Something To Talk About: Friendship Texas, #6

By Magan Vernon

Mary James is the firms toughest client. The sexy Hollywood accent turned pariah after a leaked sex tape surfaced. One she claims is totally fake.

If I want to move up to associate in my PR firm, I have to take her on as a client.

The two of us figure the easiest way to help her is simple: a fake relationship.

But what happens when something fake gets to be too real and fame gets involved?

Each book in the Friendship, Texas series is a STANDALONE
*Edge of Glory
*Rumor Has It
*Meet Virginia
*Part of Me
*The One That Got Away
*Something to Talk About
*Love Like Crazy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magan Vernon
• Release date: Sep 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386380191

Magan Vernon

Magan Vernon has been living off of reader tears since she wrote her first short story in 2004. She now spends her time killing off fictional characters, pretending to plot while she really just watches Netflix, and she tries to do this all while her two young children run amuck around her Texas ranch.

Book preview

Text copyright© 2018 by Magan Vernon

All rights reserved

www.maganvernon.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

For information visit www.maganvernon.com

Summary:  On the heels of Mary James leaked sex tape - totally a fake one to make her boyfriend jealous she might add- she needs some PR help if she doesn't want her acting career to end up in a fiery hell like her love life.

Chris Garcia has been working his way up from mailroom clerk to junior associate at Creato PR and now to get to the next rung of the corporate ladder he has to take on the firm's toughest client: Mary James.

With a little help from a nosey Aunt Teresa and Mama Garcia, the two decide the best way to move forward is simple: a fake relationship.

But what happens when something fake gets to be too real and gives everybody something to talk about?

Second Edition, July 2018

Cover Design by Kassi Snider https://kassicoop.com/

Edited by Jenny Sims

For more information about the author:

Website: www.maganvernon.com

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/maganvernon

Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/authormaganvernon

Twitter: www.twitter.com/maganvernon

Newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/qIJA5

#FEELTHEVERN (Reader Group): http://on.fb.me/1lVsZEo

For anyone who has ever felt like their past had to define their future.

Prologue

Eight Months Earlier

Mary

Cringing, but unable to look away, I stared at the computer screen my publicist opened. I knew the video he was showing all too well.

I was sandwiched between my bodyguard and his boyfriend, both wearing their cop costumes from the previous Halloween. There wasn’t any penetration, of course. I was an actress, albeit not the best one since I kept getting snubbed for an Emmy, but I knew how to make it look good enough for a fake sex tape to make my now ex-fiancé jealous. I didn’t think my email would get hacked and the thing would go viral, everyone thinking the entire thing was real.

This is a PR nightmare; you know that, right Mary? Fuck. How the hell are we going to explain this one away? My publicist, Jerry, raked his fingers through his graying comb-over.

"At least Vamps in The City can’t fire her if they do they’ll forego the ten million dollar contract," my agent, Murray said, running his hands over the stubble on his chin. Stubble was being kind; the redhead had a few patches on his chin and cheeks that were the same color as his crazy curls.

Yeah, but you know as well as I do that they could easily cut her character’s part down and force her into quitting. Jerry sighed. This is a PR nightmare. At least when it was that socialite in the early 2000s, she got ahead of the game and sold the tape herself. This was a job by some freaking hacker because you can’t keep your email or phone secured, Mary.

You know what? I don’t need a publicist or some kind of recon. I can revamp my image all on my own. Standing up, I grabbed my Balenciaga bag from the table, tossing it over my shoulder and pushing my newly dyed ombre hair over my shoulder.

What do you think you’re doing? Jerry asked, the sweat glistening off his forehead in the fluorescent lights of the conference room.

I’m firing you, Jerry, I said, smirking in his direction then turned to Murray. Come on, Murray. Who needs a PR person anyway?

Chapter 1

Six Months later

Chris

––––––––

Garcia, office. Now!

I pressed send on the email I had opened and straightened my tie. Last time my manager called me into his office was to introduce me to the new intern last summer. The intern who I happened to hook up with the night before and didn’t get her number. The same hookup and intern who happened to be his fresh-out-of-high-school daughter. If she was in a club and had a rack like that, there was no way to tell her age or who her dad was.

Yes, sir, I said, popping out of my cubicle.

My roommate and co-worker, Danny, whispered, dead man walking as I strolled by his desk and I shot him a glare before running my fingers through my dark brown hair. My fade was starting to grow out, and I needed to see a barber, but things were a lot more expensive in the city than Jersey so I’d probably end up having one of my other two roommates do a quick buzz.

Yes, sir, I said, walking into Mr. Davis’ corner office with the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a view of the Hudson.

Close the door and have a seat, Mr. Davis said, already at his desk with his reading glasses perched on his nose and his eyes trained on his computer.

Yes, sir, I nodded, swallowing hard before shutting the door and then walking the few steps to sit in the uncomfortable leather chair across from him.

I sat up as straight as I could, folding my hands on my lap. I’d been working at Creato PR since I graduated high school. I came to New York and lived in a youth hostel while I tried to become a model. It turns out every brown boy that comes to the city to be a model doesn’t always make it, so I had the backup of working as a janitor. Over the years, I worked my way up from janitor to mail room clerk to assistant to the assistant to just plain assistant and now finally to junior associate. This basically meant I did the bitch work that the senior associates didn’t want to do. Most people bitched about it, but my Instagram game was strong at 100,000 followers, and I had a good knack for doing clients branding.

In the early days I thought it could help me get discovered, now, after ten years in the city, I was just ready to get to the next level at Creato PR and a paycheck that would get me my own place without three roommates who made it very hard when I brought in an overnight guest. Or well a few hour-long guest at least.

Mr. Davis typed a few things on his computer, not even looking at me. Remember a few months ago when you asked if you could take the lead on the Morningstar account?

I nodded. Yes, sir. You said I wasn’t ready, but since then I’ve been working extra hard, proving myself with working on the social media branding for two of Morningstar’s swimming sponsors, including that big sportswear company.

I was a little bitter that some old ass dude who didn’t even know who Olympic superstar, Jay Morningstar was, got the account and I just had to handle the social media, but I let it roll off my shoulders and worked extra hard to make sure my part kicked ass.

Well, you’re in luck, kid, because we have a new client that could use someone with your go-getter attitude. I’m giving you the lead on this account, Mr. Davis said, barely glancing at me.

I tried to hide my enthusiasm, even though I wanted to start dancing in the middle of his office, I just nodded instead. Thanks, sir. I won’t let you down.

He smirked. Good, you’re meeting her tonight. My secretary already made reservations at that tapas place down the street.

Dinner? Her?

Okay, sir. I’ll get with your secretary to get the details. Thank you, I said, standing up and putting my hand out for Mr. Davis to shake.

He didn’t even smile as he stood up, giving me a rough handshake. Keep from fucking this up, and you could be moving out of that cubicle.

I forced a smile. I won’t let you down.

Walking out of his office with a little bit more of a spring in my step, I swung around the corner to Mrs. Johnson’s desk. The woman was middle-aged and reminded me of my Aunt Teresa, who was the assistant to one of the CEOs. Though Mrs. Johnson was more like Mrs. Brady than Auntie Teresa and her Latin temper that she liked to let out on one of her six kids or me when I was out of line.

"Hey, Mrs. Johnson, I’m supposed to