addiction to the press, but she swore blind it was a sound, if uncomfortable manoeuvre. “The public love a flawed hero. They will love you for being human, Mr Redfern, and everyone loves a sex addict, it’s one of the most popular kinds of addiction.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The most popular kind of addiction?”
“That’s right. We grade them. Heroin comes out bottom, as you’d expect. Sex addiction holds intrigue.”
“So, April gets all teary-eyed on a talk show, tells the world how tough marriage is and how hard we’re trying? Then I confess to a sex addiction?”
“In a nutshell. We want the public to feel your pain, enter your healing journey with you. We play this right, Mr Redfern, and your public personas will be stronger than ever. Like I said, everyone loves a flawed hero, but they love a flawed couple even more.” This was crazy and ridiculous, but still I let her speak. “Six months’ time should see a very different landscape. I’m sure you’ll be impressed. I’ve sent our proposal along to your wife’s representatives, I’m sure we’ll be able to co-ordinate timescales if you wish to proceed.”
“This plan, we work it for twelve months and then we have an exit strategy, yes? A way to separate with as little damage as possible to our careers?”
Caroline looked confused, flicking through paperwork. “That isn’t the brief I received through Mrs Redfern’s team.” She handed me a printout. “Three year strategy. It’s clearly stated.”
The horror on my face must have spoken volumes. I felt ashen, broken. “I can’t do that long. I need out.”
“Three years is a sensible timeline, Mr Redfern, especially with your wife’s ambitions for music success. That will take time, the Cherry Electric brand is no longer valuable. If she wishes to be placed on one of the music reality TV panels she will really need a stronger platform.”
My voice was nothing more than a hiss. “I don’t care about her fucking ambitions, or her shitty music. I want half the house, and I want out.”
“You seem to be at cross purposes, I’d recommend you speak it over with her before our next meeting.”
“Fine.” I grabbed my keys, but she took hold of my wrist before I could stand.
“Mr Redfern, may I speak candidly?”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“Gables and I are your PR consultants, we are here to advise on your wishes, your public brand, with or without the association with your wife.”
“Yes...” I prompted.
“May I ask a question? You are free to answer, or not, as you see fit.” Her voice was clipped and professional, pausing until I gave a definite nod. “Gemma Taylor, do you have feelings for her?”
I debated my answer for a few seconds before I tossed the keys back on the desk top. “I’m in love with Gemma Taylor, Ms Vaughan. Life’s not all that fair in the public eye, is it?”
“Please, call me Caroline.” She reached into a desk drawer and handed me a flip file. “I took the liberty of formulating an alternate strategy. The social media positioning is too strong to ignore. I think it may interest you.”
I flicked through pages of circled Twitter hashtags.
#SupportGemma
#NoFakes
#LoveYourCurves.
“What is this?”
“The social media support of Miss Taylor has been quite phenomenal. It appears she’s captured the public’s imagination. The ordinary woman is rooting for the flawed heroine, and that, Mr Redfern, has the makings of a wonderful PR campaign.”
“What are you suggesting?”
She leaned in close. “All I’m saying, Mr Redfern, is I think Miss Taylor would make a wonderful face for a true love conquers all campaign. Everyone loves a happy ever after, Mr Redfern. Everyone.” She smiled. “Even me.”
“You think the media would let us rest easy? I don’t want to drag Gemma through more of this crap, Caroline. She’s too good for that.”
“I’m sure we could work the media, but you would have to be prepared to sacrifice your house, or at least fight for it in court.”
The situation had never seemed clearer. “I don’t care about the house, April can have it.”
“Even better,” Caroline concluded. “Which strategy are we running with, Mr Redfern? I’ll action it as soon as you give the word.”
I think that was the first time I’d ever smiled in Gables’ offices. It felt good.
***
April was out at her own PR meeting, followed by some crappy cocktail party with Veronica Ashdown to lay the woe is me foundations, no doubt. I dragged the paperwork from the desk drawer, pleased to find all the little sticky notes still in