already gathered there—Sherman, Hoss, Steve, and Matt Perkins. Brie was there, too, perched on the windowsill.
“We’ve had two calls from reporters since I spoke to you,” Levin said grimly to Lake as she sat down. “The Daily News and Channel 7.”
“We should have seen something like this coming,” Sherman said. “You pick someone flashy and this is what happens, isn’t it?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Dan,” Levin said. “The fact that he was a good-looking guy doesn’t mean we should have expected he’d end up murdered.”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Sherman said. “We finally decide to get serious about marketing and we end up with a mess like this.”
“It doesn’t have to turn into a mess for you,” Lake interjected. “But you do have to do some damage control.”
“ Damage control?” Brie asked curtly. “You make it sound as if we’ve done something wrong.”
“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Lake said. “This is an external situation beyond your control, but it has the potential to impact your business. I know a PR person who specializes in crisis management. I’d suggest bringing her onboard briefly. She—”
“But isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing?” Brie said. “PR?”
“Please, Brie, let her finish,” Levin said. Brie straightened her back, looking irritated.
“I’ve got a PR person on retainer as part of the marketing plan,” Lake said, “but she’s not an expert at handling a crisis, and neither am I. You need a real pro here. The woman I’m suggesting doesn’t come cheap, but I highly recommend that you hire her.”
“I think it’s essential,” Hoss said. “We don’t have a choice.”
It was agreed that Lake would make the call. After that, there was thirty more minutes of anxious talk—about dealing with patient questions, upsets to the schedule, and just getting through the next few days. Levin and Hoss dominated the discussion, while Sherman mostly shook his head in disgust. Steve and Matt Perkins looked shell-shocked and spoke up only when they were asked specific questions. Finally, Levin suggested that everyone go home and try their best to relax.
“I also recommend that you not discuss this with anyone outside your immediate families,” Lake added.
Everyone streamed out of the office, and as Lake followed them to the door, Levin called to her.
“Do you think this woman can really help?” he asked, rising from the desk.
“Absolutely,” Lake said. “She’s handled situations far worse.”
He crossed the room, buttoning his jacket. She saw him glance at the file in her hands.
“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.
“From the file drawer in the storage room—I’ve been reading all the clippings.”
“Well, that’s not one you need,” he said, grabbing the file from her hand.
6
IT WAS JUST before six when Lake finally arrived home. Following the awkward encounter with Levin, she’d returned to the small conference room and left a message for Hayden Culbreth, the crisis guru she’d recommended. Then, totally spent, she’d packed up and hailed a cab for the West Side.
After tossing down her bags, she sank into one of the arm-chairs in her living room. She began to sob. Sensing something was wrong, Smokey leapt into her lap. As he nuzzled her chin, Lake stroked him and blinked back tears. Her eyes swept the living room, with its comforting shelves of books and pretty landscape paintings. What she’d told Molly and Keaton was true. Though the past week or so of her life could hardly be described as blissful, she had started to feel at peace again and hopeful about her future. But that all changed in an instant. Everything in her life was in jeopardy now—her kids, her work, her future. She’d given in to a desperate hunger for approval and connection—and to her own rawdesire—and because of that she might end up losing custody of her kids. There was even a chance she’d be arrested for
“We’ve had two calls from reporters since I spoke to you,” Levin said grimly to Lake as she sat down. “The Daily News and Channel 7.”
“We should have seen something like this coming,” Sherman said. “You pick someone flashy and this is what happens, isn’t it?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Dan,” Levin said. “The fact that he was a good-looking guy doesn’t mean we should have expected he’d end up murdered.”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Sherman said. “We finally decide to get serious about marketing and we end up with a mess like this.”
“It doesn’t have to turn into a mess for you,” Lake interjected. “But you do have to do some damage control.”
“ Damage control?” Brie asked curtly. “You make it sound as if we’ve done something wrong.”
“That’s not at all what I’m saying,” Lake said. “This is an external situation beyond your control, but it has the potential to impact your business. I know a PR person who specializes in crisis management. I’d suggest bringing her onboard briefly. She—”
“But isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing?” Brie said. “PR?”
“Please, Brie, let her finish,” Levin said. Brie straightened her back, looking irritated.
“I’ve got a PR person on retainer as part of the marketing plan,” Lake said, “but she’s not an expert at handling a crisis, and neither am I. You need a real pro here. The woman I’m suggesting doesn’t come cheap, but I highly recommend that you hire her.”
“I think it’s essential,” Hoss said. “We don’t have a choice.”
It was agreed that Lake would make the call. After that, there was thirty more minutes of anxious talk—about dealing with patient questions, upsets to the schedule, and just getting through the next few days. Levin and Hoss dominated the discussion, while Sherman mostly shook his head in disgust. Steve and Matt Perkins looked shell-shocked and spoke up only when they were asked specific questions. Finally, Levin suggested that everyone go home and try their best to relax.
“I also recommend that you not discuss this with anyone outside your immediate families,” Lake added.
Everyone streamed out of the office, and as Lake followed them to the door, Levin called to her.
“Do you think this woman can really help?” he asked, rising from the desk.
“Absolutely,” Lake said. “She’s handled situations far worse.”
He crossed the room, buttoning his jacket. She saw him glance at the file in her hands.
“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.
“From the file drawer in the storage room—I’ve been reading all the clippings.”
“Well, that’s not one you need,” he said, grabbing the file from her hand.
6
IT WAS JUST before six when Lake finally arrived home. Following the awkward encounter with Levin, she’d returned to the small conference room and left a message for Hayden Culbreth, the crisis guru she’d recommended. Then, totally spent, she’d packed up and hailed a cab for the West Side.
After tossing down her bags, she sank into one of the arm-chairs in her living room. She began to sob. Sensing something was wrong, Smokey leapt into her lap. As he nuzzled her chin, Lake stroked him and blinked back tears. Her eyes swept the living room, with its comforting shelves of books and pretty landscape paintings. What she’d told Molly and Keaton was true. Though the past week or so of her life could hardly be described as blissful, she had started to feel at peace again and hopeful about her future. But that all changed in an instant. Everything in her life was in jeopardy now—her kids, her work, her future. She’d given in to a desperate hunger for approval and connection—and to her own rawdesire—and because of that she might end up losing custody of her kids. There was even a chance she’d be arrested for
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