I want to choke Cameron Dane, slash Fabian Bianchi's tires, and most absolutely I want to set fire to the Golden fucking Maison. If not for all three working against me I could be sipping mojitos in Cuba. God I could use a drink or a witness protection program.
"Lennox. Hey-have you seen, woah," Cameron approaches my window, which I should have rolled up. "Why are you leaving so soon, what's the rush?"
"If we weren't in public right now, I would choke you with my bare hands until you turn blue." The lopsided grin he gave me only added fuel to the fire. He thinks everything is a damn joke, he doesn't ever care about everything we have to lose. "What the hell is so entertaining. Did you know Fabian asked me about the Maison today?" The lazy smile he previously wore faded very quickly. Serves the smartass right. "I got him to drop it, for now at least but you need to be on your best behavior." It feels like I babysit this grown ass man more than anything else.
"Alright Lennox. I couldn't do any of this without you." His face full of terror reminded me of when we were kids. At that time all we did was run in the backyard and pinch each other at galas. I'm not sure when the world caved in on those two kids we were back then. Small moments turned into adult decisions and sacrifices. My entire life has been speeding by me. My brother is the star of the family and I'm nothing more than an extension of the Klein name. Putting out other people's crises' and fires. At one point it felt like a conviction. What I did mattered and I was proving myself to who and about what I don't know. Now it just feels like my failures are staring me in the face. Mocking me for being nothing more than what I am. God I wish I didn't deserve it but I do. One last client, one last client, one last client.
That is the thought that gets me through each day that seems even more insufferable than the previous. I wish this started the moment I met Fabian Bianchi. But, no, this immense darkness cascading over my life started when Cameron asked me to help him out at the Golden Maison. I don't even know why he would willingly involve me in that trepidation. Hadn't I been a good friend to him all these years? To possibly jeopardize me just seemed cruel. Selfish. I knew better to expect anything more from Cameron, if I ever do it is my fault because I know better. A man like himself never cares for anyone but themselves.
"That's what you do for your friends. That's how you keep them. This world is about connections, honey. That is a risk of this world." I could practically hear my mother humming these words to me. As the days go on I can't help but think that this world is a metaphor for this elitist world. Or I'm just projecting. Either way I can't exactly pinpoint when I finally succumbed to this idea my mother had banged into my head but it seems she's succeeded.
Unlike other areas of my life in this particular one Chanel Klein isn't the cause of this. She isn't to blame for the fact that I am involved with one of the biggest scandals in the media right now. I answered the call that night knowing Cameron Dane would be wrapped in some bullshit. I just didn't know how deep Cameron could get himself into something so heinous. Worse yet, how quickly I cleaned up the mess. What type of person does that? Where is your humanity? Compassion? Goodness? Those same questions plague me day in and out, hours upon hours. All I want is a break from the guilt, from the remorse, and some days the lack of it. Life doesn't work that way and no matter how many times I close my eyes I could never scrub that night from memory. As the saying goes there's no rest for the wicked. Apparently in this life I'm Elphaba. I'm not sure who is more in the wrong. Cameron or I, but I do know we are bad people. We aren't heroes or warriors, we're the people that would do anything to keep their position in life.
If the pulsating regret I had was not enough to shake me, Jackson Dane waiting in my office is. Cameron is the spitting image of his father, the only difference being how Jackson is clearly older than Cameron. "Lennox, it's all over the media. They're mocking my son like Trump Jr." The hardness in his voice shakes me to my core. Externally I keep as calm of a composure as I can. He's no worse than a shark, any hint of blood and I was a goner.
"Mr.Dane, the best reaction in these cases is no reaction. If you respond they will think he was actually there. Soon enough the next big story will come out." His blue eyes soften likely reasoning with my explanation.
"Lennie," so conveniently how he now uses my nickname now "I suppose you're absolutely right. Cameron always finds a way to shove his foot in his mouth. I'm just worried one day it will catch up to him." Funny how he thinks it hasn't happened already. Men in power always think they've gotten away before they have.
"If he could stay out of trouble long enough to win the election this would all go over much smoother. There is only so much that I can do."
