Page 23 of Out of the Blue

“Make it three days, and you’re on,” Maurice counters.

Feeling the need to join in the bet, if nothing else but to support Joey, I add, “I’ll take two weeks. Sorry, man.”

Joey nods. “I pray it doesn’t take a month. Cheri doesn’t need this, after everything.”

I’m rooting for Maurice to win this one.

Chapter 8 - Cordelia

After my meeting with Joey and Trent yesterday, I spoke with the Marketing VP and we fleshed out a strategy to counteract the hateful story in the tabloids. Going along with what’s been authorized, I put together a bunch of social media posts outlining, in broad terms, exactly what happened five years ago.

I reread the Word document one final time. I’ve never had to rebut such an awful mess of half-truths and outright lies before, so I decided to create everything in one document before posting separately. It’s taken me longer to finish than I had hoped, but it’s ready to go now. Thankfully, TLR isn’t high on people’s radar, so the traction the story’s gained has been limited. But now, we’re ready. Finished with edits, I email it to Mr. Hewitt for his blessing.

While I wait his approval, I dial Rita to get a feel for what Apex, in general, is thinking about this mess, and there’s no better source. She picks up on the second ring. After a quick check-in, I plow ahead. “So, have you heard anything about the articleFirst Rumorswrote about one of the members of The Light Rail?”

She whistles. “I have. The whole office has been buzzing about it. Mr. Griffith pitched a fit and had an emergency meeting with Hunte’s team yesterday.”

I swallow. “Yeah. I kinda figured it was something like that. The band and I developed a strategy I’m about to execute, with Mr. Hewitt’s input, of course. Correcting all the lies printed in the tabloid.” I fill her in on the real details of the sordid story.

“Wow. Poor Cheri. It must be hard having to relive such awful moments of her life.”

My head snaps backward. “You know, I never thought of it like that. I knew Joey was upset, but I thought it was mainly over all the lies. I bet his wife is suffering all over again.”

“I’m sure she is. You haven’t spoken with her?”

“No. Joey said she didn’t want to talk about it, but he was speaking for the both of them.”

“I can only imagine. Oh, wait a sec.” She places me on hold for a minute. “So sorry. I have to go deal with a travel snafu one of the bands is having.”

I laugh. “Wish I was there to help out.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ve got this.”

“Thanks for everything, Rita.”

Once we disconnect, I ponder what she said about how hard this whole thing must be on Cheri. Maybe I’ll give her a call once everything’s posted.

After getting the VP’s go-ahead, I busy myself by uploading a press release onto the band’s website and posting on Facebook and Twitter. After doing some edits to a photo of Joey and Cheri I captured at Madison Square Garden, I post it to Instagram together with their statement and make a similar post to TikTok. The fact Apex was somewhat concerned over the smear campaign, and I am counteracting it, can only earn me brownie points. Perhaps even a favorable rating for an advance?

Knowing I should wait at little longer before approaching Apex for a loan, I busy myself by monitoring the fans’ positive reactions on social media. I’m happy the band decided to go this route rather than calling up a reporter. It’s much more personal, and this story is nothing but personal. Pride at my work swells. Even if no one else says it, I’m confident I did a good job.

While I’m reviewing TLR’s social media, Mamá texts me. Sticking out my tongue at my screen, I read her latest rant about howmycreditors are callingherhouse. She ignored my texts about her gambling away Juanita’s tuition, so I do her the same courtesy.

That night, I’m backstage with the band before their performance, preparing to take more photos. I jump when someone taps my shoulder.

“Oh, Joey, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He flashes me a brilliant white smile as if to make up for being so stealthy. His arms move behind his back as if he’s holding something.

Intrigued, I ask, “What’cha got there?”

He grins. “Cheri and I are grateful for what you put out on social media. Most of the comments have been so supportive, and we’re happy our story may help others.” He brings his arms forward, and shows me a shiny, new Canon camera. “We got you this as a thank you. Figured you could use it to snap photos rather than using all the storage on your cell phone.”

My eyes widen. I reach for my new camera. “You didn’t have to do this. I was only doing my job.”

He shrugs. “We wanted to. We really appreciate everything.” He kisses my cheek, then Maurice calls him over for a pre-show huddle.

No one has ever given me a gift for doing a good job. I pause as a memory of Big Rolls giving me a fancy dress replays in my mind. Something he wanted me to wear to one of his soirees. Not without wanting a hand job in return, I amend.

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