Good publicity?
2142 Words
Percy
Lana grins. "I know, right?! This has been their biggest public ‘fail’ since the royal couple admitted they faked their relationship in the beginning to secure the king’s position.”
“What?”
“Long story," she waves one hand dismissively. All you need to know is thatacklash for that. Not everyone loves Nael and Maeve." Well, I guess that's the case for any authority figure, so it's not really surprising.
"I think the community is split about 80/20 in their favor, but with that article last week…” A somber expression crosses my friend’s face. “It was the first time in years it got really ugly.” She’s typing something into the search bar, not looking up at me. I see her brows furrow, and her voice is quieter than usual. “They always print those ridiculous pictures of Jordan with a new girl every other week, or they’ll fake an interview with Khai, one of the younger ones, on his escapades and how to join certain dark net websites… You know, being aggressively nosey. But they never outright attack someone.”
She turns her laptop screen toward me. “They did with this.” And I have to swallow twice. Because what I see next is just-
Pictures upon pictures of Jordan and a petite woman with shoulder-length dark hair. Jordan holding a baby. Laughing, making faces at the little one. There is article upon article, and the more headlines I read, the sicker I feel to my stomach. What the actual f*ck? I don’t think I have ever seen so many triggering words in just a few sentences. A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I blink a few times to get rid of the dark edges that start closing in on me. Flashbacks to a few years ago when those kinds of headlines were about me.
The more articles she pulls up, the darker the themes get. The last one talks about a s*x trafficking ring in depth. That’s when I turn back to Lana, to avert my eyes from the screen. I could blame it on the pregnancy, but I’m sure the bile in my throat and the queasy feeling in my stomach have more to do with what I just read than the 'chicken finger.'
“The girl…” I leave the statement hanging in the air. My friend nods and switches back to the live video. It’s the timid one sitting next to the tall blonde. Her hands are now both wound around his left arm, and his huge paw is covering one of her knees. It’s her in the photos. And given the baby’s pretty grey eyes, I’d say guessing paternity isn’t that hard.
“Both Greer and Silas found their mates last year. The circumstances were… traumatic. So they kept it private. For the girls’ sake.” Lana shakes her head. “Some of the reports thought it their professional obligation to 'dig a little deeper'.”
My gaze jumps from the brunette to the small, dark-haired woman on the screen and back.
“How much of….” For the second time, I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Or why I would want to know. That small voice in the back of my head shouts at me to slap myself for engaging in the same voyeurism I judged everyone for when I was the one being dragged in every paper in a 50-mile radius.
“All of it… apparently. They came on this podcast to get ahead of more information coming out misconstrued, I guess. Tell their side of the story and try to appeal to people’s humanity. Smart, actually.”
“I don’t know if I would want to share more after someone invaded my privacy like that.” My brows furrow.
“They’re fighting fire with fire, and it seems to pay off so far. Look at the comments… and at the Likes the video already has. Imagine that once it’s cut into Shorts and reuploaded later tomorrow. Millions of people in the supernatural world will see this!” Lana looks almost impressed. “That’s good publicity.”
“I don’t know….”
‘So now that all of you got to share a special memory with us- interesting tradition, by the way, Valentina- I feel kind of bad for leaving you out, Jordan.’
It’s the first time I focus on what is said in the video, and when she sees my attention shift, Lana ups the volume. Jordan smiles widely, and I hate that I register his dimples. I definitely shouldn’t listen so intently to anything he has to say. He’s enemy number one with the hot water he could put me in with ‘Stilzer,’ and I hate myself for engaging with anything that has to do with him at all. But I just can’t help it. Ugh. I need to remind myself of the negative. Keep the sh*tty stuff in mind, P.
He didn’t exactly seem like the beacon of virtue or great decisions when we met. Perfect, what else? He was polite enough, but he tried to flirt with me at least twice there, and one thing I can do without is men who can’t read the room. There you go. I can come up with more, though.
‘Oh, that’s alright, Avery.’
‘No,’ the redhead pushes her headphones back a little. ‘I insist. Tell us a tradition you look forward to this year.’
One of his big hands comes up, and Jordan scratches his clean-shaven chin for a moment. ‘Well, I don't know if that isn't a little too private, Avery. ’ Flirting, ugh. Of course. I could have definitely done without the wink.
‘Don’t be coy, Jo.’ The brunette leans forward, eying Jordan. Then she shoots him a wink back, and he chuckles.
‘Yeah, come on, Jo.’ The interviewer cuts in as well, and the douchbag lifts his hands in surrender.
‘Ok, OK.’ He fidgets a little with his fingers, and maybe it’s just me, but it does seem like he’s nervous. ‘Uhm… there is this Brazilian tradition where on your birthday, you have to give the first piece of cake to the person you love the most.’
I see the blonde’s face morph into a smile, and even then, the guy who stayed silent through most of the interview grins a little when Jordan continues.