He dismisses my words with a stiff nod. If ever anyone on earth was a jackass it would be Jackson Dane. "I will have a talk with him and perhaps another round of media training." He rolls up his sleeves and slouches into his chair. "Now how has the deal with the Bianchi's been shaping up since the incident?"
I take my time with the response, as it's a delicate situation. On one hand the Bianchi's know that Cameron was involved in the Maison fiasco. It's evident he's a liability. On the other hand they know all of this because of me. Admitting that to Jackson Dane would ruin so many things, my career, my brother's, and my fathers. We would become a mockery, blackballed and exiled out of society. That's how much power this man has.
My only option is to be vague, and elusive. "They've asked some questions. I'm sure you can understand that as Cameron's name is all through the media. I would be concerned if they didn't." Jackson grunts a response, out of understanding or apprehension. I'm not sure. "I've steered them away from asking anymore. For now at least."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Tension swarms the air like bees in the summer. No matter what I said I would have him on the defense. Staring at his cold blue eyes makes the reality all that much more real.
"It means if Cameron keeps getting himself involved in crises there will be nothing you or I can do to keep the Bianchi's on board." A belly deep laugh explodes, laughter shakes his body, his arm slung over the side of the chair. "The Bianchi's are lucky to work with us."
"Be that as it may, we need them just as much. If not more, switching backing at this point would ruin the entire campaign. People are already starting to lose their credibility in Cameron. We haven't even started the official touring yet."
Jackson Dane doesn't even look as if he hears what I'm saying. Smugness is rubbed all over his face. "Don't worry, we've won." He kisses my cheek as he always has before leaving my office. Dealing with one Dane was bad enough. Dealing with two was just downright traumatizing. Tequila was needed. A gallon preferably.
I tried to ignore the phone ringing off the walls. Just one second, it's all I wanted. A moment to breathe. From the time I woke up this morning I have been subjected to others bidding. My focus on the press conference, burying Cameron's indiscretions, and calming Jackson. My entire nervous system was on the verge of a breakdown. And now the damn phone won't stop.Somebody better be in the hospital or in a casket.
"Hello," I answered my phone just as the last ring approached.
"Good evening Ms.Klein." Fucking Fabian and that richly deep voice. "Don't you just sound lovely."
"Satan, I don't have much time, what do you want?" Deep and full. That's what his laugh sounds like.
"We need to do some damage control don't you think? And save the "I told you" bullshit to yourself."
"Fine. But knowing that you know I'm right is all the vindication I need."
"I'll make sure to put that on a plaque." I abhor this man. Even if his laugh makes me flame up. "Kids of the World is hosting a charity event to raise funds for orphanages and national foster care, Dane needs to be there. Put on a good face, get back in the public's good graces without overdoing it. Only photo's should be taken inside the event not outside, we don't want him to look like a schmooze." Even if he is a schmooze. "Yes Lennox, even if he is one."
"I said that aloud huh?"
"Absolutely, and I couldn't agree with you more. When you both get to the event I have arranged for Cameron to have some surprise remarks."
"I will get those written and sent to you." I rush to end the conversation. Desperately I want to get rid of him talking to me in that voice. I don't want to think of what other things he could say to me. He is not the man I should want, no, he is the man that I loathe for roping me here longer than I want. "Perfect. What are your plans for rushing our riveting conversation?"
"Aside from me not wanting to speak to you?" All he does is grunt. "I'm going to have a drink at the bar and then go home. Not very interesting, now bye."
This would be the part where I hang up. Slam the phone down without his reply. Weakness creeps over me and I just don't. I hang onto the phone waiting for something, literally any response.
"Lennox," why did he say my name so tenderly? As if it were precious. Delicate. "be safe. Watch your surroundings."
"Thanks for the reminder dad."
"Goodnight Little Lennox"
"Hell will freeze before you ever call-hello?"
He hung up on me?! I promise I will make Fabian Bianchi's life absolutely miserable. The minute I think we can be cordial, friendly even, he finds a way to wind me up. It's as if he's picked annoying me to become his personal sport. Little Lennox my ass.