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“What do you mean Lisa’s other efforts?” I shake his hand slowly as my assistant Abigail’s voice breaks through the intercom.
“Sir, Lisa Wade is here for your meeting.”
“I’m sure she’ll explain.” He smiles and exits, Nelson right behind him as Lisa enters my office.
“You look so happy to see me,” she says in her usual dry delivery. “You didn’t forget about our meeting, did you?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t forget but I expected to see your publicist, or should I say handler, since she’s the one who is usually checking in with me these last few weeks.”
Lisa ignores my remark, her thin lips painted their trademark red to match her nails. “I expected Becky to take this meeting as well but unfortunately she quit. Her husband got offered his dream job in San Francisco, so I am scrambling to do her work and run my firm.”
“Shit,” I mutter, “I’m sorry. Seems we’re both under some serious stress.”
“Well, I’m afraid I’m probably going to be adding to it.” She gives me a hollow smile. “There’s an upcoming charity event that has requested that you be the keynote speaker.”
“Can’t I just write a check?”
“You can and will, but you also need to attend, mingle, and actually act like you care,” she says flatly.
That stings.
“I do care, Lisa.” I sit up. “Is that the image that’s out there of me? That I don’t care about people in need?”
“I’d be lying if I said that isn’t a common thread that runs through different groups. Look—” She closes her tablet and leans her elbows on her knee that’s crossed over the other. “I know you care; don’t forget I knew you back before all this. I know that you put on this facade because it’s easier to just pretend to be the person everyone already assumes you are, the person that they’ve already judged based usually on misinformation. But the reality is, Cyrus, you can easily show them you care, show them that there’s more to you than scandals and underhanded bullshit. You might have been that young man in the past, but you’re not him anymore, so why not just let the world see who you really are?”
I think about her words, images of my father coming back to me. Of him trying to make everyone happy while losing himself in the process. No matter what he did, no matter how much he cared or who he helped, some group somewhere hated him for it.
“I know you’re right. It is easier to just let everyone form their own opinion based on rumors or a picture they saw because trying to convince them you’re not the same twenty-five-year-old who lived to party and didn’t care about anything but himself is damn hard. The reality is I care about people in need, in causes, but I don’t give a damn about people’s opinions of me. I refuse to be just another schmuck who does performative shit in the name of looking good.”
“Tell you what, think about it. Actually, send me over a list of the organizations or charities that you currently donate to or are on the board of and let’s see what we can do to get you more involved with them… instead of just writing a check. And before you tell me that people will just think you’re doing it for show, let me worry about that. Figure out what would make you happy, Cyrus, because apart from this deal with Meridian, it couldn’t hurt for you to clean up your image and just be genuine. Maybe think about actually finding a nice woman and settling down? Stop hiding behind that old silly bad boy billionaire moniker; it’s tired.”
“Haven’t you heard though? I’ve got a new one; I’m a living heart donor apparently.”
She rolls her eyes and gathers up her things. “If you want the world to think you’re heartless, there’s not much I can do to help you, Cyrus, so I’d suggest you stop reading up on other people’s opinions of you, you know… since you don’t care. There’s a good man in there; you just need to let him out.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” I squeeze her shoulder as I walk her to the door. “I know I’m not making things easy for you, but you know why I struggle with all this; you know my past.”
“Just keep behaving. Meanwhile, I’m going to attempt to not lose my mind as I try to find another publicist before I have a meltdown.”
“Good luck.” I shut the door behind her, Presley’s name popping into my head as a potential candidate she could hire. It would be a long shot and probably a conflict of interest but she’s bright and opinionated, just the kind of young woman who would thrive at Lisa’s firm.
I check my watch, noting I have fifteen minutes before my next meeting. I take the time to sit on a couch in the far corner of my office, leaning back and closing my eyes to think about Lisa’s comments.
The reality is, I’m not the same man I once was. I do have regret for briefly dating Nikki Frisk. The fact was, she was engaging and smart and I didn’t pursue her. She reached out to me for advice about her assets in the divorce and we hit it off. She had led to me believe that she and Peter had been separated and were in the middle of a divorce. The fact that those same rumors plagued the tabloids only solidified her claims. Had I known that wasn’t the case, I never would have looked twice at her. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking home-wrecker. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I tried to defend myself and tell people that she lied to me; they already believed that I did it to twist the knife a little deeper into Peter Frisk after I had recently and very publicly walked away from a very lucrative opportunity to partner with him.
Like I said, there’s a lot of shit out there about me that isn’t too great, some I’m not proud of, but I won’t get into bed financially with a corrupt asshole who’s been known to profit off wartime weapon agreements. The world likes to paint me as the Machiavellian villain and yeah, I might play into it, but the reality is, I do have morals.
Part of me thinks that Peter Frisk was in on the whole thing with Nikki in some elaborate scheme to smear my name even further and tank this deal with Meridian.
My eyes pop open, my attempt to think through my own emotions only making me more stressed out and now very clearly paranoid. I stand, straightening my tie, and walk over to my desk to prepare for my next meeting.
I open my drawer and see Lisa’s business card still sitting in it. I reach for it, then hesitate, only to reach for it again. This time I pick it up and slide it into my wallet.
* * *
“Shit, are you serious? When?”
I stop suddenly when I round the corner of the long hallway where my classroom is located. Presley’s friend—her name slipping my mind—has her hand on her shoulder as they slowly walk in front of me.
