Mind the Line

  JENNIFER DOMENICO

  © 2019 Jennifer Domenico

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1 Avery

  Fired! I read the headline on the front page of Variety magazine for about the thousandth time while downing my fifth scotch. My fate is blasted on every industry publication available. I’m ruined. Un-hirable, said one article. Not one person wants to hear my side of the story. No one’s interested in the verbal abuse I endured for the last eighteen months, or how impossible a task I was given. No one cares that I took the most difficult diva in Hollywood and made people like her. The three solid years of good work I did before her doesn’t matter either. Nope. Atlanta Page says I’m incompetent, so I’m incompetent.

  I empty my glass and sigh at the sound of clinking ice cubes. Getting drunk won’t solve anything, but it doesn’t suck either. I’ll deal with my problems tomorrow. Or maybe next week. Leaning back on the couch, I cross my arms over my chest. I wonder how long I can get by with my savings until I can convince another client to take me on. Grabbing my phone off the coffee table, I quickly check my bank balance, groaning when I see the number. I’d say two months at best. Fuck. Mother fucking fuck.

  Reaching for the remote, I flip the TV on and check what’s on the entertainment channel, then scrunch my nose when I see Atlanta’s Botoxed, face-lifted, tight-skinned smile. The public thinks she’s so great, now that I fixed her image, but I know the truth. I know she’s mean to her inner circle, demeaning, rude. I know she drinks too much, smokes too much, and gives new meaning to the term cougar. I know that her last boy toy wasn’t even twenty-one yet. I know this because I’m the one who had to field the questions. I’m the one who explained he was a platonic friend, who just happened to be smoking hot and thirty years younger than her, and not her pathetic attempt to think she’s still young and desirable. I know how she despises every important person in Hollywood, and I can’t say shit because of my stupid NDA. I know the truth. She’s nothing but a hateful bitch.

  The next headline is of course about me. Any time her name is said for the next few months, mine will come close behind it. Avery Michelle Kennedy, stand out publicist to the stars, falls from grace. I didn’t fall from grace, I was kicked. How fickle Hollywood is. How conveniently everyone forgets how valuable I am. Where are the people rushing to my defense after I saved their careers? Where’s Jon Louis? After being caught talking to underage girls online, it only took me three months to erase the pedophile image. Or Danny Kacey, married to supermodel Lacy, but banging male prostitutes on Hollywood Boulevard every Saturday night. Nearly took his film career down with him, but with some swift thinking on my end, a stint in rehab, and a public groveling, he’s back on top, and still married to Lacy, I might add. Where the fuck is he right now? Not taking my calls, that’s where. Or Destiny Cane, popstar de jour with a penchant for too much booze, illicit drugs, oh and that nasty little habit of cheating on every famous celebrity she dates. Branded a whore, her record sales plummeted. Dumped by her record company, and desperate for a comeback, she begged me, literally fucking begged me to help her. Within a year, she had a new label, a cleaned up image, and a chart topping album. But has she stepped up and defended my honor? Nope. She’s touring in Europe and can’t seem to figure out how to return a call from there. Now that I’m on the wrong end of the scandal there’s not a soul willing to help me. What this publicist needs, is a publicist.

  Flipping the TV off, I stand, stumble to the kitchen, and pour another drink I don’t need, but at this point, I don’t have anything else to focus on.

  After making my way back to the living room, I stare outside as rain falls in Los Angeles. It’s fucking cold, dreary, and miserable, basically the same adjectives I could use to describe my current status. How am I gonna reboot my career? Who’s gonna take me on with all the shit Atlanta said about me? How am I gonna fix this?

  The sound of my ringing phone shocks me, causing me to jump, since it hasn’t made a peep in the two weeks since I was canned, but I smile when I see my sister’s number.

  “Top of the morning to ya, Annabelle,” I answer, then laugh when I notice my words are slurred.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Yep. You aren’t?”

  “No, I’m not, but why are you? It’s what, ten AM there?”

  “Ish. What difference does it make? I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “For god’s sake, Avery. Is this your plan for getting your life back together?”

  “So far, yes. It’s going great.”

  “Is it? What leads do you have so far?”

  I lift my hand and count my fingers, then twist my lips. “Exactly none.” I start to laugh knowing my extremely conservative twin won’t approve of my behavior.

  “Listen to me, Avery, you can’t go on like this and you know it. I won’t let you go down that path.”

  “What are you gonna do about it all the way in England?”

  “Why don’t you come for a visit? We can hang out and do sisterly things.”

  My eyes shift to the only picture I still have of us sitting on top of my rented credenza. We looked so happy standing in front of that Disneyland sign, reflecting perfectly matched smiles. “Sisterly things?”

  “Yes. I’d really like to spend some time with you. It’ll be good for both of us.”

  I consider her suggestion for a moment. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her. Once she met David and moved to England, in-person visits are few and far between. I do miss her, but I hate how she always lectures me on my life. I was finally doing well for myself, and then this happened, leaving me right at the bottom again.

