Though, you must admit, in-person interactions are fleeting. But online the interaction is preserved (basically) forever. Nothing is fleeting because it can be revisited anytime you wish.

Give it a chance!

- Slovenly Miss. Lazybones

March 16

11:15 p.m.

Dear Secretly Miss. Lonelyheart,

If you want to preserve in-person interactions, all you need to do is record them…. I’ve done this in the past, each time with stellar results.

It sounds to me like, as much as I need lessons in social media, you need lessons on how to truly live. When’s the last time you experienced any kind of in-person interaction that left you breathless or excited? Nothing online can come close to experiencing the touch of another person, a kiss, a caress—or the anticipation of these things.

Nothing in this make-believe world comes close.

I would send you a link to an article on the subject, but that would really undermine my point. You need to actually experience it. Take your own advice and give it a chance.

-Ronan

Chapter Eight

March 17

1:14 a.m.

Dear Ronan,

I’m not ignoring your last message, but I’m writing you now because I wanted to be the one to tell you before you found out from someone else. This article (attached) hasn’t been published yet, but it will be in tomorrow’s newspaper, and shortly after that all over the gossip sites. As you read it, you’ll see that your ex-girlfriend is accusing you of domestic violence and years of emotional abuse. I have a friend at the paper who sends me celebrity stuff before it’s in print.

Please don’t react! You should probably make a few benign posts on Twitter today, maybe about your boring diet (take pictures) or about your friend Tom’s restaurant. I will also be happy to tweet back and forth with you about something related to your charity.

Just…don’t react to it. She sounds completely crazy. If you react, you’ll be playing right into her hands.

Sincerely, Secretly Miss. Lonelyheart

*Annie*

My internal debate lasted from the time I went to bed at 1:30 a.m. until I awoke from a fitful sleep at 7:13 a.m.

Then it lasted two minutes more. I could stay at home and work and ignore my worry about Ronan and his spiteful ex-girlfriend, wait to be contacted by the office once the story was printed; or I could go into work, break the news to Joan, and have him called in for a damage-control meeting.

Ultimately, I gave into the urge to seek out Ronan. I justified it to myself by recalling that he wasn’t just any client. We’d been partnered, and Joan wanted me to be more present in the office. Plus, I could use it as an opportunity to return the necklace.

When I arrived at the office Monday morning, the streets were already crowded with people setting up for New York’s St. Patrick’s Day parade. I wasn’t scheduled to be in the office until Wednesday and may have been checking both my work account and my Socialmedialite email account obsessively on the way in, hoping he would email one of us. I was also checking his Twitter feed, hoping he didn’t plan to retaliate publically.

As soon as I arrived, I went to Joan’s office. Her assistant told me she’d arrived an hour ago but was currently in a meeting. I asked that she call me as soon as she had a free moment and then I retreated to my office.

I was able to get some work done. Focusing on the beginnings of an action plan to counter Brona O’Shea’s propaganda was a good way to channel my restless energy, but I continued to check my emails.

At 9:00 a.m. on the dot, my cell phone chimed. I grabbed it and saw that the number listed was the phone line from the main conference room.

I stood as I answered it. “Uh, hello?”

“Annie, are you online yet?” Joan’s voice arrived with a slight echo; I knew I was on the speakerphone in the conference room.

“Yes, I’m online.”

“Good. Listen, the Times is running a story today on Ronan Fitzpatrick, and it’s…well, I’ll let you read it. It’ll be all over the place by this afternoon. The point is we need to come up with a plan. I’ll need you in the office today.”

“Oh, well—”

She cut me off. “You should know I’m sitting here with Rachel, Becky, Gerta, and Ian. Mr. Fitzpatrick is on his way. How soon can you get here?”

I cleared my throat, a ripple of excitement running through me at the news that Ronan was already on his way. I’d be spending time with him today. I wished it were under different circumstances, but I couldn’t deny that I was excited to see him. My hand smoothed down the length of my knee-length black dress. Like the other clothes Joan had purchased, it fit me like it was made for my body yet was completely appropriate for the office. I’d paired it with a cropped pink cardigan and black velvet heels.

“I saw the article early this morning. I’ve put together a basic action plan and can send it to the team. Basically, my take on the situation is that we need to pair him up as soon as possible. We need an appropriate and steady date for him, and we need to step up the public appearances, both with the date and without.”

“I agree.” This came from Ian. “Those were my sentiments exactly. We need to pair him with someone the media will love, someone with credibility and the opposite of Brona O’Shea, and give them plenty of romantic photo-ops. A new love interest will bury this story. We’re going to have to scrap the earlier plan for multiple partners, at least for now.”

I swallowed a sudden bitterness in my throat and tried to focus on the plan, the good of the client. “Ronan is interested in charities for disadvantaged children. I know the program director for Sports Stars, and I know she’d love to have Ronan for events.” This was mostly true. The Socialmedialite knew the program director for Sports Stars. Either way, the charity focused on pairing sports celebrities with at-risk youth, and The Socialmedialite had orchestrated several introductions in the past. The program director owed me a favor. The group was great for photo-ops and positive press.