Page 34 of Flipping the Script
"The photos," Carmen interjected, pulling up images on her camera's display screen. "I have shots of Tasha staging intimate moments with at least four different people over the past eighteen months. She'd set up the scene, get someone to take multiple angles, then post the most 'spontaneous' looking one later."
Diego leaned forward, his professional instincts clearly engaged. "You're describing a systematic pattern of exploitation. Using intimate relationships as content creation."
"Exactly." Quinn set down her pen, looking between Diego and Carmen. "We're not asking for a defense piece or a puff article. Instead, we're orchestrating a series of strategic leaks – not about Tasha directly, but about the production'scommitment to authentic storytelling, about Solen's dedication to her craft, about Quinn's creative vision for empowering female narratives. We're launching a 'sneak peek' social media campaign showcasing the genuine chemistry betweenQuinn and Solenon set. We're even lining up an exclusive, in-depth interview for Solen that will shift the conversation from her past relationships to her future projects, subtly highlighting her maturity and focus. While we manage the immediate fallout from Tasha, we also need you to investigate the larger issue at play. Tasha is just the most obvious example of a systemic problem."
"What's your timeline?" Carmen asked, already mentally calculating shot compositions. "When are you planning to go public with this?"
Quinn and Solen exchanged glances, the weight of tomorrow's awards ceremony settling between them like a challenge.
"The Golden Horizon Awards," Solen said quietly. "We use the platform to talk about authentic partnership instead of defending ourselves against manufactured scandal."
Diego's pen stopped moving. "That's either brilliant or career suicide."
"Both," Quinn admitted. "But we're not interested in playing it safe anymore."
The afternoon disappeared into strategic planning, laptops and phones covering every surface of Quinn's dining table as they built their case with methodical precision. Quinn handled timeline verification and documentation while Solen managed the emotional narrative components, their different skills creating a comprehensive approach neither could have achieved alone.
Iris arrived at three o'clock with legal documents and publicity strategy folders, her usual composed exterior barely concealing what Quinn now recognized as protective concern.
"I've reviewed your counter-attack plan," Iris said, spreading contracts across Quinn's kitchen counter. "Legally, you're on solid ground. Ethically, you're taking the high road. Strategically..." She paused, her dark eyes serious. "Using the Golden Horizon ceremony as your platform will either vindicate you completely or destroy your careers if it backfires."
"What's our success rate?" Quinn asked, falling back on statistical analysis when emotional stakes felt overwhelming.
"Depends entirely on execution. Public confession of fake relationship followed by declaration of authentic feelings?" Iris pulled out her phone, scrolling through preliminary social media responses. "It's unprecedented. Could be seen as refreshingly honest or catastrophically naive."
Solen stood up from the dining table, stretching muscles that had been hunched over laptops for hours. "What if we don't focus on defending against Tasha's accusations at all? What if we just talk about what authentic partnership looks like?"
"Meaning?" Diego looked up from his notes.
"Meaning we tell our real story. How we started as a publicity arrangement and found something genuine. How we learned to combine our different approaches to creativity. How being together makes us both better at our work and braver in our lives."
Quinn felt her notebook fall still in her hands. The approach Solen suggested required a level of public vulnerability she'd never attempted, never even considered possible. But looking around her apartment—transformed into a collaboration space, filled with people working to protect their relationship—she realized something had shifted in her fundamental understanding of control.
"That's terrifying," she said honestly.
"Terrified is different from impossible." Solen moved behind Quinn's chair, resting her hands on Quinn's shoulders. "We don't have to defend against every accusation if we're too busy building something real."
As evening settled over the city, Quinn and Solen practiced potential interview responses in the living room while Diego and Carmen packed up their equipment. The role reversal felt natural now—Solen helping Quinn sound more conversational and authentic, while Quinn helped Solen stay focused on key message points.
"Remember," Quinn said, adjusting an imaginary tie because her nerves needed somewhere to go, "if they ask about timeline inconsistencies?—"
"I acknowledge that our relationship evolved from professional to personal, and that growth takes time to recognize and announce publicly." Solen's response sounded practiced but genuine. "Your turn. If they ask whether you regret the entire arrangement?"
Quinn took a breath, feeling the truth settle in her chest like a compass finding magnetic north. "I regret that it took a publicity stunt for me to meet the most important person in my life. But I don't regret a single day since."
The words came out steady and certain, surprising them both with their lack of qualification or analysis.
Later, after Diego and Carmen had left with promises to have their investigative piece ready within days, Quinn and Solen stood together on the apartment balcony, hands intertwined as they looked out at the city lights spreading toward the horizon.
"Tomorrow changes everything," Solen said quietly, her thumb tracing patterns across Quinn's knuckles.
"Tomorrow makes everything public." Quinn squeezed Solen's hand, feeling the brass compass necklace catch the light."But what we've built here, in private, with just us figuring it out together—that's already real."
They stood in comfortable silence, both acknowledging that the Golden Horizon Awards ceremony would either cement their relationship's foundation or force them to rebuild everything from scratch. But something had shifted during the day of strategic planning and honest conversation. The thought of facing public scrutiny still terrified Quinn, but the thought of facing it alone seemed impossible now.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," Solen said, bringing their joined hands up to kiss Quinn's knuckles, "we figure it out together."
Quinn nodded, watching the city lights blur slightly through unexpected tears. For someone who'd spent her entire career crafting other people's love stories, she was finally ready to risk writing her own.