  “I’ll come if you promise not to make me feel bad.”

  “I promise.”

  “And if you promise not to act like you’re mom.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “And if you try not to remind me how you’re the better twin.”

  “I don’t even think that.”

  “Promise.”

  She sighs. “I promise, Avery.”

  “Okay then. I’ll come.”

  “Good. I already bought you a ticket to fly out on Tuesday.”

  I smile in spite of myself. Annabelle is beyond frugal, so it’s a big deal she would shell out a lot of money for me.

  “Thanks, sis.”

  “You’re welcome. David and I will pick you up at the airport, and you’ll have a nice guest room here to stay as long as you like. All you have to do is get on the plane. Can you manage that?”

  I nod to myself. “I can.”

  “I know you can. See you in a few days.”

  “Bye.”

  After hanging up with her, I lay back on the couch and brush my hair from my forehead. I’ve never been to London. Maybe it’ll be fun and just the change I need to get my head back in the game. One thing’s for sure. It can’t be any worse than drinking away my sorrows on my couch in L.A. I can’t afford this fancy furnished apartment anymore anyway.

  Smiling, I close my eyes. I finally have something to look forward to.

  ◆◆◆

  Several days later, after the longest flight of my life, I’m standing in Terminal Five at London’s Heathrow Airport, almost in shock that I’m actually in England. After getting through customs, I head to baggage claim to find Annabelle. Looking around me, I just let all the activity and people sink in, then twist around when I hear my sister’s voice calling my name.

  I wave, and as we meet each other, we hug tightly. “Welcome to London!”

 
“It’s amazing to see you.” I look past her as David catches up with us. “Hi, David.”

  “Avery.” He hugs me and I make a funny face to my sis. She knows how British accents do me in, and her husband has the best one I’ve ever heard. Plus, he’s tall, hunky, with a beard and tattoos. I remember being so surprised when she came back from her British Museum Tour and said she met a man while out one night. It was love at first sight for both of them. When she showed me his picture, my eyes opened wide that my conservative proper sister hooked up with a total hotty. He’s basically divine, and I get a good laugh thinking about the interactions between my uptight sister and super laid back David. “Welcome.”

  “Thanks. I’m so happy to be here.”

  Annabelle hooks her arm in mine, smiling. “You must be hungry?”

  “Starved. The food on the plane was disgusting. It was like a weird gray hot dog with no bun.”

  “They served you a hot dog?” Annabelle asks.

  “Well, I don’t know. It was weird, and it had boiled potatoes with it. No butter, no sour cream. Nothing.”

  David chuckles. “It was likely just a sausage.”

  “Well, it was weird.”

  “So we need to get some decent food,” Annabelle confirms. “We’ll go to our favorite pub for fish and chips. David swears they have the best in the city. After that, we’ll get you home and let you relax a bit.”

  “Sounds great.”

  After getting my suitcase, we step outside heading to David and Annabelle’s car. When I see the driver seat on the right side of the car, I smile. So cool. Annabelle just shakes her head, but she smiles, knowing exactly why I’m reacting. David grabs my bags from me.

  “Let me just pop these in the boot, then we’ll be off.”

  “Pop them in the boot?” I look at Annabelle.

  “Put them in the trunk.”

  “Oh. I feel like I might learn a new language while I’m here.”

  “Your sister did. I expect you will too.” He winks. “We’ll get you sorted out, and you’ll be speaking proper English in a flash.”

  Annabelle laughs. “Not a day goes by that he doesn’t remind me that I was raised on bad English.”

  “I guess that makes sense from his perspective.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  I slide in the cramped backseat tucking my knees to my chest just a little as David and Annabelle sit in the front. I notice right away how comfortable they are with each other and it makes me so happy for her. I’ve only seen David twice since his marriage to my sis, and both times they were visiting me in the States. It’s a totally different vibe seeing him in his own environment. He glances at her, winking as he drives, and it brings a smile to my face. Unlike me, she had trouble getting boys to look at her. She’s sweet, smart, with the biggest heart, but I suppose it was hard living in the wake of my boisterous personality. When I walk in a room, everyone knows it. Our chosen professions fit us perfectly- she, a museum curator and me, a publicist for celebrities dealing with scandal. The harder the situation, the more I want it, only this time it backfired on me.

  Annabelle twists slightly in her seat. “How was your flight?”

  “Fine. I slept for a good chunk of it. Got a handful of Captain Ambien from the doc before I left.”

  “Smart.”

  “I can be at times.”

  She pats my hand. “You can be lots of times.”

  After navigating traffic, we arrive at our destination, parking in a large lot, then getting out of the car and walking about half a block to the restaurant. This is one of the cutest streets I’ve ever seen, so quintessentially European with cobbled streets and historic looking buildings. I know now why Annabelle likes living here.

  “Here we are,” David announces as he opens the door on the white and blue cottage style building for us, and we enter a lively little space. Music is playing and everything is dark wood and dim lighting, exactly the image I have in my mind of an English pub. David waves at a man behind the bar, then nudges Annabelle who smiles and waves.

