The Herd(14)
It clicked: She’d called me because she needed her publicist. “Got it. Well, we can talk about ways to mitigate the damage, but I don’t think this is going to be a big story. We can write a statement for your blog and put it on the Herd’s site: ‘This proves that, now more than ever, women need spaces like only we can provide, you know you’re doing it right when you’re pissing people off,’ that kind of thing.” I shrugged. “People might sort of love it. That discrimination lawsuit just made those men look whiny and pathetic. Gave us a huge surge in applications.”
She shook her head. “I need it not to run.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The Herd can’t have bad press right now,” Eleanor said. “The big announcement next week? This just looks too bad. It shows we can’t keep criminals out of our coworking spaces, for one thing.” She futzed with the clasp of her earring. “And also, just associating us with the C-word. In bubble letters. The timing could not be more terrible.”
“Sweetie, there’s never a great time for a hit piece.” I crossed my ankles. “This announcement—you’re supposed to fill me in by Friday so I have time to prep the press release. I think you’re gonna have to tell me early.”
“I can’t. Legally, I can’t tell anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. “I mean, I won’t tell anyone you told me today. I’m a freaking publicist, I’m a vault of sellable secrets.”
“Let’s just stay focused on how we can kill this story.” Eleanor’s eyes were pleading. “Joanna said it’s scheduled to go live at eleven.”
I chewed my lip. “Was it a contractor who did it in Fort Greene? Who even has access to the site?”
“It’s a construction site—anyone can access it.” She composed herself. “The police are investigating; I’m not asking you to crack the case. The Gaze article is the immediate issue here.”
I nodded, thinking. “Tell me about the announcement. Off the record. I think I know how to make this go away.”
Eleanor stared at the floor for a moment, then sighed. “Titan Industries is acquiring the Herd.” She smiled. “It’s an industry first. It’ll be huge for the company—for all of us. The biggest technology company in the world is buying us out but still letting us run the company. Oh, the resources we’ll have access to, and the ways we’ll be able to expand globally…” She trailed off and looked at me expectantly.
I blinked at her. “Wow. When did you decide this?”
“They first approached me in the spring.”
Why didn’t you tell me? formed in my throat, and I swallowed it. “Does Mikki know?”
“No one does.” She flapped her hand. “Legality.”
I looked away, nodded slowly. “Well, we can use this. It’s big.”
“Unprecedented. Front-page-of-the-Times big.”
“Front page of the Business section,” I corrected her. I pushed the laptop back across the coffee table. “We’re gonna give The Gaze an exclusive on Tuesday’s announcement. They’ll break the news the moment the event begins. They might want a twenty-four-hour exclusive, which everyone else in the media will hate. Other journalists might refuse to come.”
She nodded. “That’s fine. I just can’t let the Herd take a beating before Tuesday’s announcement.”
“And I have carte blanche to barter with anything I can? Exclusive interviews, maybe future Q&A’s, even personal photos? Eleanor, before she was a star?”
This was a litmus test—even I had barely seen any childhood photos of her, and I’d been to her parents’ house countless times. She scrunched her nose. “Yes. But don’t lead with that.”
“Obviously. Okay, I need the number of your friend there.” I pulled my phone out of my purse. “And I’m charging you time and a half now.”
* * *
—
Such is the curse of crisis PR: If you’re good at your job, no one knows you intervened. I’m like a goalie, unsung unless I really screw up. It took every persuasion technique in the book to convince Joanna, a nervous-sounding woman with a bell-like voice, to bring my offer to her editor, but then she agreed, as I knew she would, and at 10:43 p.m. Monday evening, I put the deal in writing.
“There you go,” I called to Cosmo, who was splayed indecently on the rug near my feet. “All taken care of.” I reached for his furry haunches and he flopped like a fish.
The Gaze interview would go well, because all interviews with Eleanor went well. She was the kind of client publicists dreamed about: eloquent, beautiful, speaking in tight sound bites and giving every camera the just-right pose and smile. Only a handful of us saw how it exhausted her sometimes, how her face dimmed like an extinguished candle once her back was turned. We understood it, sympathized—what woman, dabbing a layer of pleasantness onto every interaction and sprinkling exclamation points into emails to remain eminently palatable, wouldn’t? But I didn’t envy Eleanor this part of the job.
Cosmo arched himself into a crescent shape, stretching his velvety legs, and I stood to find a cat toy to dangle his way. I had to admit: convincing Joanna, calmly listening and mirroring like a skilled hostage negotiator as I nudged the conversation onto its track…it was a rush. And Eleanor’s big announcement next week—the media would eat it up. I did wonder how the Herd community would react. Resources were great, but there was something cozy about being privately owned.