“I knew that Jeff Taylor was a self-righteous schmuck, but I had no idea just how deep it went,” I said to the four bodies sitting around the table with me, my editorial team and so-called Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Joel, Lane, Gavin, and Nate. They’d gathered for our daily morning meeting to discuss whatever needed discussing. After my explosive appearance on The Edge last night, however, there was really only one thing on everyone’s mind. “So, now that I’ve knocked him off his pedestal, how do we totally end him?”

“Does he really need any help at this point? For Christ’s sake, last night he had a complete meltdown and walked off the job on live television,” Joel said idly as he toyed with a lock of his jet black hair, his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. “Just take the high road and let him fade away into obscurity, it’ll make us look better. Taylor’s toast, we don’t need to pile on him.”

“I don’t think his little stunt last night is enough to sink a guy pulling in more than twice the viewership of all of his competitors combined,” Lane said. “Mark my words, someone’s going to offer him another job and fast. He’s too big to fall.”

“This is why I keep you around, Lane. When Joel tries to ruin my fun, I can always count on you to have my back,” I said, jabbing my dry erase marker through the air at him before making a note on the whiteboard behind me, “Too big to fall - potential new video title?” Lane smiled at me through his auburn beard. “So, if last night won’t seal his fate, then what’s it going to take to completely ruin Taylor’s reputation?”

“A miracle,” Lane said, scratching at his beard. “Even if he goes into hiding, which he’s absolutely not going to do, he’ll always be known as the guy that said ‘screw this’ and walked off the air. People aren’t going to forget that. Some people might even praise it. Like it or not, that’s kinda fucking legendary.”

“Kile, I’m sorry, I really think you should let this go,” Joel said. “We should be drafting a statement of condemnation or something right now to really capitalize on this and spin it the right way, not trying to rub Taylor’s face in it,” Joel said.

“You’re never any fun, are you?” I asked and Joel chuckled.

“If I let you have all of the fun you wanted to, then The Flame would’ve burned down years ago,” Joel said. “Pun intended.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll take the high road—just this once,” I said and Joel let out a sigh of relief. “So, what are we going to say then? How do we do this as diplomatically as possible while still getting a few zingers off on him?”

“It won’t take much, honestly,” Lane said.

“Well, you’re the guy in charge of the written editorial around here, what do you think we should say?”

“We can say last night was a perfect example of all of the progress we still have to make and that Taylor’s reaction was yet another example of the deep-seated antagonism toward alternative lifestyles, even among members of the LGBTQ+ community,” Lane said.

“God damn you’re good, you know that?” I asked. “Even I couldn’t have come up with a better line of bullshit.”

“I’ll draft a full statement along those lines and run it by you before we put it up,” Lane said with a smile. “Should it be an editorial thing? Like, signed by the editorial staff?”

“I don’t see why not. The more voices we have backing this, the better.”

“Alright, I’ll have it to you before the end of the day,” Lane said as he collected his things and left the room, Gavin following along behind him to help craft it.

“Perfect. Now, what are we going to do about video? Should I record a personal statement for my blog?” I asked Nate, my lead video editor.

“Can’t hurt, assuming we handle it delicately. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, maybe something along the lines of feeling personally offended by Taylor’s behavior.”

“I think that could work if you don’t throw too many bombs.”

“When have I ever been known to do something like that?”

“Do you really need to post anything at all?” Joel interrupted. “Won’t the statement be enough?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Joel!” I groaned, slapping a hand against the table. “Look, this is politics we’re engaged in here. Taylor came for me personally and tried to embarrass me on national TV, I’m not going to just let that go. If you’re not willing to play dirty, fine, but at least let the rest of us get down to business.”

“Calm down, Kile. All I’m saying is maybe this isn’t the right time to get your hands dirty. You came out of last night looking like a hero, so putting out some petty video might really minimize the effect of that,” Joel said. Though it pained me to admit it, he was right. As usual.

“What do you suggest I do instead? Just sit back and watch all of this play out?” I asked.

“Yeah, exactly. You don’t need to say anything beyond the statement we’re putting out. It’ll make you look calm, collected, and professional. AKA everything a media icon should be. Whether you realize it or not, you earned yourself a whole new audience last night. You don’t want to come across as amateur to them because these are the people who’ve been watching Taylor for years. They’re open to a small amount of new thinking, but we don’t want to alienate them. You’ve got their attention for the moment and now you’ve got to keep it,” Joel said.

“If I ever forget why I keep you on staff, remind me of this moment,” I said and Joel smirked.

“I know you think I’m boring and non-confrontational but there’s a method to my madness.”

“I also think you’re not nearly as milquetoast as you want me to believe you are,” I said. “Is he fooling you, Nate?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Nate said, barely paying attention—not that I blamed him. The whole staff had developed a way of tuning Joel and me out when we were at each other’s throats, which happened pretty much daily. Joel did have a valuable sense of rationality but that rationality often conflicted with my impulses.

“What are you working on today, anyway?” I asked, interrupting whatever Joel had been in the middle of saying that I wasn’t listening to.

