Page 59 of The Best Men
“Right,” I say heavily. “Thanks for that timely update.”
“There is no need for snark,” she says crisply. “You rarely make appointments this early in the day, so I didn’t check.”
Mark gives a little snort from his side of the car, but I ignore him.
“Anything else?”
“There’s something on the Twitter I thought you should see.”
“Okay, something good? Are you monitoring the Commando hashtag? I think the new campaign went live at midnight.” I’d meant to look at this myself this morning.
But a sexy banker distracted me.
“Well . . . you know I don’t look at the Twitter all that often. So I can’t really say. But it’s on that trendy board.”
“Trending?” I guess.
“Right. Just like I said. The brand is trending together with hashtag eggplant. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Eggplant . . .” I say slowly. That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. “Okay, Lucy. Thanks. I’ll check it out.”
She rings off. But of course I’m sitting in Miami traffic. “Mark, would you mind . . .”
“On it,” he says, tapping his phone. A moment later, he chuckles. “It is trending with the eggplant emoji. I’m afraid to ask why.”
“Not as afraid as I am,” I mutter. “Is there a link?”
“Um, yup. Hang on.”
The car inches forward, and the silence from the passenger seat is worrying. Then Mark makes a strangled noise. “Well, hello toyou,sir. That’s an impressive bulge.”
“Isn’t that the point of a Commando?”
“Well, this isn’t how I wear mine.” He waits until I stop at yet another red light, and then he turns the phone to face me. My lungs seize up in horror. It’s a well-lit, well-composed shot of one of the hockey players who’d modeled the tight-fitting bathing suits.
But he’s sporting a comically oversized erection.
“I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself a size queen,” Mark says. “But you can’t help but stare.”
“That was . . . it’s . . . shit! That was ajoke,” I sputter. “The guy put his water bottle down there while we were warming up on the set. I took a pic to amuse him.”
I poke the console where my connection to Lucy is still onscreen. And I seethe while it rings.
This could cost me business. People have no sense of humor when their brand becomes a punchline on Twitter.
“Lucy!” I shout when the connection is made. “You uploaded the wrong folder! There’s a pornographic shot in there somehow. Find the real shot of the suit in peacock blue and get it over to them right away. We have to fix this.”
“You know, I did think that one was a little over the top,” she muses. “But peacockblue...”
“Please,” I beg. “Fix this. And then we’ll work on my apology.”
“Of course, Asher. I’ll call them to say that the best file is coming.”
“And was there any word from FLI?”
“None.”
Of course there wasn’t. Who’d hire a hot mess like me? “Thank you. Text me when this is fixed.”
