Mr. Smithfield - Louise Bay Page 0,105
I’d been trying to cover up something sordid, maybe I would have. But I was telling the truth. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“Well, Houston, we have a problem,” she said.
“I’m not sleeping with Audrey Alpern.” At least the Mercury hadn’t uncovered the real reason we were together last night.
“I don’t care whether or not you’re fucking her,” Gretel said. “I care that it looks like you’re fucking her.”
“And I don’t care what it looks like,” I said. “I care about the truth. And the truth is, she’s just a friend. We were having drinks. There’s no story.” Another lie. There was a story, but it was far bigger than me being out with a married woman. It just wasn’t mine to tell.
“Unfortunately, that kind of truth doesn’t sell newspapers. We need to give them some explanation.”
“You want me to make something up?” I asked.
Gretel sighed. I’d not been making her life easy since she joined, but I resented the board questioning my commitment to the job when they were the ones around the table seeing the business thrive. Astro was outperforming its targets on every measure. “We need to offer an alternative perspective to the image of you that’s out there,” she said.
Despite Astro’s success, I was dangerously close to being fired by the board I’d created. If they thought I was sleeping with another man’s wife, especially a man who happened to be one of the biggest wealth managers in London, and I’d ignored PR, the guillotine would inch closer to my neck.
“All anyone knows about you is that you’re a surly playboy,” Gretel continued. “Someone who doesn’t like them. People like to feel liked.”
“I don’t give a shit about being liked.” Being popular was overrated. I cared about results. Loyalty. Getting things done. Not making it onto people’s Christmas card lists.
“Well, you’re an anomaly in many ways,” she said in a sing-song voice, as if she were telling a child their painting deserved to hang in the National Gallery. “I’m trying to help you. And if you want my help, you need to work with me to show the world the best side of yourself. Show them why you’re the youngest CEO the FTSE 100 has ever seen. Show them you’re sharp, focused, decisive, and most of all—open.”
I didn’t want to need Gretel, but I did. Astro Holdings was my life’s work, my passion, and I’d do whatever it took to ensure my position there was safe. Then again, the prospect of being fired by the board I had created wasn’t even the worst prospect coming down the line in the coming weeks. Being thought of as a moody womanizer was likely to be the least of my problems if what Audrey told me last night was even half right. For the second time in my life, being Mark Alpern’s friend was likely to cost me and the people I cared about. This time, I had to protect myself. Protect Audrey.
“Do you have something in mind?” These photographs the Mercury had were like cutting my hand and going out surfing. If I ignored them, I’d be asking for trouble. When the Mark Alpern bomb eventually dropped, the sharks would circle and finish me off.
“We need an entire campaign designed to cast you in a new light. At the center of it would be an in-depth profile of you in a national broadsheet, like the Post. You give them an all-access pass—no questions or parts of your life or business off-limits.”
That sounded like my worst nightmare. I was far from reclusive, but I liked my privacy. Though I’d never considered myself a playboy, my private life involved me getting naked with women fairly regularly. “I’m not sure that will work.”
“It’s the only thing that will—complete transparency,” she insisted. “Then we’ll build in some charity work, some corporate social responsibility. You’ll have to wine and dine some influential people in the City, but if keeping your position as CEO at Astro is important to you, I’m telling you, this is what it will take.”
Bloody Mark Alpern. If he weren’t the subject of an active police investigation, Audrey and I wouldn’t have been meeting last night and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. This was all his fault.
Assignments of blame aside, my business was at stake. I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice everything I’d worked so hard for. I’d done that once before for Mark, and it wasn’t going to happen a second time.
“Set it up,” I said.
“Consider it done,” she replied. “I have a journalist in mind who’s likely to be a little softer on you. She—”
“I’m at a wedding. I’ll expect something in my diary for Monday.” I didn’t need to know the details. This was Gretel’s opportunity to prove she was as good as everyone said she was. And if she was right, it was also my do-or-die chance to prove I was as good as I’d always believed.
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