“I’m trying to do damage control.”

“Damage control for what? I thought you said I looked like a hero.”

“You did but you also got a small amount of criticism.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. From whom?”

“Here, see for yourself,” Joel said, turning his laptop and sliding it across the table to me. Sure enough, a long list of less-than-pleasant comments waited for me on the last article I’d posted before my appearance on The Edge. It was about the changing media landscape, appropriately enough. None of the comments on the article had anything to do with its content, of course. The commenters were all too busy calling me an uppity queen who didn’t speak for them who also needed to learn his place.

“Oh, who cares? There’s always going to be trolls in the comments,” I said, shoving the laptop back to Joel.

“You say that like you aren’t one yourself,” Joel said, his eyebrows raised.

“True. But there’s a difference between them and me,” I said.

“Oh? And what’s that? You’re pretty?”

“Well, there’s certainly that part, but the more obvious thing is I’m actually making money at it and they aren’t,” I said with a smile.

“You’re impossible.”

“No. I just know what I want and I do whatever I have to do to get it.”

“And what do you want out of this, exactly? Why are you so invested in Taylor’s downfall?”

“Because he represents everything I hate about the media in this country. He gets to sit in his office in the glass palace of the Global News Network and tell the rest of the country what they should think and how they should think it, but he’s about as sheltered and self-centered as they come. A new thought hasn’t entered his head in decades because it doesn’t pay for him to think outside of the mainstream. In fact, the only thing about him that isn’t mainstream is that he’s gay, but even that part of him is boring,” I said, surprising myself with the rant that had come out of me.

“You still didn’t answer the question. He’s over, there’s no way he’s getting out of what he said last night. So why are you still pushing?”

“Because the country deserves better. The media deserves better.”

“And you think you can give them that?”

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“I guess so.”

“Good, then I think we’re settled here. Nate, do you have anything to add?” I interrupted before Joel had the chance to say anything else.

“I don’t, but I think I just found something you need to see, boss,” Nate said, his eyes wide.

“What? Don’t tease me like that,” I said and scooted around the giant, circular table to hover over his shoulder. He pointed at the middle of his screen where a headline screamed: “Disgraced journalist Jeff Taylor to deliver apology.”

“No way,” I whispered, slapping Nate’s hand away from the mouse to use it myself. I clicked on the headline and devoured the article above the fold. It was true. Taylor was really going to go on some grand apology tour to try and spin his way out of trouble.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Nate asked.

“Yeah. GNN is done with him. I can’t believe it,” I whispered. It was better than anything I could’ve hoped for. GNN had a history of protecting their own, even when they’d said or done some stupid shit, so I fully expected their well-oiled PR machine to whir into gear with Taylor, their number one anchor and earner. They’d trot him out in some special segment where he’d apologize and they’d do their best to brush the whole thing under the rug… But according to the article I’d just read, ‘sources familiar with the matter’ said they didn’t even offer Taylor the chance to make up for his rant. They were distancing themselves from Taylor as much as they could. It was the smart thing to do.

“I need to be at this press conference,” I said and Joel exploded.

“What?! I thought you said you were going to back off of this! Why do you even want to go? What are you going to get out of it?”

“More than anything you could imagine.”

“Why can’t you just watch it on TV? I’m sure it’ll be broadcast on all of the major channels.”

“Maybe, but it won’t be the same. No. I need to be there for this.”

“How? You really think anyone would grant you a press pass for this?”

“No, of course not. But they might grant it for a member of the crew,” I said with a wink.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Joel groaned. “You can’t do this, Kile. Did what I just said go in one ear and come right out of the other? If you show up at that press conference and get on the news, it’ll make you look as petty as you’re actually being.”

“Nate, can you call me a cab? I think I’m gonna need it,” I said, ignoring Joel altogether. Nate smiled.

“Of course,” he said as he stood up and tucked his laptop under his arm. “Give me a few minutes.”

“Just make it happen and make it happen fast. The press conference is supposed to start in about an hour,” I said as I checked my watch. He dashed away so Joel and I were the only ones left in the room.

“You’re going to regret this,” Joel said and left the room.

See, that’s the thing with Joel. He’s always at least two steps behind me when it comes to marketing.

* * *

“Thank you so much for being here today, everyone. I really appreciate it,” Jeff Taylor said from the table on the elevated dais where he sat, still too proud to sit on the same level as everyone beneath him. His gray-blond curls shone in the overbearing light from overhead, which made his face appear more drawn than normal. He looked tired, stressed, and more than a little over all of this. Good, I thought as I straightened my suit jacket. It’s about time someone knocked him down a peg or two.

I hadn’t been able to get into the event as a member of the event crew because there was no crew to speak of. In fact, it was all media types with their cameras and microphones packed into one row directly in front of Taylor, which made it easier to sneak in since they were all distracted. I sent a silent thank you to whoever left the side door cracked open with a stopper as I slipped inside.

I found a row of folding chairs resting against the wall, freed one of them, and sat down on it out of Taylor’s view. I didn’t want him to know I was there—not yet, anyway.

