Graham was sitting at his desk, looking at his laptop with a frown, his hands clenched under his chin.
“What the hell’s going on?” I asked, walking to his desk with my hands out, more than a little agitated. “Becky practically dragged me into the building and threw me into the elevator. Is the world coming to an end and nobody’s bothered to tell me?”
“You’re closer than you think,” Graham replied, turning his laptop so I could see the screen. He clicked on a YouTube video and adjusted the volume. My eyes shot went wide even before my brain told them to.
There was Chad in the middle of Vittorio’s, hovering over Mark, screaming at the maître d’ and waiters who were trying to stop him. Behind him, I saw myself racing out of the restaurant. The title of the video was, “Dirty Book Writer’s Dream Date Beats Down Innocent Dinner Guest”.
On the sidebar of similar videos were even more of the same, taken by other patrons from different angles. My name, along with Chad’s, was listed in the title of several of them.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled, sitting down heavily in one of the twin chairs placed in front of Graham’s desk. The video was on a loop, and I watched everything happen three times before looking away. I closed my eyes and let my head sink in my hands, suddenly understanding why everyone had been staring at me in the lobby.
“Graham, I’m so sorry,” I started, but he stopped me with his hand in the air between us.
“Your private life is none of my business,” Graham said formally, his voice far from the friendly, I’m-here-for-you attitude I had always gotten. “But when your private life becomes public, well, you become a reflection of this company, and right now, we look like shit.”
“I was having dinner with a friend and Mark –”
“With Chad Walters,” Graham cut in.
I nodded. “Yes, with Chad Walters. Mark just walked up and started making a scene. He was drunk and—”
“Making a scene? Whatever Mark was doing, it was definitely not making a scene. This…” Graham said, pointing at the video, “this is making a scene.”
“I didn’t know that was going to happen,” I said, weakly. “Mark kept pushing, saying awful things, Chad was simply protecting my honor.”
“That’ not good enough, Zoe.” Graham shook his head in frustration. “I can’t sell an excuse like that.”
“Sell it to who?”
“The publisher,” he said, hands in the air. “The big guy at the end of the hall who has to okay everything we do.”
I blinked at him with tears in my eyes. “You mean like the Costa Rica trip.”
“Yes. The Costa Rica trip. The contract for your next book. Whether or not to keep you under contract.”
“You’re saying…”
“I’m saying it could all go away,” he said with a heavy sigh. He shook his head at me as if I were a petulant child.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. I put my hands in my lap and kneaded my fingers together. “What can I do to fix this? What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re not purposefully trying to fuck up your life and career for starters,” Graham said, his tone walking the line between anger and frustration. “Jesus, Zoe, do you now realize how many people are affected by your actions? How could you be so fucking careless?”
“I was having dinner,” I said, wanting to yell but knowing it wouldn’t help. I was taken aback by his reaction, shocked, frowning in disbelief at his sudden outburst. Never in all the years I had known him had he spoken to me in such a way. If I hadn’t known he was gay I would have sworn that he was jealous.
“You’ve put me in a very difficult position,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. It seemed to drain the anger from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to explode at you.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said, feeling lousy for putting him in the position of having to defend me to the publisher. “Honestly, I had no idea that was going to happen.”
“I know,” Graham sighed, ruffling his hair and leaning back in the chair to give me an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry,” he said, pursing his lips. “Who you see is none of my business. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“Is this about Chad Walters,” I asked. “Are you upset that I went to dinner with him?”
“You’ve told me about him in the past,” Graham said with a shrug. “You just get out of this mess with Mark, then this guy shows up and all hell breaks loose. I just want what’s best for you, Zoe, and I don’t either of these assholes will do. You’re a great writer, but your taste in men is absolute crap.”
“That’s… sweet,” I said with a smile. “I guess. So, what happens now?”
“Now, we do damage control,” Graham said, blowing out his cheeks and leaning forward. “I know you were innocent in this mess, but you know this business. It?