know.”
Lucy continued to grin like a fool, as Micah sat back in his leather chair, a fork, prong side up, grasped firmly in his hands. He took his green napkin and tossed it on to the table. He looked as if he was going to bolt out of the room at any second.
This was Lucy’s time to shine. “We can stop this,” she said insistently. She looked at both Micah and Chris, as they glared at one another, each more annoyed than the other. She continued, “I know who it was, actually. We do not have to play games here. Micah, your story is everywhere. You could not expect me to come here today without putting in the time and effort to read and research my potential client. I’d be a sorry excuse for a salesperson if I had not come prepared to talk about this.”
Before Micah or Chris could speak, she raised her hand to stop them from going any further. Using her other free arm, she reached into her red leather bag and handed Micah a shiny black folder with his name written in gold on the top tab. Inside were hundreds of clippings and printouts from newspapers and blogs. It was practically every piece of media he had ever gotten in his career from the very beginning up until yesterday. On the top of the pile was the image that had haunted him for the last few days. Micah narrowed his eyes to the picture of him embracing Alice, as he quickly shut the folder’s top, hoping that it would all just magically disappear.
He turned to her as he tossed the folder back onto her empty china plate, nearly missing hitting the remains of her pale orange mimosa. “What is this? Is this some joke? My personal life is not something to be spun. It’s my personal life.”
Lucy let out a small laugh. Nearly every one of her clients said the same thing in the beginning. She laid it out for him and said, “I would hope you would be smarter than that. It’s not just your personal life. You and her both have to come to terms with this. If you try to hide it, which I suspect you did given this embrace and sudden media attention it got you, the press will find out, and they'll make you pay if they suspect you lied. On the other hand, if you talk too much about it and let it become your story, you’ll always be known as the man who would rather play someone’s whipped boyfriend than hear him be called a victor at the end of a bloody fight. Obviously, neither is the correct solution.”
Micah could only think of one response for her, “Her name is Alice.”
Chris leaped in, trying to keep the conversation focused on Lucy’s point, “So, in your expert opinion, what is the solution for this…” He had clearly wanted to end his question with the word mess, but he backed down. Instead, he chose, “situation.”
“Here is what I tell all of my clients, both married, dating, and single: Relationships are boring. While you may be riding high on a wave of attention for your fifteen minutes of fame, as soon as that girl, uh Alice, becomes just a part of your routine, she's not interesting anymore. Instead, they'll try to tear it down, bit by bit. They’ll look for ways to claim you are cheating, abusing, lying, et cetera.”
Micah was frankly horrified to hear it, but he still understood. This was part of the role he played. He and now Alice were at the mercy of the press. This is what would come when he chose to provide for her first. “I obviously do not want that. I plan on making this relationship a very long term thing. How do I keep them preoccupied?”
“You give them something else to talk about. You play them right back. You go back to being Micah the bad boy or Micah the rebel. You banish Micah the lovesick doll from their thoughts.” Lucy reached into her bag and pulled out a second black folder with his name on it. This one was smaller and lighter. She placed it in Micah’s lap.
He refused to look inside. “What about Alice?” he asked. “Does she just stay behind? I don’t
Lucy continued to grin like a fool, as Micah sat back in his leather chair, a fork, prong side up, grasped firmly in his hands. He took his green napkin and tossed it on to the table. He looked as if he was going to bolt out of the room at any second.
This was Lucy’s time to shine. “We can stop this,” she said insistently. She looked at both Micah and Chris, as they glared at one another, each more annoyed than the other. She continued, “I know who it was, actually. We do not have to play games here. Micah, your story is everywhere. You could not expect me to come here today without putting in the time and effort to read and research my potential client. I’d be a sorry excuse for a salesperson if I had not come prepared to talk about this.”
Before Micah or Chris could speak, she raised her hand to stop them from going any further. Using her other free arm, she reached into her red leather bag and handed Micah a shiny black folder with his name written in gold on the top tab. Inside were hundreds of clippings and printouts from newspapers and blogs. It was practically every piece of media he had ever gotten in his career from the very beginning up until yesterday. On the top of the pile was the image that had haunted him for the last few days. Micah narrowed his eyes to the picture of him embracing Alice, as he quickly shut the folder’s top, hoping that it would all just magically disappear.
He turned to her as he tossed the folder back onto her empty china plate, nearly missing hitting the remains of her pale orange mimosa. “What is this? Is this some joke? My personal life is not something to be spun. It’s my personal life.”
Lucy let out a small laugh. Nearly every one of her clients said the same thing in the beginning. She laid it out for him and said, “I would hope you would be smarter than that. It’s not just your personal life. You and her both have to come to terms with this. If you try to hide it, which I suspect you did given this embrace and sudden media attention it got you, the press will find out, and they'll make you pay if they suspect you lied. On the other hand, if you talk too much about it and let it become your story, you’ll always be known as the man who would rather play someone’s whipped boyfriend than hear him be called a victor at the end of a bloody fight. Obviously, neither is the correct solution.”
Micah could only think of one response for her, “Her name is Alice.”
Chris leaped in, trying to keep the conversation focused on Lucy’s point, “So, in your expert opinion, what is the solution for this…” He had clearly wanted to end his question with the word mess, but he backed down. Instead, he chose, “situation.”
“Here is what I tell all of my clients, both married, dating, and single: Relationships are boring. While you may be riding high on a wave of attention for your fifteen minutes of fame, as soon as that girl, uh Alice, becomes just a part of your routine, she's not interesting anymore. Instead, they'll try to tear it down, bit by bit. They’ll look for ways to claim you are cheating, abusing, lying, et cetera.”
Micah was frankly horrified to hear it, but he still understood. This was part of the role he played. He and now Alice were at the mercy of the press. This is what would come when he chose to provide for her first. “I obviously do not want that. I plan on making this relationship a very long term thing. How do I keep them preoccupied?”
“You give them something else to talk about. You play them right back. You go back to being Micah the bad boy or Micah the rebel. You banish Micah the lovesick doll from their thoughts.” Lucy reached into her bag and pulled out a second black folder with his name on it. This one was smaller and lighter. She placed it in Micah’s lap.
He refused to look inside. “What about Alice?” he asked. “Does she just stay behind? I don’t
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