Page 20 of Summer Longing
Olivia’s chest was still tight with congestion, her energy level markedly low. But staying home even one more day—one more hour—was unthinkable.
“Good morning,” she said to Dakota, already at her desk. Uttering the simple greeting prompted a coughing fit. “Come into my office.”
Dakota followed Olivia and closed the door behind them. “Jeez. That doesn’t sound too good. You sure you’re not coming back too soon?” Dakota said.
Olivia’s response was a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to call a team meeting in an hour. I just need to do some catch-up. But fill me in on anything I need to know.”
While Dakota rattled off updates on various accounts, Olivia clicked through the photos on her computer screen, image after image of a nearly naked woman standing under a tropical waterfall. A client had recently landed a deal for a coffee-table book of her selfies and she wanted Olivia’s “thoughts.” Olivia looked at the carefully staged, professional photographs, and her main thought was that the woman didn’t know what the wordselfiemeant. Of course, she would keep that to herself.
“Um, Olivia?” Dakota said. “Did you do those Happy National Wine Day posts on purpose?”
Olivia looked up. Dakota was hunched over her phone, scrolling intently.
“Yes. I did a little work on Friday. I set up some posts for Sam.” Sam Saphire was a singer-songwriter whose career had taken off when he opened for John Mayer. For National Wine Day, Olivia programmed a day’s worth of wine-related images with quotes like “It’s always wine o’clock.”
“Um, yeah,” Dakota said, looking up with wide eyes. “Except you posted it through April’s account.”
What?
Everyone at HotFeed used a social media–management tool to schedule posts to go out at a certain time. She uploaded all the images and programmed the date they were to be sent out. It was simple; it was routine. And yet…
Heart pounding, Olivia grabbed her phone and tapped open Instagram and Twitter. Sure enough, the wine posts had gone out on April’s feed. April, who was famously, loudly sober as of two years ago.
Oh my God!
She must have been so foggy from fever and the lack of sleep and the cough medicine—she had never made a mistake like this! And of course, she wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place if she hadn’t been so upset about the breakup with Ian. This was why she shouldn’t get involved in relationships. Nothing but problems.
“Damn it.” She logged into her laptop; her fingers flew over the keyboard to delete the posts. In a matter of seconds, they were gone.
“Okay, well, it’s so early,” Dakota said. “I doubt anyone—”
Olivia’s cell phone rang.
She was tempted to send it straight to voice mail, but she was experienced and disciplined enough to know she had to deal with a crisis like this head-on.
“It’s April,” Olivia whispered.
Dakota shook her head.
“Hi, April,” Olivia said, swiveling her chair so she faced the window instead of her assistant’s horrified expression.
“‘Hi, April’?” said the woman on the other end of the line. “That’s what you have to say to me? Do you have any idea how many messages I just woke up to? From my friends, my family, advertisers for the shows—my AA sponsor? What thehell,Olivia?”
“First, please know the posts are down. I’m so sorry. I must have logged into the wrong account. I was out all week with the flu and—”
“I don’t care if you had the bubonic plague! This is a disaster!”
“I will take full responsibility for the posts.”
“Oh, great. Why don’t I just put out a press release saying I don’t do any of my own social media? My fans will be thrilled to learn they’re messaging with a bunch of suits!”
She had a point. “Let me just—”
“You’re fired!” April hung up.
Olivia felt woozy. She didn’t know if it was because of the disaster unfolding like a six-car pileup or the virus still lingering in her system, but coming into the office suddenly seemed like a very big mistake.
Her phone rang again. It was her mother. What on earth could she possibly want? This call, Olivia did send to voice mail.