  “That’s Henry,” she explains, dragging me by the wrist over to him. “He owns it.”

  “Okay.” When we reach him, Annabelle presents me like something she won at the carnival.

  “Henry, this is my sister Avery visiting all the way from America.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I reply, extending my hand.

  Henry looks hard at me, then at Annabelle, then back at me. “I’m bloody confused.”

  Annabelle laughs. “She’s my twin sister. We’re identical.”

  “I’ll say. Except for the clothes I’d swear I was talking to you.”

  Annabelle wraps her arm around my shoulder as we laugh together. We’re used to this reaction.

  “It’s fun to startle people again,” she says as she kisses my cheek. “It’s been too long.”

  “Agreed.” Gazing at her, I grin. “We even style our hair the same.”

  “I noticed. Some things never change, I guess.”

  “I guess.”

  “Let’s join David and get a beer and some food in us.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Taking our place beside her husband, I lean back in my seat looking at every detail of the space. It looks like a place you come to after a long day at work where you can just relax, have a beer, and be yourself.

  “I like it here a lot. I haven’t been to a place like this in years living in L.A.”

  “I bet not,” Annabelle says. “You probably have to go to trendy spots all the time.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Psshh,” David says. “I hate trendy.”

  I tilt my head. “But you are trendy.”

  Annabelle laughs. “She’s got you there, honey.”

  He grins and nods. “Correction. I hate trendy places filled with pretentious people.”

  “Fair enough,” I reply laughing. “I feel the same way, but I make my living working for pretentious people.”

  I notice how David and my sister exchange glances until a waitress comes over to get our order. David takes the lead ordering food, and when she leaves, he just smiles at me.

  “Something I should know about? You two are acting weird.”

  “Nope, nothing weird here,” he says, looking around nervously.

  “Oh, come on. Do I have a booger in my nose or something?”

  They both laugh. “No, you’re fine,” my sister says, patting my hand.

  “Okay.” Our drinks come and I take a long sip of my cold beer. “Oh, man, that’s good.”

  “Glad you like it,” David says, nodding.

  “So how’s work?” I ask.

  “Mine is good,” Annabelle says. “Tourism is strong and we have some interesting exhibits coming on loan next year.”

  “Cool. We’ll have to add that to our tourist destinations. David?”

  He clears his throat, shifting his eyes quickly to my sister, then back at me. “Good.”

  “Good?” I nod. “Okay.”

  “Actually,” Annabelle begins and I nod. Here it comes. I knew there was something. “We have something we wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Uh huh.” I sip my beer.

  “Well, there’s a unique opportunity you might be interested in.”

  “Unique, huh?”

  “Yes.” She smiles as she wraps her hand around her husband’s. “David is the Chief Financial Officer for a very large financial company here in London.”

  “I know.”

  “Right, so the CEO is his best friend, and well, he could use the services of a good publicist. Someone like you.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, he’s had a bit of scandal recently.” Our food is dropped off, and as I dig into my meal, Annabelle continues her story. “It’s not true, what they’re saying. That’s why he needs you.”

  “What are they saying?”

  She purses her lips then glances at David.

  “He’s been accused of
misogyny and breeding a hostile workplace for women.” My sister nudges his arm, and he sighs. “And sexual harassment.”

  I nod, shoving a French fry in my mouth. “Yeah, well, white collar corporate types aren’t my thing.”

  “Hear us out,” Annabelle says. “He’s accused of having a relationship with someone who worked with him and when it went wrong, he fired her.”

  “Did he fire her?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So it’s true then,” I interrupt. “Things went bad and he fired her. That’s illegal.” I chew my fry. “Well, it is in the U.S.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” David explains. “She was dismissed because she didn’t do her work. Prior to that, they had one drink after work one time and she turned it into something it wasn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know him, Avery. Very well. He would never.”

  I nod, picking up another fry. “Okay. Why me? I mean besides my obvious availability. I don’t know him. No one in London knows me. Why not hire someone local who’s familiar with how the media works here?”

  “That’s why it’s perfect,” my sister answers, squeezing my hand. “Everyone will pay attention to you because you’re new and different. You’ll bring a fresh perspective to the situation.”

  “Why do I feel like you aren’t telling me something?”

  She frowns looking at David. “He can be… difficult,” David explains. “He’s been through a few internal publicists, so I thought it might be a good idea for him to go external and work with someone with no background information. No preconceived notions.”

  “So the two of you dragged me to London to get me to take a job for a difficult misogynist?” I raise my eyebrows. “Is that the deal?”

  “No,” Annabelle says. “We invited you to London for two reasons. To spend time with me and to consider taking a job for a somewhat difficult alleged misogynist.”

  Breaking my fish in two pieces, I narrow my eyes at her. “How well do you know him?”

  “Very well.”

  “You like him?” She can’t lie to me. I’ll know if she does. It’s my twin sense.

  “When he’s relaxed and not talking about work, then yes I do.”