Page 29 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
“Three months in andBeauty and the Bigotis the talk of talk radio,” Brooks says, smiling at the numbers in front of him. “Marketing wants billboards and buses, and whatever the fuck else they do these days, all around the city.”
“As long as it doesn’t have my face on it, that’s fine by me,” I say, flicking the projections report onto the center of my desk. My head aches and my eyes sting. We’ve been pouring over listener numbers and programming schedules for hours. Since its launch,Beauty and the Bigotis by far our most successful show and is bringing in more advertising dollars than every other segment put together. And while that’s something to be proud of, we’re still trying to find a way to stop listeners from tuning in elsewhere when our flagship show isn’t on air. We can’t afford to keep all of our eggs in one basket. Especially when things are becoming increasingly strained between Ruby and me.
It translates great on air. Our audience loves it when we argue, and the station runs social media polls where the public gets to decide whose point was more valid. Unsurprisingly, Ruby wins most weeks. I’m the bad guy, the supposedbigot.And I’m not sure I like beingthatguy.
See, when the idea was floated, it seemed perfect. Ruby and I shared a chemistry that felt energetic and vivacious. But ever since our confrontation outside her apartment, the energy has turned dark. And I don’t like it. I miss what we were before that night. I miss her. Well, theideaI had of her. The reality of her turned out to be something else entirely.
“That’s actually something they wanted me to broach with you,” Gerry continues, picking up the report I put down. “PR feels that showing you and Casey in the adstogetheris the best way to go.”
“My stance on this is non-negotiable, Gerry,” I say, my eyes moving to look out the window. The idea of going through a photoshoot trying to pretend I’m OK, when every time I’m in the same room as Ruby I feel like a pot about to boil over, just isn’t going to work. It’s hard enough sitting across the desk from her in the studio each day. Being close enough to touch would be…a mistake.
It’s been a little over three months since the night I stood outside her apartment, warring against my attraction with her. A little over three months since I received a metaphorical slap in the face when that door opened and her boyfriend stepped out. And despite the length of time between then and now, I’m still angry with her for hiding the fact she was in a relationship. I don’t play with other men’s toys, and I sure as hell don’t share my own. I feel like all the flirting leading up to that moment was somehow a trap to prove her misguided point—that I was only playing with her feelings to bolster my own ego. That’s something I would never do. And frankly, I’m hurt she’d even think that. Sure, we’d only known each other for a week at the time, but we’d spenthourstogether. How could she not understand my character by that point? I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I thought I’d made that clear. But then, I was wrong about her too.
“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” Brooks says.
“Then why are we even discussing it?”
“Because they suggested you wear a mask to partially obscure your face.”
I turn back and glare at him. “A mask?”
“Like in Phantom of the Opera or something. They think it’ll give the impression of a beast and be really effective given the title of the show.”
“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head as I think about how poorly received that campaign would be within my family. My father lost his mind when I was voted sexiest man alive by some online tabloid. He was so offended that his oldest son had been reduced to a ‘pretty boy for women to drool over’ that he hired some firm to scrub the internet clean of any photo of myself and other family members that wasn’t approved by his public relations department—Wright Media has an image to protect, and he won’t have his oldest son ruining it.We had a massive fight where he threatened to cut me off from the family money, his favorite method of keeping us all in line. “I can’t be in the ad campaign.”
Gerald looks at me for a long moment before letting out a slow breath. “Fine. But the other option is to hire a stand in.”
“A stand in?” I shift my jaw to the side as I shake my head. “No. I don’t want some model taking my place.” I wrestle enough with the idea that when Ruby goes home, it’s to another man. The last thing I need is topayfor some guy to put his hands on her.
“Then what?” Gerald snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You’re the man with all the great ideas. How about you tellmehow we go about this? We need to promote the show. It’s common practice for hosts to do a photoshoot.”
Clamping my jaw tight, I try to envision myself taking part in such a thing. Masked or not, it’s going to invite unnecessary scrutiny and cause tension between my father and me—not to mention creating further trouble with the extra time I’d need to spend around Ruby. But Gerald is right, all the big radio shows have billboard campaigns. And in my previous gigs, I’ve been pulled up over my refusal to do them. Having a stand-in might be the best option.
The idea of a male model even standing close to Ruby sits uncomfortably in my gut, but I squash it down, jump on it until it fits into a too small box.She isn’t mine.
“Set up the photo shoot with Miss Casey and hire a model to take my place,” I say eventually. “They can stand back-to-back so her face is the only one the public can see. It’ll make the casting process easier.” And it’ll mean he’ll have no reason to touch her.
“I’m unclear why you can’t just do that yourself, but if that’s what you want.” Gerald pushes on the arms of his chair to stand up. “You should get that assistant of yours to contact some agencies to send over headshots for your approval.”
“Get an intern to do it. I’m in between assistants at the moment.”
“That’s four in three months. What happened tothisone?”
“Incompetence. Same as the rest.”
“Why don’t you get Casey to hire your next one? She seems to be the only person you can work with without driving away. She might be able to find someone with the same level of fortitude she has.”
“I should point out that you’re also still here, Gerry,” I say, deflecting his comment as I stand and shake his hand to end our meeting.
“Yeah, but I’m a bigger ass than you are.” He releases my hand and turns to leave, just as Ruby bursts into the room without knocking.
“Have you seen Twitter?” she blurts, and I shake my head.
“I’ve been in a meeting.” I gesture to Gerald with my eyes and Ruby’s mouth forms an O.
“You’re finished though, right?” She looks between Gerald and me, and Gerry nods.
“The floor is yours, Miss Casey,” he says, sliding his hands onto his hips while he waits to find out what her excitement is. “Tell us about this Tweety bird thing.”
