Client Trouble
1978 Words
By the time I returned to my office, the video had gained another seven million views.
I watched it again without sound.
The motorcycle appeared at the entrance of the Hawthorne Foundation gala, cutting through the line of arriving cars before moving beneath the bright lights outside the venue. Guests stepped back. Cameras turned. The rider slowed just long enough for the crowd to notice him before the footage ended.
The helmet concealed his face.
It had concealed everything.
If I had known who was beneath it, I might have watched the video differently.
Or perhaps I would have avoided it altogether.
I paused the footage and leaned back in my chair.
Logan Hayes.
Vice president of one of the most influential corporations in the country. Head of Hayes Motorworks. The man responsible for a public-relations crisis that threatened an international partnership.
And, apparently, the reason I had spent the morning questioning my professional judgment.
I opened a new document.
HAYES CORPORATION — CRISIS STRATEGY
The first step was controlling the narrative.
The second was determining whether the narrative was true.
My phone rang.
“Olivia Brooks.”
“Marcus Bell,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you received the files.”
“I did.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“The original footage.”
There was a brief silence.
“You already have the video.”
“I have the version released online. I want the unedited recording.”
“Why?”
“Because someone cut the footage before Logan removed his helmet.”
“That could have been intentional.”
“Possibly. But the camera follows him too closely. Whoever filmed it knew where he was going.”
“You think it was planned?”
“I think someone wanted the public to see one specific version of what happened.”
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
“I’ll send the original file.”
“Good. I also need the guest list, the security schedule, and every media request Hayes has received since last night.”
“You’ll have them.”
I ended the call and returned to the video.
A knock sounded at my door.
“Come in.”
My assistant stepped inside.
“You have a visitor.”
“I don’t have another appointment.”
“He says he does.”
Before I could ask who, Logan appeared behind her.
He was no longer wearing the leather jacket from the garage. His black shirt was fitted beneath a dark coat, and his hair looked as though he had made no effort to tame it.
Annoyingly, it suited him.
“Thank you,” I told my assistant. “I’ll handle this.”
She looked between us.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Logan smiled at her.
“She’s always this welcoming.”
My assistant raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve known each other long?”
“No,” I said.
“Not long enough,” Logan added.
I gave him a warning look.
He only smiled wider.
My assistant left, closing the door behind her.
The moment the latch clicked into place, Logan leaned against the door and studied me.
“You left.”
I looked up from my laptop.
“You’re supposed to be at Hayes.”
“I was.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I wanted to see how you were handling my crisis.”
“I’m working.”
“I can see that.”
“Then you can leave.”
He remained where he was.
“You’re less friendly in your office.”
“I am never friendly.”
His gaze moved slowly over my face.
“No,” he said. “You were.”
I stared at him.
He pushed away from the door and walked toward my desk.
“Do you always ignore your clients?”
“Only when they arrive without an appointment.”
“I thought you liked unexpected things.”
“I don’t.”
His smile was quiet.
“That isn’t what I remember.”
My fingers stopped above the keyboard.
The words were soft.
Careless enough that anyone listening outside the room would have assumed he was talking about our meeting at the garage.
But we were alone.
And Logan knew exactly what he was doing.
“Mr. Hayes,” I said.
“Logan.”
“Mr. Hayes.”
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat.
“You keep using my last name.”
“Because it’s professional.”
“Is that what we are?”
“Yes.”
His gaze held mine.
“Interesting.”
I looked back at my laptop.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Maybe you should focus.”
“I am focused.”
“You’re typing the same sentence again.”
I glanced at the screen.
He was right.
I deleted it.
“Why are you here?”
“To cooperate.”
“You could have done that over the phone.”
“I prefer meetings.”
“You didn’t schedule one.”
“I’m spontaneous.”
“I noticed.”
His smile returned.
“I thought you might.”
I ignored him and opened the files Marcus had sent.
“Tell me exactly what happened before you arrived at the gala.”
Logan leaned back.
“You already know.”
“I know what the video shows.”
“And?”
“It shows a motorcyclist entering through the main gate.”
“Very observant.”
“It doesn’t explain why.”
“The road behind the venue was blocked.”
“By what?”
“A black SUV.”
“Did you recognize it?”
“No.”
