Page 107 of Until You Say Stay
“Hello?” I answer, taking another sip of whiskey.
“There’s another video,” Thomas says immediately. “From Monaco. From that party. Someone leaked it last night and it’s spreading fast online. It shows a bit more than the first video did.”
My stomach drops, that familiar dread crawling up my spine. “How much more?”
“Longer footage from the same party. About ten minutes total.” His voice is clipped, professional, but I can hear the underlying concern. “Shows you arriving, talking to people, having a beer. Talking to everyone who was doing lines. Shows you with Elise.” He pauses deliberately. “Shows you kissing her.”
“Great. That’s just fucking great.” Of course there’s more footage. Of course someone had their phone out recording the whole fucking time, just waiting for the perfect moment to release it for maximum damage. Because nothing in my life can ever just stay buried, can just be over and done with. I take a long drink, the burn doing nothing to calm the anxiety already building. “Have you heard anything from Ferrari yet? Is this messing up the contract?”
“I spoke with Matteo an hour ago,” Thomas says, and I can hear him typing in the background, probably already drafting statements. “They’re not thrilled obviously, but since this is from months ago and you’ve been on exemplary behavior since then, they’re not as worried as they could be. You’ve done everything right: Miami, the social media presence with Lark, staying out of trouble. That goodwill is buying you some leeway right now. It helps that they miss your skill badly enough that I think they’re willing to overlook this as old news.”
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases slightly, but not much. “So we’re okay? Contract’s still looking good?”
“Should be. We’ll put out a statement similar to the one from earlier this year. That this doesn’t change anything, you’ve learned from past mistakes, you’re focused on your career, the standard language. It’ll blow over.” He pauses. “But Jack, you need to stay squeaky clean from here on out. Any more incidents and all this goodwill evaporates. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand,” I say, taking another drink.
“Good. I’ll send you the draft statement to approve before we release it. Keep your head down this week.”
“Will do,” I say, and hang up.
I pull up the video on my phone immediately, needing to see what we’re dealing with. It’s already trending on X, thousands of people weighing in with their opinions about my latest scandal.
The video starts and my stomach sinks lower with each passing second.
It’s not technically wrong. It’s not doctored footage. Everything shown actually happened: I was at that party, I did have a beer, I did talk to people. But itlookslike I was just there having a good time instead of trying to discreetly extract an eighteen-year-old girl from a dangerous situation without causing a scene.
And there’s the kiss.
Elise stumbling toward me, clearly drunk or high or both, throwing herself at me. And for maybe two seconds, two fucking seconds, I kiss her back before my brain catches up and I pull away. Of course the video cuts off right there, doesn’t show me pushing her back gently, doesn’t show me helping her sit down and find her friends.
We’d dated casually for maybe a month two years ago, hooked up at a few parties since when we were both single. She got engaged six months ago and despitemanyflaws, I’m not trying to break up someone’s marriage. But the video doesn’t show any of that context, doesn’t show my reasoning. Justshows me at a party, looking comfortable and relaxed, kissing someone.
Fuck.
A PR nightmare that Thomas and I need to manage carefully. It’s not personal, it’s just damage control and image rehabilitation and all the other corporate bullshit that comes with being in the public eye.
My phone buzzes again. Robert this time.
Robert:Just saw the video circulating. Is this going to affect the contract situation?
I type back quickly, trying to project a confidence I don’t entirely feel.
Me:Thomas says Ferrari’s handling it well. Since it’s old footage and I’ve been on good behavior, they’re not panicking. Should be fine.
Robert:Good. You’re so close, Jack. That’s a huge relief. Keep me updated if things shift.
I stare at that message.You’re so close.
The flight attendant announces we’re about to take off and I need to put my phone in airplane mode. I down the rest of my whiskey and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes.
The only thing I want right now is to be back with Lark. To have her curled up next to me in that cabin in Banff, mountains outside the window, fireplace crackling, nothing else mattering except us. Like we could make this work no matter what. But that feels like it happened in a different lifetime now. Thomas’s words from dinner keep circling back, mixing with my own doubts until I can’t tell which thoughts are mine and which are his.
I tap out a quick text to Lark.
Me:Flying back now. I’ll head over to your apartment once I land.
I stare at the message after I send it, waiting for the typing bubbles to appear. They don’t.
