Public Relations

Chapter 24: Brett

Growing up, I used to marvel at the way your life could be different from the start of a day to the end of it. It takes just one car crash, one phone call, one wrong sentence. One right choice, one good thing, one miracle. We get so used to our day-to-day mundane lives that we forget how they can change at the drop of a hat.

Uniquely, I found comfort in this acuteness. It was inspirational for me as a teenager to think that I could meet the right person or make the right move and set myself up for success just like that. Where others see anxiety-inducing options, I saw endless possibilities to lurch myself forward.

It's today, however, that I'm understanding the flip side of it.

I start my day with the same two things I always do: coffee and thinking of Mia. My brain has been stuck on the night we shared a few days ago like a bug encased in molasses. The memory is sticky and heavy and all-consuming. It's sugary, clogging my mouth and lungs, but I just keep plunging deeper.

I've even got her hot pink golf ball from the silly non-date tucked away in my nightstand. You know, like a psychopath.

I sip my coffee and stare at the relentless sun outside, daydreaming about bringing Mia home to Wisconsin, where the seasons would be on the cusp of changing. The weather is gorgeous this time of year and I'm overdue for a visit anyway.

It's in the midst of this bliss that my phone pings. I cringe and consider tossing it into a locked box for the day, but I know I can't do that. It's one of the major downsides of building your entire career from your phone - you're shackled to it forever.

I retrieve it from its spot beside my fridge, where I'd dumped it earlier to make myself some hot, delicious caffeine.

There's a few emails, a couple miscellaneous notifications from apps I don't use, and three messages from Jasper.

J: SOS BRO

J: CHECK THIS OUT

He's forwarded me a link under that, which pulls up the thumbnail as a preview. Avalon's pointed eyeliner jumps out at me first, followed by the headline EVERYTHING WRONG WITH BRETT ARCHER WITH PROOF!

I swear under my breath and click on the video.

It's the same format as the others, down to the overemphasized expressions and perfectly timed pauses. She's in a new location - or, really, just a new room in her excessively large house, with a white backdrop and nothing behind her. 

She lets out a long exhale through pursed, blood red lips. "I want to start by addressing my sudden absence from almost all platforms. That would be because Brett Archer's lawyers are suing me."

I notice my fingers are trembling slightly. I pause the video and find a heavy water bottle to prop my phone against, then resume the video while standing upright to give myself the opportunity to pace.

"I don't know about you guys, but I don't sue people when they're lying about me. It feels a lot like an admission of guilt in my book."

I roll my eyes hard.

"But anyway, this video isn't about that. I was trying to play right by what my lawyers are saying, but then someone got in touch with me who has been so helpful in backing me up and preventing me from being gaslit out of my own truth."

The video jumps unexpectedly, without enough time on the backend of the previous clip or the frontend of the next to provide a seamless transition. It's clear she didn't send this to her video editor - I'd imagine they have strict instructions not to allow a video like this to be published. But that's not the kind of thing to stop Avalon - clearly she'll just do it herself.