And she wasn’t above spinning the story, either. Whatever it took. She never would’ve made it as a lawyer, bound by all the rules and ethics. She was more of a rule bender than follower, an imperative strategy if they wanted to win in the court of public opinion.
The only court that mattered.
Viv paused the tape and zoomed in.
Was that a tattoo on his hip?
Jarod’s jeans hung around his ankles, but she could only get a view of the black spot on his right side when he pulled away from Video Girl. And it was never long enough for a decent look. Damn. Though her skin was unmarked, Viv had an unhealthy obsession with ink. Particularly on hot, strapping men.
She pulled up her laptop and opened Jarod’s file. It was going to take more than this sex show to see exactly what she was dealing with. Not that she really had a choice in the matter. Her boss simply emailed the file on the way out of the office and said, “Read up. Your new client will be here in the morning.”
That was Miranda Wells—president of Elite Public Relations’ Atlanta Group and world-class spin doctor. With one of the most impressive track records in the industry, Elite PR managed clients in major business, sports, and entertainment hubs around the world. The majority of the Atlanta Group’s roster came from the Nashville music scene, Southern athletes, and actors. Miranda knew them all, and she was one woman you never wanted to piss off.
Viv knew that firsthand, which is why she’d hit this case hard to ensure she was more than prepared for her new assignment. Even if tomorrow was the day before the Fourth of July and technically a company holiday.
Who needed picnics and fireworks, anyway?
Viv didn’t work sixty hours a week and move every eight to twelve months for the fun of it. She was there to learn. Recruited right out of college for Elite’s executive track, she had worked stints in the Chicago, Philly, and DC offices before Atlanta. Her goal was to make it to the New York office by the time she was twenty-five, and then start planting some roots. That was the dream. Until then, everything else was just temporary.
But thanks to Miranda, she was already a year off schedule. Viv celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday last week…and it wasn’t anywhere near the Big Apple. The timing of her next move was at her boss’s discretion, and so far Miranda had rejected three of her transfer requests. “You’re not ready,” she’d said each time.
So Viv would do her job and repair the reputation of this latest exhibitionist. What was it with celebrities anyway? If she had a dollar for every sex scandal that came through Elite’s doors…
Viv clicked through the notes and files of this latest PR nightmare, which included some very serious threats from Jarod’s sponsor—the squeaky clean Saturn Corp. It was apparent that the leading American manufacturer of confectionery was not at all impressed by these recent events. As it turned out, chocolate and T-and-A didn’t mix.
Thing was, if Jarod lost his sponsor, he would also lose his place on the NASCAR circuit and millions of dollars in endorsements. This was a career-defining moment for the driver. And if Viv played it right, she could restore Mr. Cage’s image, protect his livelihood, and watch him win whatever it is that you win in racing.
Then she’d be a shoo-in for the New York transfer.
She made a quick detour to search for more information about Jarod’s profession. What was it called anyway? A club? Pastime? Activity?
According to Wiki, NASCAR is a sport. Second only to the NFL in TV ratings, it held some major world attendance titles in sporting events. No wonder the sponsors were worried. The public had serious power in the racing world.
This wasn’t going to be easy. Music, business, even baseball or football, were all in Viv’s wheelhouse. But NASCAR? Let’s be serious. She simply couldn’t comprehend why anyone would think it was a challenge to drive around in circles all day. Or why people would pay to watch.
Didn’t matter. This assignment was a chance to get back on track—see, she was already acclimating—but only if she did everything perfectly.
Eye on the prize.
She organized her paperwork and electronics, creating a makeshift office on her plush king-size bed. Viv loved working in her bedroom—a space that took up the entire top floor in her swanky loft. Soft blue tones covered the walls and seemed to soothe her after the long and grueling hours she spent in the downtown office. It was a cozy nest: a four-poster bed, floral prints, and an oversize puffy chaise. A stark contrast to the main floor, which looked more like a model home with the sleek furniture and modern art. There wasn’t a hint of anything personal to be found. Viv rented the place fully furnished—except for the bedroom—and hadn’t made one change to the place. She never did.