Page 85 of Handsome Devil
“I know you didn’t leak the video,” Velma said. “You said you didn’t even know it existed. I heard you. I was there in the meetings.”
“Tell that to anyone who wants to listen, which is exactly no one.”
“I’m listening,” she said simply.
I rubbed my hand over my face. This was far from my favorite subject. And I wondered when I’d be able to stop talking about it completely.
“Look. ‘Active’ or not,” I told her, “getting naked with two women I’d just met when I was stupid drunk, and I had no idea who they were, was a bad lapse in judgement. I’m too high-profile for that. I’ve got too much riding on my reputation. And we live in a time of web leaks, viral social media and cancel culture. I get that.” I really, truly did. It was a mistake that might’ve cost me everything I had. Namely my name.Davenport; the family name I was born into, and everything that went along with it. “But we’re multi-billionaires, Velma. It’s not like we’ve never been targets before. We’ll be targets again. We have lawsuits pending against us all the time. It’s the nature of the beast. We live with targets on our backs.”
“But this particular attack is very personal, Dane. And very damning. It cuts straight to your integrity. It’s an attack on your character.”
It was. And these things were sacrosanct in my family.
“I mean, people emailed links of the video to your mother and your grandmother. It could’ve gone viral. You’re fucking lucky it didn’t.”
“Yeah.” I really preferred to block that part out.
“What came of the meeting with your grandmother?” she asked me. “The private meeting you had with her before you left town. Am I allowed to know?”
“I told her I wanted to apologize, publicly. To take responsibility for my actions.” I did. Even though I’d done nothing wrong other than the poor, drunken judgment. “But she wouldn’t allow it.”
“Why?”
“She said it would be ‘a public admission of guilt.’ She prefers to fork out an obscene amount of cash to try to make the problem go away. And sendmeaway.”
“It’s only for a few days, Dane.”
“We’ll see.”
At the end of that conversation with my grandmother, she’d told me that there were places I was needed, and her office wasn’t one of them. In other words, she wanted me out of her face while she very possibly considered disowning me. Or at least, she wanted me to think that she might.
And she was stone cold about it.
Did I say she was God in my world? I meant Satan.
I loved Helena Davenport. I really did. She was my grandmother. She and my grandfather had built a massive media conglomerate out of almost nothing, but she never forgot where she came from. Unlike myself, she knew the name of every person who worked at the corporate compound. Upon completion of their first week of work, she invited every new hire for a formal tea in her office to discuss their goals at the company—whether they were a C-suite executive or janitorial staff. And she never failed to give credit where credit was due.
But the woman’s scorn could burn with the force of a thousand hellfires.
“Okay, let’s move on,” Velma said. “Review our agenda for tonight. We’re almost there. So, I run interference with your mother and other gala guests as needed. I make you look good. Anything else?”
“I just want her to know I’ve been working here, and taking the situation seriously. That I haven’t become… you know, some asshole who only cares about sex and money.”
Velma’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
Wait. Was I that asshole?
“Okay,” she said. “Then maybe this agency situation can help your case? You’ve gotten really cozy at that office. Everyone’s noticed it. Wiley is completely baffled about why you’d want to work there for any matter of time when you could just work out of the penthouse. Your mother will expect there to be a reason for it. And a result. Maybe this could be a small passion project? Something you’ve taken a personal interest in. To show you care about the people who work for you? Gotta be honest, Dane. That’s one thing about your reputation that precedes you.”
“What?”
“Lack of caring. You come across as cold. I mean, obviously, you care,” she amended. “I know that. I know what goes into your work day. Other people don’t, really. You’ve made a lot of money for this company. But maybe that’s not enough, given the current… circumstances.”
I took that in. “Go on.”
“Maybe if your mother sees that you truly care about this… about your reputation, about the family, about the people who work for the family… it will help her see the bigger picture. Focus on the future instead of this current shit show. You know, like what happens when we all get through this. Together.”
“Right.” Was that even possible? While the media and the world at large just kept chattering on about the sex tape? It was still trending, every time I checked. And surely, our PR team—and, of course, people like Bradley at head office, who were enjoying this from the sidelines—were keeping my mother apprised. “That sounds great. But I really don’t expect to save my reputation or my relationship with my mother in a single night. I just want her to know I’m paying attention. And I do care.”