“Did you see who was inside?”
“Two men were standing beside it.”
“Did they speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did they move when you approached?”
“Eventually.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I was late.”
I looked up.
“You were late to a charity gala, so you ignored a suspicious vehicle blocking the road?”
“It didn’t seem suspicious at the time.”
“It seems suspicious now.”
“Everything seems suspicious when you work in public relations.”
“No. Everything seems suspicious when important information is withheld.”
Logan’s expression changed slightly.
“You think someone planned this.”
“I think the timing is convenient.”
“For who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
My phone vibrated.
An email from Marcus appeared.
ORIGINAL SECURITY FOOTAGE
I opened the attachment.
The recording began from a camera positioned behind the venue.
Logan’s motorcycle approached the entrance.
A black SUV blocked the road.
Two men stood beside it.
The footage skipped.
When it returned, Logan was riding toward the front of the building.
Then the screen went black.
I watched it again.
“Why does the recording cut out?”
“The cameras stopped working.”
“When?”
“Before I arrived.”
“That should have been the first thing you told me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Logan.”
He smiled.
“You said my name.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That seems to be your favorite thing to say.”
“Because it’s accurate.”
He watched me for a moment.
Then his expression became serious.
“Do you think someone set me up?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I don’t make conclusions without evidence.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s called doing my job.”
“I know.”
The teasing disappeared from his voice.
For the first time since arriving, he looked genuinely focused.
“You believe the video was edited.”
“Yes.”
“And you think someone wanted me blamed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the footage removes every detail that could explain your actions. It makes you look reckless.”
“I am reckless.”
“Not professionally.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You’ve known me for one day.”
“I’ve reviewed your corporate history.”
“That sounds disappointing.”
“I’ve also spoken to Marcus.”
“Much worse.”
“Hayes Corporation doesn’t put irresponsible people in charge of international partnerships.”
“Maybe they made a mistake.”
“Did they?”
His gaze remained on mine.
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
I believed him.
That was becoming a problem.
I closed the file.
“We need to change the public narrative before the partnership announcement.”
“How?”
“First, we release a statement confirming that the entrance was unplanned and that no one was injured.”
“Boring.”
“It’s responsible.”
“Can we make it less boring?”
“No.”
“What if I explain it myself?”
“No.”
“What if I speak to one reporter?”
“No.”
“What if—”
“Logan.”
He smiled.
“Worth asking.”
“You are not speaking publicly without my approval.”
“Very controlling.”
“I’m protecting the company.”
“And me?”
“You’re part of the company.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I looked at him.
For a second, the room became too quiet.
“You hired me to manage a crisis,” I said. “That is what I’m doing.”
His gaze moved over my face.
“You’re very good at separating things.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
I stood and walked around the desk.
“You should leave.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
“You’re interfering with my work.”
“I came to cooperate.”
“You’ve spent the last twenty minutes irritating me.”
“That can be cooperative.”
“No, it can’t.”
He stood.
The space between us suddenly felt smaller.
“You’re different here,” he said.
“This is my office.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m working.”
“I noticed that too.”
“Then stop distracting me.”
His smile softened.
“I’m not trying to.”
“You’re doing a terrible job.”
“Maybe you’re easily distracted.”
“I’m not.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he stepped back.
“Fine.”
I folded my arms.
“Fine?”
“I’ll let you work.”
“Good.”
He walked toward the door.
“Logan.”
He turned.
“What?”
“Do not speak to the press.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not post anything online.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not ride anywhere near another public event.”
He smiled.
“I’ll try.”
“That wasn’t one of the options.”
“Then no.”
“Good.”
He opened the door.
Before leaving, he looked back at me.
“Try not to work too late, Olivia.”
“I always work late.”
“I know.”
The smile he gave me was quiet.
Knowing.
Then he left.
I stood beside my desk for several seconds.
The crisis was worse than I had expected.
The footage had been edited.
The security cameras had failed.
Someone had made sure the public saw Logan as reckless and irresponsible.
And somehow, in the middle of everything, my client had become the most distracting part of the job.
I sat down and opened the files again.
Whatever was happening at Hayes Corporation, I intended to uncover it.
And Logan Hayes
I intended to keep him at a professional distance.
No matter how difficult he made that.
- Writer