‘Our father would always split it between the seven of us but give Mom the biggest bite.’ Jordan smiles again, looking a little like he’s lost in thought. Maybe replaying a memory of the last birthday he spent with his parents. Sure sounds nice.
‘I plan on doing that this year.’
‘Really?’ The blonde is the first to speak after a few seconds of silence.
‘Yup. Think it’s time to get into all those family traditions again.’
‘Well, that sure sounds like a nice idea, Jordan.’ Avery smiles coyly, but I see her pen move over her notepad at a dizzying pace.
‘We’ll surely miss the big 'birthday bash' but…’ She chuckles. ‘Always makes for great pictures. I think I still have the shirtless one from last year lying around here.’
‘Oh, don’t flatter me, Avery. That’s not a souvenir. We can take a better one once we’re done here.’
Jordan winks again, and I hear the interviewer giggle. Ugh. OK, this is getting into the ‘I don’t think I want to watch this any longer’ territory. But just when I’m about to turn to Lana and ask her to turn it off, the interviewer interrupts me with her next question.
‘So, smashing cake instead of a 'birthday bash' this year?’
‘Yup.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Very.’
‘No way to change your mind?’
‘Nope.’
‘Already got that special person to give your first piece of cake to?’
‘Yep.’
And for a second, Jordan freezes and looks almost like a guilty child. Did he not want to share this? I’m not the only one picking up on the raised eyebrows and acutely aware gaze that moves over his brothers and their partners, who are all looking at him, just waiting. Avery clocked the wide eyes and- is that sweat on the back of his nose? She leans forward in her chair.
‘Really? Oh, please do tell. Who’s lucky enough to get that big a piece of Jordan Araújo?’
One of his hands goes to his hair, and I see Jordan pull a few strands out of his bun, then he fiddles with the buttons on his shirt. Why does he look so busted? Someone like him should be more prepared for an interview, and a stupid throw-away question shouldn’t have him tripping and searching for words like this.
‘I…’ He cuts himself off, and now even his siblings lean in a little. The big guy’s brows are furrowed, and blondie carefully eyes Jordan’s face and seems ready to say something when a shift goes through the latter.
It’s like he’s suddenly three times taller and pulling his shoulders back, Avery’s and my (f*ck those hormones) eyes go straight to the now further exposed bit of his chest. Why he even makes it a point to button up the last few is beyond me. Just embrace it and show everyone your belly button why don’t you?
‘I’ve met someone. Been trying to keep it on the down low for a bit, but… I don’t know. I kind of feel like it could work out. Just can’t stop thinking about her.’
‘Say what now?!’
Yeah, my reaction is similar to the brunette’s. Nothing about this was on his file. And don’t get me wrong: I don’t feel entitled to this information. But it would have been nice to know. I might even have been able to use it as leverage. I don’t know. I could have told ‘Stiltzer’ to ask her to get the samples and still tell Jordan about it so he can take all the necessary precautions.
‘You heard it here first, people. Now Jordan…’ The hostess turns to him, and I have the feeling what he said a second ago was less than well thought through. He’s definitely in the hot seat now, and it underlines my position that this is going questionable at best… not really doing their public image any good.
‘You just have to tell us a bit more about her. What kind of girl captures your attention?’
“Didn’t you say she was good at this?”
“Hey! You didn’t watch the interview up until now.” Lana throws another pillow at my head. “And people want to know that kind of stuff.”
I snort and push the blanket aside. 'Chicken Finger' is doing the Irish jig on my bladder. “People are weird.” Getting up off the couch, I turn toward the hall.
‘She is in medical school… and we met on one of my gigs. Working at odd hours is something we have in common.’ A short laugh that sends a shiver down my spine. ’She’s got quite the temper, almost ran me over with her car.’
‘What?’
Jordan laughs again. ‘Oh, no worries. That thing is so old and rusty that it would probably fall apart on impact.’ You can hear the smile in his voice, and I hate myself for wanting to turn back around, but I persist— bladder before stupid pregnancy hormones that seem drawn to hang onto this stranger’s lips.
‘Even named that thing. ‘Glitterfart’… but hey, it’s her first car, and she paid for it with her own money, so who am I to judge her.’
The interviewer’s chuckles blend in with the high-pitched humming noise that starts in my ears and Lana coughing, almost choking on the popcorn she just stuffed in her mouth. Anger boils in the pit of my stomach, but I just freeze at the spot. Unable to come to my friend's aid, who now luckily managed to get her breathing under control and is staring at me.
‘She sounds like a hoot.’
‘Yeah, she is, Avery. And feisty. Really into her privacy. Has this thing about dressing up to stay in incognito. I think the last time it was this really shiny blood-red wig.’
“Why the f*ck is the crown prince talking about you in an interview." Lana's hand closes around my wrist and the popcorn bowl is tipping dangerously in her lap. "Tell me everything. RIGHT NOW, P!"
I’ll murder him. No, better: I give him to ’Stiltzer’ to be tested on.
“What the f*ck is wrong with this dude?!”
- Writer
