When I find the bastard who’s holding the voodoo doll with my face on it, I’ll string up the little shit by his balls, Stephanie thought, reacting to Felicia’s news. With Appeal magazine as a new client, she now had not only to live with Gabrielle but work for her as well. It was bad enough she had to watch the girl flit around the house with glee ever since she got this stupid cover. Promoting Gabrielle was going to be pure, unadulterated torture.
Nothing could be as torturous as this stupid staff meeting, Stephanie decided. Who other than Felicia “Work Till You Weep” Wilcot calls a staff meeting for two people?
“The Appeal magazine account has added a considerable amount of work to our already full plate,” Felicia was saying. “To deal with that, I’ve hired a new receptionist slash office manager. Her name is Deena Lacey. I’m also promoting you to account executive. You’ll get a pay raise and have much more client interaction. How does all this sound?”
“Terrific.”
“You deserve it. I couldn’t have gotten through these hectic months without you. Now, that’s it for new business. As for our other accounts, The American Spirit Celebration Tour is officially over, and from all reports it was a smashing success in all five cities. So smashing that the wine-cooler sales are double the company’s initial projections and Peter Montell is keeping us on retainer for future events.”
“That’s great. What’s going on with Lexis Richards? That awful story about him was picked up by a lot of newspapers after it ran in Star Diary.”
“Tell me about it. I feel like a California fireman desperately trying to put out a wild brushfire. Every time I smother the flames of one, another one breaks out. I’d love to find the little arsonist who lit the match on this blaze.”
“Any clue how Harry Grain got his information?” Stephanie asked, assuaging her guilt by reminding herself that she had only reported the truth.
“I’m sure he paid for it.”
“He buys news?” Stephanie asked, feigning surprise and outrage.
“They all do. These tabloids are notorious for doling out dollars to people who swear they know something about somebody. The more sensational the news, the bigger the payoff.”
“Journalists can’t pay for their stories, can they?”
“That’s the point, Stephanie. Harry Grain is not a journalist. He isn’t interested in reporting unbiased news. Anything goes—fact or fiction. It’s not all his fault, though. If people stopped buying this garbage, filth like ‘The Grain Harvest’ would cease to exist.”
Stephanie disagreed totally with Felicia’s assessment of why these papers not only survived but flourished. It wasn’t the readers who fueled the tabloids, it was the celebrities themselves. Stars like Roseanne, Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Europe’s spoiled royalty were the drum majors in the great tabloid parade—marching the public straight into their wild sexual exploits, bizarre antics, and volatile relationships. How dare they have the audacity to whine and cry about invasion of privacy?
“If I can do anything to help clean up this mess, please let me know,” Stephanie offered for good measure.
“Thanks, but I think I have it all under control.”
“For our sakes, I hope Lexis isn’t hiding anything else,” Stephanie probed gently.
“He assures me that there are no other skeletons in his closet. If anyone asks anything about Lexis Richards, refer them to me. I want to avoid at all costs a repeat of this current catastrophe. Look at the time,” Felicia said, glancing at her watch. “I have a conference call with Gabrielle in five minutes. While I’m on the phone, I need you to pull together a list of feature writers we’ve used in the past. Ruthanna wants to handpick the reporter to do the Appeal story on Gabrielle, and I promised her a few suggestions.”
A story on Gabrielle? Stephanie’s heartbeat quickened. Who better to do a story on Gabrielle than me? Stephanie tried to restrain her smile. Gabrielle Donovan’s story was hers to tell. Now she just had to convince Felicia.
“Felicia, I would be perfect to write that story. I do know Gabrielle very well.”
“Don’t you think it would be a conflict of interest for the same firm that represents Gabrielle to write a story on her?”
“But this is Gabrielle’s first big interview,” Stephanie went on, ignoring Felicia’s argument. “Don’t you think she’d be more comfortable with a friend than some stranger? I know I could do a good job.”
“Stephanie, I’ll give your name to Ruthanna for consideration,” Felicia offered, “but you do understand it’s her decision?” Felicia found it pointless to argue the facts with Stephanie. Not only did she think Stephanie was the wrong writer for the assignment, Felicia was counting on her to take care of things in the office while she was away on the cruise.
“I know, but with your recommendation I might have a chance,” Stephanie said, making her expectations clear.
Gabrielle answered her cellular phone on the third ring. She was on location in Vail shooting a layout for Harper’s Bazaar.
“Gabrielle, how are you?” Felicia inquired.
“Great. Sorry we couldn’t have this meeting face to face.”
“Not a problem. So, are you excited about all this hoopla?” Felicia asked. “According to Ruthanna Beverly, you’re a star on the rise.”
“We’ll have to see about all that,” Gabrielle replied modestly.
“With everything we have planned for the launch of this magazine, it will be impossible for you not to be noticed.”
“I guess that’s the way it has to be,” Gabrielle said with resignation. Her comment had an understandably nervous edge to it.
“I thought this is what you wanted? Am I hearing something different?”
“No, it’s just that I had no idea modeling would be like this. I hadn’t factored in all this public-relations stuff.”
“That’s because you think of yourself as just another model, but the people promoting you see you as a superstar.”
“Why do they have to know so much about me?”
“For girls in your category, fame brings with it a lot of tedious and sometimes annoying consequences—the press being one of them,” Felicia explained. It was clear that Gabrielle was apprehensive about her impending fame. She had every reason to be. Beauty, celebrity, and large amounts of money could be a deadly combination for any person, but particularly for someone so young. Gabrielle had to be 100 percent sure that this was the life she wanted. If not, the time to get out was now, before things went too far.
“Gabrielle, I know all this attention seems pretty intense, but I’m afraid that it’s inevitable for someone with your potential, and it will probably get much worse. So before we go any further, you have to ask yourself: In your heart of hearts, do you really want all of this?”
Felicia’s question caught her off guard. Everyone assumed, herself included, that not only did she want this life but that she would have it. But things were different now, Gabrielle reminded herself. Helene’s death was never factored into the equation. Her mom was gone, and Gabrielle stood alone on the threshold of her dream.
“Yes, this is exactly what I want,” Gabrielle said, casting aside any doubt. Nothing was going to stop her from fulfilling her mother’s vision. Gabrielle had to take the chance that things would work out. They had so far. It had been just over a year since she’d arrived in New York, and only Bea knew her shame. And perhaps, with Beatrice and Felicia running interference, her secret life would remain just that—a secret.