“We’re actually new. So you’ll have our undivided attention.”
“I like what I’ve heard. We’re expecting a few other calls, but how hard would it be to set this up with the cheerleaders?”
“I know a few of them. All I need is the go ahead and I’ll make the calls.”
“I’ll be in touch, Mason.” John hung up the phone.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. I was pretty sure I had him. I tried to think of who I knew on the Knicks squad. At least a third of them probably. I had even introduced a few of them to my other business. I’d call the girl that I ran into at the club the other day first. She was an ex Knicks cheerleader, and I knew she still had a pull with a bunch of the women on the squad. She owed me, so she’d be the perfect person to convince them to do it. This was such a great idea. It would definitely work.
I heard a knock on the front door. That must be Bee.
“Oh fuck.” I stared down at the phone in my hand. I had just told John the first thing that had popped into my head. But it wasn’t my idea. I had read it in Bee’s notebook. I had stolen her fucking idea. “Shit.” I slammed my phone down on my desk. She would have understood me stealing Kruger’s clients. Hell, she probably would have been thrilled that I’d screwed over her boss. But she wasn’t going to understand this. What the hell had I just done?
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Bee
I knocked on the door again. Maybe Mason wasn’t home yet. We usually shared a taxi home from work, but he knew I was getting off late. He had probably gone out with friends or something.
Home. I smiled to myself. His place did feel like home to me, because he was there. On a scale of one to pre Patrick cheating on me? I laughed to myself. There was no comparison. I was in love with Mason Caldwell. And Kendra was right. I needed to give myself more credit. I knew that Mason felt the same. Living in fear wasn’t living. I just needed to tell him how I felt. I needed to tell him I wanted the boyfriend and girlfriend labels.
But not right now. Because he wasn’t home. I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked down at the screen to see if he had texted me. There were five missed calls from Kendra. What the hell? I quickly pressed on her name and put my phone to my ear.
She answered on the first ring. “Oh. My. God.”
“What?”
“Please tell me you’re in front of a T.V.”
“No. What’s going on?”
“Layla’s Prediction’s escalated a little quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Their ratings skyrocketed when she started doing the weather nude. Mr. Ellington called and told them he wanted them to take it further.”
“Further than what?”
“They had sex on live T.V. It was a freaking porno.”
“Who had sex?”
“The random guy whose cock she measured wrong.”
“And they kept filming? How could they air…”
“They can air whatever they want. The FCC wasn’t going to stop them. There is no FCC.”
