Scandal Awaiting in the Wings

My morning hangover is just as awful as I expected. My head hasn’t stopped throbbing since I woke up. It takes all my willpower to drag myself out of bed, down some medicine, chug a hangover cure from the fridge, and get on the road.

By the time I pick up Mia, the headache has thankfully dulled a little.

“Hey,” I greet her. “Did you get home okay? Sorry about last night.”

I notice a faint flush in her cheeks as she smiles and says everything went fine. I wonder if she’s going through the same thing.

“How about you? I’ve never seen you that drunk before!” she says.

Neither have I. Was I so stressed I just forgot to eat all day? Terrible choice.

“I could definitely be feeling better, but I’ll manage,” I say. “Did I do anything worse than bawling my eyes out in front of the entire cast?”

Mia giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

“No, you managed to keep that much grace!”

Thank goodness for that.

We chat about the night as I drive her to her nail appointment. I ask multiple times how the rest of her night went, but she either dodges the question or answers vaguely. I don’t remember her drinking much, but I know she doesn’t handle alcohol well. Maybe she’s too embarrassed to admit she doesn’t remember? I let it go—it’s not my job to know everything—and instead go over plans for the day before dropping her off.

Mia hasn’t had an easy day like this in a while. I have a few things to grab back at the office, and this is a good chance to finalize my intern picks. Maybe I can finally replace these awful shoes.

I make my way to the desk I haven’t used much since covering for Fujimoto. I’m only here to pick up scripts for Mia’s readings—but my heart leaps into my throat when I see something that shouldn’t be there: a photograph, neatly placed in front of my monitor, of a familiar balcony... featuring Renji Kubo and me. The angle is perfect—tilted just enough to make it look like we’re sharing an intimate kiss.

Oh no. No, no, no.

I snatch up the photo for a closer look.

No matter how I tilt it, the contents don’t change. I remember that moment vividly—my ear even tingles at the memory of where his breath hit. He was whispering to me, not kissing me! But no matter how I look at it, the photographer did an excellent job. We look like we're kissing. 

"Satou-san?" 

I turn to see Yoshida’s secretary, Abe, walking toward me. He glances down at the photo in my hand, then back at me with a sympathetic expression. Oh, great. It’s getting worse.

"Abe-san..." I manage, unable to think of anything else to say. I can already guess why he’s here.

“Yoshida-san would like to see you in his office.”

There it is.

“Got it…” I say, following him through the hall.

Abe opens the door for me, and I step inside. Before the door closes, Abe quietly returns to his desk in the small reception area just outside. I turn my attention to the room: Yoshida sits at his desk, Kubo occupies one of the armchairs, and his manager, Ito, stands off to the side.

"Have a seat, Satou-kun," Yoshida says.

I quickly sit on the opposite couch. On Yoshida’s desk are more photos—shots from the balcony, one from the cafe, even a few from the parking garage. My panic flares as I look up at Kubo who's maintaining an even expression. How is he not freaking out right now?

"This is bad, right?" I ask. 

Yoshida laces his fingers together and tilts his head thoughtfully.

"It's not good...but it could be worse," he says.

Oh god, it's really bad.

“This is my fault, sir. I thought I’d taken precautions, but I clearly wasn’t careful enough,” Kubo says.

"You can say that, Kubo-kun, but that doesn't change the result." Ito sighs and rubs his forehead.

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble…” I say, bowing in my seat, clutching the scripts to my chest. "What...do we do now?"  

One scandal is all it really takes to bring a celebrity down. Even someone like Kubo isn’t immune to the fickleness of public opinion. It would be one thing if he’d been caught with an actress who frequents the pages of those magazines. But a photo like this with a random nobody? Best case, I’ll never be able to show my face in public again. Worst case, we issue a public apology and I lose my job. I’ve seen people get sacked for far less.

“There are several ways we can handle this,” Yoshida says. “The story will be published tomorrow. We received these photos as a courtesy, but there's nothing we can do to stop what’s coming.”

"Right..." I say. I'm gonna lose my job, I'm gonna lose my job, I'm gonna lose my job.

"Thankfully, we do have these. They just cleared final edits and production."

Yoshida turns his monitor to reveal the results from Diome’s shoot. He clicks through shots of Mia, Kubo, and me, stopping on one of just the two of us—him leaning over me, both of us staring into the camera, the perfume bottle cradled in my hands above my head. Yoshida holds up one of the printed photos beside the screen, and I can clearly see that I’m the same woman in both.

“This is probably your best chance of getting through this,” Yoshida explains. “Hartlock has signed a new model who’s currently being mentored directly by Kubo-kun.”

Yes—but no!

"That could work..." Ito says.

Stop thinking about it, please!

The story checks out: a PR stunt. A way to generate buzz around their new, no-name model. It would save both Kubo’s and my reputation while still giving the tabloids and fans something to gossip about. But every cover story needs follow-through. And if I agree to this, I’ll have to actually sign on as a model. Not only that, but keep up a public pretense of being mentored by Renji Kubo?!

"What do you think, Satou-san?" Kubo asks.

I hate it. I want to run, hide, and wait for the fallout to pass in any other way.

"I..." 

“We can continue with my previous offer,” Yoshida says. “You’ll stay on as Watanabe-kun’s PA and temporary manager as usual, but you’ll also be assigned as backup talent on projects going forward. And of course, we’ll be asking Kubo-kun to take you on as his mentee.”

I glance between the three of them, though I know reading their faces won’t help.

"Could...I have a moment to think about it?" I ask.

"You don't have a m—" Ito begins, but Kubo silences him with a raised hand.

“Could she have until midday?” he asks. “That should give PR enough time to prepare for the morning.”

“Let me know by noon, Satou-kun. I’ll support whatever decision you make, alright?” Yoshida says.

I nod and thank them all quietly. I understand why Ito’s furious with me. My answer should’ve been an easy yes. Having worked with PR alongside Fujimoto for Mia, I know exactly how much work they already have ahead of them. I’m lucky this company’s even big enough to have its own PR team. But this isn’t an easy choice for me. It won’t stop at just being “backup.” I know the industry better than that. Once they have you, you’re theirs. And if you’re lucky, you’ll make a name for yourself.

If I’m lucky, I’ll just fade quietly into oblivion. Be another washed-up star. But Hartlock doesn’t produce wash-ups. Yoshida has an annoyingly sharp eye for potential. He’ll never be satisfied unless I give this everything I’ve got.

That is... if I agree.