Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (33 page)

“Kaye, let it go,” Samuel whispered, a hand clutching my knee under the table. I shook him off.

“No. I mean, does Samuel’s accountant really need to be here? Or Justin? They could just be given a summary after the meeting.” I felt my face flush to the roots.

The accountant chuckled uncomfortably. “Actually, I’m not sure why I need to be at half these planning meetings. Someone could give me a five-minute re-cap and I’d be good.”

“When we have crises arise at TrilbyJones that’s embarrassing for a client,” I nervously pushed, “we try to make the situation as painless as possible for them. There’s no sense in trotting out their embarrassment to a room full of people. Molly, get my back on this?”

“Kaye, I don’t…” she stuttered over the phone.

Samuel gave my knee a gentle warning squeeze, and Jerome used my distraction to smoothly take back the reins.

“Ms. Trilby, you are new. You don’t comprehend the beast that is our industry, so we will afford you some leeway. Let me explain. If Mr. Cabral wishes to keep his private life private, it takes a team such as this to achieve said privacy. The very definition of ‘celebrity’ is one who is
well-known.
Privacy, my dear, is the price of fame. To assist our clients in navigating the complex media landscape, The Buitre Group has a full-service platform of offerings tailored to—”

“
Platform of offerings?”
I gave a disbelieving laugh. “What, are we sacrificing to Huitzilopochtli now? Sorry, I forgot my headdress.”

That
comment gained the hard glares of the entire room. It wasn’t clear whether they were stunned by my mocking of their buzzwords, or my ability to say Huitzilopochtli.

Samuel rose. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, Ms. Rogers. I’d like to confer with Ms. Trilby outside.”

I followed him like a spanked puppy. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint sounds of copy machines and clacking keyboards. I braced myself for hard words. Instead, as the door swung shut, Samuel cupped my face between his hands, his eyes soft.

“Show-off,” he teased, and brushed his lips against mine. “Crazy, brilliant, show-off.” A woman with a handful of files scooted down the hall and around us, shooting curious glances our way. Samuel waited until she rounded the corner. Then he became serious.

“I love you, Kaye. I appreciate that you want to save me from embarrassment, and I know this mess is uncomfortable for you, too. But, Firecracker, this is the consequence of my screw-ups. And if having my indiscretions flashed on PowerPoint slides is part of my sentence, so be it.” He smoothed his thumbs over my cheekbones then dropped his hands. “Besides, if this book isn’t reined in now, it will only get worse. Those slides will become headlines.”

Stop the book.
That was the reason we were all here, wasn’t it? I reached up and pecked Samuel’s cheek.

“I’ll behave.”

He pulled me into a hug for a long minute before releasing me. “We’d best go back.”

“They’ll be discussing your bipolar disorder next,” I warned. His jaw tightened, and I knew he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

“I know.”

We slid into our seats, hands clenched under the table as we waited for the bold revelation to be broadcast to the entire room: “BIPOLAR DISORDER.”

But it wasn’t brought to light via a presentation slide. Rather, Lexi glossed over his disorder. Maybe she had tact after all, I don’t know. I found it odd that she could so boldly speak about his arrest for drug possession, being busted with another woman by his wife, or “seducing away another man’s fiancée in a misguided attempt to prove a point,” as Togsy had written. But when it came to something that was not his fault, it was taboo.

She closed the presentation and flipped on the light. “As for Mr. Cabral’s
secret
—it’s all guesswork on Togsender’s part, and I think we can pass it off as such. In my literary opinion, and you can quote me on this, Jerome,
BrownStoners
is sensationalistic tripe, more fantasy than fiction, and not worth the paper it’s printed on. Minimalize it.”

“But that’s not accurate,” Samuel murmured.

“You can’t know that until you read the book, Samuel,” I said gently.

“We were destructive and it ruined lives. I know the truth. So do Lyle and Caroline.” He turned to the room. “As for my ‘secret,’ it would be impossible to
minimalize
. I just…” Samuel lowered shamed eyes to the table. “I don’t want my readers to know about it. Any of it.”

Jerome nodded thoughtfully. “Certainly not. Ace, I assume you will accordingly adjust your media sources’ incentives, should the details of this rubbish be leaked to them?”

“I think my firm can arrange it.” Ah, so
that
was it—Caulfield Law Firm was paying off the gossip tabs. This man was the secret weapon Caroline deployed whenever they encroached too closely. Who better to keep Samuel’s personal indiscretions personal than an old-money family with industry clout and one-hundred years-on-the-job training? The longer I sat in this meeting, the more I realized how many complicated layers of secrecy had accumulated to protect Samuel’s image.

“Excellent,” said Jerome. “Continue to comb through the passages and pick low-hanging fruit which would warrant an injunction and potential defamation lawsuit. If that proves difficult, then we’ll extend a monetary offer to Mr. Togsender via Caulfield Law Firm. Quick and easy.” AKA, hush money. “Now, Mr. Cabral. You said you want to keep your, ah, secret…a secret?”

Samuel shrugged, resigned.

Jerome’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, we’ll operate under the assumption that you
do
. We deal with these sorts of things all the time.”

The poor accountant was the only man who looked decidedly confused, and I realized that Samuel’s “secret” must have been discussed at length before we arrived. Figures.

Molly was also confused. “I’m not sure I’m following this discussion. Which secret are we talking about here?”

Samuel opened his mouth to speak, but Lexi cut her off. “There’s a reason it’s a secret, Ms. Jones.”

Now. If there was one thing that made Samuel fume, it was being discounted. He had patience, but it seemed to have reached its limits. His eyes flashed. “No, Molly has a point. Why call it a secret, since it’s so obvious you all are privy to it. Call it what it is—my
illness
.”

