Page 4 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
"That's Julien," Jessa tells me. "He's the new PR guy. He’s temporary. At least, I hope he is. He sucks."
I watch him fumble through damage control, practically begging the media to go easy on the team. He's a mess. Apologetic, nervous, completely out of his depth. I frown.
"He's not doing his job," I mutter.
“Who?” Jessa blinks. "The reporter?"
"No. Julien, the PR rep. If they respected him, they wouldn't have dared ask about Hunter’s mom. Someone should have stopped them from asking that question.”
Jessa studies my face. "You get kinda intense when you talk about PR stuff."
I don't answer. I'm too busy watching the chaos unfold, seeing all the ways this could have been prevented. A good PR person builds relationships with reporters, establishes boundaries, controls the narrative before it controls you. Julien is just reacting, which means he's already lost.
This is why I love PR. I love finding the angle, controlling the story, building order out of chaos. I know I could do this better than anyone else in that room. And after Patrick, proving myself matters more than anything.
As we walk toward the parking garage, I can't stop thinking about what I just witnessed.
"The team managers have got to do something about Huxley," I say, almost talking to myself. "Have him adopt a kid. Rescue puppies. Get him a fake fiancée. Anything to change the narrative."
Jessa raises an eyebrow. "Fake fiancée? That's dramatic."
"Not if you sell it right. A few photos, sappy social media captions, gala appearances. Let the press eat it up and forget about tonight's disaster. I could build the entire campaign in my sleep."
"Does he even have a girlfriend?"
I snort. "Doubt it. He's too much. Too gruff, too pissed off at the world. And he never liked puck bunnies, not even in college. He'd need someone who can play the part but won't fall for the act."
Jessa side-eyes me as we reach my car. "So… you looking for a good side gig?"
I stop walking. "What? No. God, no. We can't stand each other. He once ruined my entire internship track with one stupid quote to a reporter about how female sports journalists were just quotelooking for attention. I didn't even get to interview for the position after that."
She screws up her mouth. "But you already know him. And you're clearly the one with the plan."
I wave a hand dismissively. "Take the idea. I'll have a hundred more by tomorrow."
But as I drive home, I can't stop thinking about Hunter's interview disaster, about Julien's incompetence, about the way the whole situation should have been handled differently. I tell myself this is just a coincidence. One night, one sighting, one awkward run-in with someone from my past.
There's no way this horrible man will ever factor into my life again. I have better things to focus on. Better plans to make. But as I drive home, I can’t stop thinking about Hunter’s interview disaster, Julien’s incompetence, and how someone could have handled the whole situation differently.
I intend to forget about him completely.
Chapter2
Hunter
Another day, another fight waiting to happen.
It's game night and I'm sitting in Coach Cross's office with my arms folded and my jaw locked, already knowing what's coming. Cross is behind his desk looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, and Ryan Haart is standing nearby trying to look supportive. They're about to give me the talk. Again.
Cross doesn’t bother pretending this is a check-in. It’s a warning. One I’ve heard too many times before.
“Hunter,” he says, drumming his fingers on the desk, “we love the Chainsaw act. The fans eat it up. But sponsors?”
I wait.
“Not so much.”
There it is. The line. The threat wrapped in a compliment.
