Page 69 of Nothing But the Truth

A frustrated breath slipped from Jonathan’s mouth. “Tarnishing my reputation; threatening my status; jumping on the bandwagon because accusing men in positions of power is on-trend right now. Perhaps they are suffering from some form of mental or emotional instability and have targeted me. The reasons run many, but I can’t say. Perhaps you should ask them.”

Sadness stabbed through Lucy like a blade. She ached for Annie and for herself. Not only were they liars; now they were crazy ones. Making up stories to get the boss in trouble. More unhinged women with an agenda.

She had known it was all coming—she had even warned Annie about it in her office before they decided to publish the article—but hearing it all live in person hurt more than she expected.

She was at least thankful Annie wasn’t present in the room.

“What about the allegations that you attempted to pay off an employee to keep quiet?” a faceless voice asked from the front of the room.

Lucy kept her eyes down. What good would calling out the lie she knew was about to spew from Jonathan’s mouth do anyway? Her losing her cool with an audience would only serve his unhinged-woman narrative.

Just another way to silence her, she realized.

The injustice burned at her like she was tied to a stake. Aflame in a room full of people and no one could see.

“That too is a baseless accusation,” Jonathan said. “I have made no monetary offers to employees for any purpose, especially not in the context I’m accused of doing here.”

His shift in story was almost comical. The adamant cruelty in his office when he tried to fire her was nowhere to be found. It was as if none of it had happened because it no longer served his purpose. She was a promising publicist gone rogue, and he was the victim.

The conversation turned to static buzz in her ears. Like a million mosquitoes trapped in a tube. Perhaps it was self-preservation sparing her hearing more lies. Or maybe it was just rage. She didn’t realize the press conference had ended until Oliver nudged her and said, “It’s over.”

The crowd dispersed in a dull hum of chatter. Jonathan was whisked off by his legal escorts, going who knew where. Perhaps to hide behind the gated driveway at his house in Laurel Canyon, where he’d be safe from anyone begging him for more comments.

Lucy looked around at her colleagues in a daze. Oliver’s face twisted into a combination of disgruntled contempt and soft support that only he could pull off. Chase met Lucy’s eye and opened his mouth like he had something to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. She turned away to see Joanna approaching, neutral-faced and extending a folded piece of paper to Monica.

“Not here,” she said with a subtle shake of her head as she handed it over. “I’d like to see you in my office, if you’re available. Both of you.” She nodded at Lucy and headed toward the elevators.

Lucy and Monica swapped a confused look as Monica swiftly stuffed the folded paper in her bra.

“What’s that about?” Oliver whispered.

“I don’t know; you’re her assistant,” Lucy said, and dutifully followed.

“I know nothing.”

They wound their way to the elevator and rode up to the sixth floor in an anxious silence. Most everyone inside J&J was staring at their phone or gathered around someone’s computer screen, surely to watch the press conference and ogle the fallout on social media. Lucy felt like a pariah being paraded down the hall. Eyes peeled from screens to watch her go by, the promising publicist just publicly called a liar. She could almost see the camps dividing as she passed: Team Jonathan versus Team Lucy and Annie. Loyalty bent with the wind, it seemed.

“Oliver, there will be a company-wide briefing in twenty minutes; send an invite, please. And notify the board we’ll be meeting later,” Joanna said ominously.

Oliver exited at his cubicle with a nod, and Lucy and Monica continued on. On her third visit to Joanna’s office that day, Lucy still took no comfort in the normally soothing view.

As if nothing were amiss, Joanna swanned over to the sideboard under her TV and grabbed three crystal tumblers and a bottle of amber-colored liquid. She set the glasses on her desk and twisted the cork free with a squeaking pop. Lucy had never seen Joanna drink in her office; the sideboard usually held only fresh flowers.

“Are we celebrating something?” Monica asked, sounding as dubious as Lucy felt.

Joanna splashed two fingers into each glass and lifted one. She took a sip and exhaled a long breath. “Yes. I just watched my arrogant, condescending ass of a brother hang himself on live TV. Cheers.” She nodded at the two remaining glasses.

Clearly, they were supposed to join in what appeared to be a victory dance.

Lucy lifted her glass. The sharp smell of an oak barrel having been lit on fire watered her eyes.

They all three sipped and shuddered.

“I don’t know why men pride themselves on drinking such foul things during working hours.” Joanna studied her glass as if it would tell her the answer. “I stole this from Jonathan’s office while he was preparing for his press conference; I think it’s at least eighteen years old.”

Lucy set her glass down, deciding one sip was enough. On another day, she would not have insulted the drink offered to her, but since Joanna had just done it—and it really was awful—she felt no remorse. “This is terrible, and what do you mean, hang himself? Everyone believed him when he just stood up there and lied for five minutes.”

“Exactly.” Joanna grinned. She pointed to Monica’s chest with drink in hand then took another sip. “Read it.”

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