“As you all know, I did something really ridiculous on live TV last night,” Taylor continued and the press people laughed and nodded in agreement. “And I invited you all here today to tell you and the rest of the country why I did what I did. I’m sure it looked to most of you like I was unhinged, and maybe I was a little out of it, but I felt like I had to speak up,” Taylor said and paused for a moment to take a drink from the glass of water sitting in front of him.

“I was frustrated. I’m still frustrated. I don’t know what’s happening to the media in this country, but I’ve been a part of it for my entire adult life and I’ve never seen anything like this. We’ve got fake ‘news’ articles all over the internet that people don’t even bother to read before they’re smashing the share button and we’ve got fluff celebrity gossip pieces. That’s it. Those are your choices,” Taylor said. I laughed to myself. Even after all he’d lost, he wasn’t going to quit beating this dead horse. Maybe he really did believe it.

“Whatever happened to real journalism? What happened to research and facts? What happened to the Walter Cronkite’s of the world? They’re gone. I don’t know where they went, but they’re not here.”

“And do you see yourself as a worthy heir to Cronkite?” I called from the back of the room.

“I’m sorry, please save all questions for the end, I’ll be happy to answer them then,” Taylor said without looking in my direction.

“Some might say this is the end for you, Mr. Taylor,” I said as I stood and stepped forward to allow my face to be illuminated by the fluorescent lights. Taylor’s expression turned from one of horror to amusement in the blink of an eye and I reveled in the discomfort I must’ve been causing him.

“Ah, Kile. You know, I was wondering why you never applied for a press badge. I guess now I know, huh?”

“It was a last-minute decision,” I said and Taylor shook his head, a sad smirk appearing on his face.

“Why are you here, Kile? Come to put a fork in me?”

“Me? No, I’d never celebrate the ousting of a fellow journalist,” I said and Taylor’s eyes narrowed. I couldn’t see it, but I could only assume that every hair on the back of his neck must’ve been standing up at my assertion we were anything alike. “I’m here to defend you.”

“That’s kind of you and all, but that’s not what this is about. I’m here to apologize for what I said and move on,” he said and I stepped up onto the dais, making Taylor’s eyes go so wide they looked like they might burst. Two giant men in security t-shirts rounded the dais and came my way.

“Is this really necessary, gentlemen?” I asked as they approached. I wasn’t afraid of what they might do, but I didn’t really want to lose my opportunity. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“You need to leave. Now,” the bigger of the two said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have every right to be here as a member of the press.”

“Except you don’t have a badge. So, I repeat: you need to leave. Now.”

“Leave him alone,” Taylor called from behind me. I knew it. He’s too damn noble to throw me out, I thought. “It’ll only cause more trouble if you kick him out,” he continued. He was right. If he threw me out now and everyone here reported it—and they most certainly would, this was making for far too entertaining television—it would make Taylor look like more of an ass than he already did for the way he’d treated me on his show.

“What do you want, Avery?” Taylor hissed as I turned to face him. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

“You’re so cynical, Jeff. I can call you that, right?”

“Whatever you’re about to do, you need to knock it off. Right now,” he said, the sweat on his brow shining in the light.

“Trust me,” I said before turning back around to the cameras.

“Hello, everyone. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Kile Avery, founder and editor-in-chief of The Flame. Mr. Taylor here had me on his show last night and things got more than a little heated between us. I know that it put Mr. Taylor in a very uncomfortable position, but I wanted to say that while I appreciate his apology, I don’t think it’s necessary. Mr. Taylor is a respectable man and a fearless journalist, and it’s those kinds of people our country needs now more than ever,” I said. I paused to allow everyone to catch up and noticed that the room had grown so quiet that I could hear the buzzing from the lights overhead.

“So, I’d like to ask you all to take it easy on him. He got a little frazzled in the heat of the moment but it happens to the best of us. We’ve all said and done things we regret, haven’t we?” I asked and as if on cue the camera people nodded in agreement. “Of course we have. Mr. Taylor and I may have higher profiles than most, but we’re no less imperfect than any of you,” I said before turning back to Taylor and extending a hand to draw attention to him.

“I thought it was only appropriate that I make an appearance at this event because I wanted Mr. Taylor and the rest of the country to see that even those who don’t agree can still get along. We need unity right now, not division, especially among colleagues. I forgive him for what happened. I hope you all can do the same,” I said. “No hard feelings, right?” I asked Taylor and he scowled at me, his face burning brighter than the sun.

“No hard feelings,” Taylor agreed, putting on a pained smile as he took the hand I’d offered him and shook it. Cameras clicked and flashes popped and though Taylor tried his best to pull his hand away from me, I gripped it tight. I wanted this moment to last, I wanted everyone to get a shot of the titan of cable news making nice with his arch-enemy.

I could see the headlines in the making. Taylor flung my hand away and stood up to come around the table and stand with me, smiling and waving. I wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned over until my mouth was centimeters from his ear.

“You owe me,” I whispered.