[Chapter 26: High-End Public Relations]
"Here's your large Coke."
At the front desk, the waiter placed the biggest cup of Coke on the counter.
Amanda picked up the Coke, removed the lid, and took a sip.
Right behind her, Sasha approached the counter and said to the waiter, "I'd like a large Coke, the biggest one, no ice, please."
Amanda hurriedly walked along the aisle toward her boss, just like an ordinary passerby.
Hawke heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor and glanced over.
"Ten thousand dollars!" Caroline said, her red lips moving enticingly as she tried to catch Hawke's attention with a high offer.
It was at that moment that Amanda came closer.
She glanced at Hawke's laptop, and with her knowledge of electronics, she quickly assessed the position of the hard drive.
Meanwhile, Sasha took a roundabout way, coming from the other side. As soon as Amanda initiated her move, she would make a grab for the camera bag.
The rookie clearly lacked experience, bringing both the camera and the laptop with him.
Public relations was not just about sparring with words or manipulating the media; it also involved burying the evidence!
First things first, eliminate the people or problems at hand, and the issues would resolve themselves.
Amanda adjusted her steps, nearing Hawke's table, and lifted the Coke, intending to take a sip.
But it seemed she had stepped on something; her foot slipped, and she fell toward Hawke, the Coke threatening to spill.
A large hand suddenly reached out, slapping her arm.
Amanda's arm swung out of control, sending the nearly-full cup of Coke flying.
Most of the drink landed on Caroline's face and chest, soaking her hair and turning her shirt transparent, revealing a glimpse of black and the outline of her curves.
Hawke pushed Amanda's arm aside with one hand and quickly moved the laptop out of the way. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned abruptly and smiled at Sasha several meters away.
That smile appeared warm but sent a chill down Sasha's spine, as if he might pull a gun at any moment.
Sasha subconsciously halted, afraid to take another step forward.
Seeing her boss drenched in Coke, Amanda said, "I'm... I'm sorry..."
Hawke put the laptop away and slung the camera bag over his shoulder.
"You must compensate for my losses!" Caroline wiped the Coke from her face and placed her soaked Hermes bag on the table, pointing to the Chanel logo on her chest, "These, you couldn't even pay for with your whole life!"
Amid her embarrassment, she hadn't forgotten her job and pulled out her phone: "I'll call the police..."
"Go ahead," Hawke interrupted her directly, glancing between the two Coke-dripping women, "The media and public are surely interested in your relationship. I believe LAPD would have no trouble finding out."
Caroline slowly stood up, the Coke running down her skin and clothes.
"Whether you call or not is up to you." Hawke walked out, shouldering his bag.
Once he left the restaurant, Amanda quickly grabbed napkins to wipe the stains off Caroline.
Caroline waved her hand dismissively: "Let's go."
Sasha and Amanda followed behind.
People around cast glances and whispered.
Reaching the car, Caroline took out a towel to wipe off the mess from her head, then pulled out a brand-new Chanel coat to change into in the vehicle.
Sasha asked, "What's our next move?"
"This side can't be contained. I have a feeling that jerk never intended to let it go for money," Caroline buttoned up her coat and stated. "Next, we'll apply pressure on the media to force the client to buy back the photographs. Also, be prepared to minimize the negative impact if it gets exposed."
She summed it up: "We made a mistake this time; we underestimated him. That jerk isn't a beginner."
Sasha quickly apologized: "I'm sorry."
Caroline wasn't disheartened; public relations meant dealing with countless messy situations, many of which could be hopeless and turn the work into futility.
She clapped her hands: "Let's get to work!"
Sasha and Amanda split up to make calls, communicating with the media and involved parties.
Caroline opened her Hermes bag, finding the lining soaked in Coke, and the mini recorder was completely ruined. Her Sony phone was also unusable.
The losses were significant.
As for her own disarray, she didn't need to look to know how bad it was.
Caroline muttered a few choice words, grabbed the backup phone in the car, and called James.
"You did a great job! We agreed on ten minutes, but you messed up my business in less than five!" James sounded furious. "You're leaving me in a tough spot -- now the other side refuses to make a deal, and you must compensate me!"
Caroline shot back: "Compensate? You want me to spread my legs? I guarantee to leave you the last two shots!"
"Don't forget to let me in on any insider info." James conceded, cooling off slightly before hanging up.
...
On the other side, Hawke got into his car, secured the camera bag and laptop, and took a quick look at the storage drive in the glove box.
With news like this, never mind making just a few copies and storing them separately; one had to be careful.
James called again at that moment.
Hawke answered, "Sorry, we agreed on five minutes -- well, that time has passed, and I have other newspaper appointments."
In this tier of entertainment news, it was somewhat a seller's market, and James hurriedly said, "Five thousand dollars, I want the news."
"I've already made arrangements, so just wait for my call." Hawke didn't shut the door completely.
Arriving at the agreed location, due to the recent mishap, he didn't enter the cafe but had the other party come out to talk in the car.
Two minutes later, Jerry from the National Enquirer, sporting a beard, got in.
They exchanged brief self-introductions, and Hawke turned his prepared laptop toward Jerry, showing him the recorded content.
Jerry was impressed: "This is very clear, quite visual."
Hawke stated directly, "A nominated Oscar best actor, the leading lady from a smash-hit TV series, and an Emmy Award-nominated best actress; the man has a wife, and the woman has a husband -- there's plenty of intrigue."
Jerry recognized its value; just the image of the man and woman half-naked together could significantly boost tomorrow's newspaper sales.
After a moment's consideration, he said, "Five thousand dollars."
Hawke closed the laptop: "Don't kid around; you might underestimate me, but you can't undervalue this news -- it will create a stir across the nation."
Jerry asked, "How much do you want?"
Hawke went for a high asking price: "Fifteen thousand dollars."
"If the people in the photos were top-tier Hollywood stars, I could offer twenty thousand." Jerry reasoned: "Downey is at best a secondary star, already tangled in scandals -- another one won't shock readers. Sarah Parker is indeed popular, but don't forget, she's just a TV actress."
Hawke had another angle to add: "You may not know, the producer of Downey's new film The Singing Detective is none other than Sarah Parker's husband, Matthew Broderick. You don't need me to tell you how hot Sex and the City was? She received an Emmy nomination for best actress last year!"
He continued, "I also noticed that Downey is interested in the Gothika project, which Matthew Broderick is also one of the producers! When you add those together, the chain reaction..."
The weight of the photos suddenly increased in Jerry's mind, prompting him to pull out his phone and call the most knowledgeable person at the newspaper to verify. It didn't take long for him to get an answer.
The National Enquirer was a leading publication across the U.S. with a vast readership, one of the biggest gossip magazines in North America.
As long as the news had value, they could afford the price, and Jerry pocketed his phone, extending a single finger: "Ten thousand dollars, sign an exclusive news agreement."
"Deal." Hawke added, "This news must go to print, rather than getting buried."
Jerry said, "We buy it to make sure it hits the front page."
*****
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