Mouths dropped open around the table.

“That’s harsh,” Lexi whispered.

“I haven’t heard it called that since the eighties,” Ace said thoughtfully.

“It’s the truth. I live with this disorder every day of my life, Ms. Rogers, Mr. Buitre. I call it a
disease
, because that’s what it is. What buzzword would you prefer I use?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” she stammered.

“‘Lifestyle choice,’ perhaps? That seems to be the phrase these days,” Ace offered.

“A
choice?”
Samuel threw up his hands in frustration. To my left, Justin stifled a chuckle.

“Have you considered that Samuel could just come out with his disorder and stick it to Lyle Togsender?” I offered Samuel an encouraging smile. “Then he wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.”

Justin’s laughter was now audible.

Jerome frowned. “Well, it certainly has been done before. But I should warn you, Mr. Cabral’s female fan base would be sorely disappointed.”

“Really, Mr. Buitre, I don’t think women are that shallow. That’s an awfully archaic idea.”

“So is calling it a
disorder
, Ms. Trilby.”

“If anything, they’d be supportive!”

“Trust me, my dear, hearts will break.”

Justin slapped the table with his palm, repressed tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Not all hearts.” He snorted. “Some might be pretty damned thrilled.”

Jerome cleared his throat, effectively calling for silence. “Perhaps we should leave this particular decision in Mr. Cabral’s capable hands. If you do decide to come out, though, please give us plenty of advance warning.”

Molly loosed a bark of incredulity through the speakerphone, right about the time comprehension coated me in a bucket of red paint. Oh holy schnikes. They thought he was gay? That’s what this was about?

“There’s a certain unspoken protocol to follow,” Jerome continued. “Statement to
People Magazine—
we can mix it in with the marriages, divorces, and Malawian adoptions, then hope for a feel-good feature. Spot on
The View
, award show acceptance speech when the nominations for
Water Sirens
begin to roll in, et cetera.”

Wow. Caroline was good.
Really
good. Next to me, Samuel’s drumming fingers stilled.

“I’m not gay,” he said plainly.

Jerome flashed him a thumbs up. “Which is exactly how you should say it to the media hounds when they ask, in my opinion.”

Samuel’s eyes widened. “No. I’m really
not
gay. This is pure speculation.”

Expressions around the table ranged from sympathetic to dubious, but not a one—except maybe Justin—believed him.

“I have a girlfriend,” he stammered.

Your ex-wife
, their eyes answered.

“I’m in love with her.”

Which is why you hired her as your publicist. Uh-huh.
Samuel looked to me helplessly. Hey, he didn’t need to convince
me
of his sexual preference. But we very well couldn’t tell a room full of PR execs that Samuel and I once dented a wall, could we?

“I’ve had relationships in the past,” he grumbled.

That didn’t last the blink of an eye and remained relatively sexless, according to…
ah crap. Caroline’s signed affidavits. No wonder these people didn’t believe Samuel. And the public wouldn’t, either, when the book was released. Jerome was right. Samuel’s female fans could spout the typical platitudes—“good for him…so glad he can be himself…I always wondered”—but secretly, part of his appeal, other than his addictive books, was the idea they could screw him silly if given the opportunity. Jaime would be impressed. Heck, we probably
gave
Caroline the idea with our faux-lesbo diner antics. In another life, the floozy could have been my friend.

But, in the midst of this Shakespearean misunderstanding, truth struck: the book never once mentioned Samuel’s bipolar disorder.

I didn’t know what to make of Caroline Ortega. For some reason, she hadn’t told Togsy. Or, if she had, he’d refrained from writing about it.

No bipolar disorder. Dodged a bullet. As for the rest, aside from the potshot at Samuel’s sexual prowess with the female species, everything Lexi’d shared in her PowerPoint was the truth—nothing a little digging wouldn’t turn up. The question was, how
accurate
was Togsy’s truth? For that, I needed the book.

“Samuel’s telling the truth: he’s not gay. Now can we please move on so I can get a copy of this book?”

Jerome’s smile twisted. “Bottom line. In Buitre’s professional opinion, the publication of this book would be detrimental to Mr. Cabral’s career. Ms. Ortega and Mr. Togsender must be stopped.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of contingency plans. But the one thing no one seemed willing to discuss was the possibility of simply opening up about Samuel’s past and letting the public make of it what they will. Buitre was hell-bent on playing Merry Maids. I tried to catch Samuel’s eye, but he clandestinely scribbled away in his Moleskine. I wasn’t sure if he was taking notes or composing poetry.

Finally, we broke for lunch.

“Jerome,” I said, “while I’m thinking about it, I’d like a hard copy of that book this afternoon.”

A look passed between him and Lexi. “I’m afraid I have it under lock and key at the Bertelsmann Building,” she answered. Jerome patted her back and left the room.

“Well, can someone bring it over?”

“It’s Sunday.”

I pursed my lips. What happened to the “expediency is everything” mantra? I searched the room for Samuel and Ace Caulfield, hoping for some backup. They were tucked away in the corner, immersed in a somber conversation. Samuel’s hands vaguely trembled as Ace handed him some sort of brown-wrapped package no bigger than a shoe box. Curious, I watched them for a moment, then turned back to Lexi.

“The book?”

Lexi sighed. “It’ll be two days before I can have a copy made. Even then, I can’t allow it to leave my office.”

“Then I’ll just hole up in your office to read it.” Son-of-a-monkey. Time to seek other paths.

To my frustration, Justin fell in line with Lexi. “Just forget about the book for an hour and come to lunch with us, Kaye.” He grinned. “We’ll hit a sushi place down the street, maybe find Cabral a boyfriend.”