WHO: Deonte Freeman and Alex Winters WHAT: A professional consultation. WHEN: Friday, December 6, morning WHERE: Alex's office, Maverick Studios RATING: Low-ish, mild mentions of drug addiction and sex
De hadn't wanted to watch the video at first, but after a couple days of relentless hounding by gossip hounds desperate to get a reaction from him and some combination of curious, disgusted, mocking, or sympathetic looks from everyone he interacted with, he'd made himself do it. At the very least, he had to know exactly how bad it was, and what everyone was thinking about when they gave him those looks. It wasn't even hard to find online, which made the whole thing even worse, if that was possible at this point. His paranoia told him that everyone he knew had seen it, and the ones who were still treating him like normal were just pretending they hadn't.
The worst thing about the tape, other than the fact that it had somehow been released for the whole world to see, was how it brought back a time in his life that he'd wanted behind him for good. Judging from his thorough participation and from how often he'd looked at the camera during the proceedings, clearly he'd enthusiastically consented both to the sex and to being filmed at the time, but he could also see the telltale signs of how much Blitz he'd been on: the flickers of pale lightning under his skin, the slightly manic timbre of his voice. There were whole chunks of those years in New York he didn't entirely remember, and what he'd told Thorne was true: he didn't remember making this tape, and he hadn't known who the person holding the camera was. That, more than anything else, had made him feel particularly ashamed of the whole business.
De had hoped if he kept his head down and didn't comment it might go away on its own, but more than a week in with no sign of the public fascination abating, he'd come to the reluctant decision that he couldn't get away with that. Which was what had brought him to the door of Maverick Studios' head of PR, being shown in by the office assistant. He stopped inside the door, sizing up Alex Winters for a moment before moving into the office. "Hi. De Freeman. I -- um -- do you have a minute?"
In so much as the leaking of a sex tape could be personally devestating, it was really barely a blip on the studio's radar--especially when it was a pair of crew members and not anyone more public facing. Alex had been a little surprised when De's name came up on his calendar appointments earlier that day, since it had been a while since the Warbler's article. A week could be eons in the entertainment world. All the same, he was expecting the man when he entered, and Alex gave him what he hoped was a grimly understanding smile.
Rising, he indicated the small seating area he'd had set up as soon as he'd gotten his own office. There was a better than good chance that this was going to be a difficult conversation, and Alex firmly believed in putting people at ease as best he could. "For you? I have sixty, or more if we need it. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?"
De shook his head. His stomach was already clenching with nerves at the prospect of this conversation; adding anything else to that seemed like a bad idea. "No. Thanks." He took a seat, dropping his knapsack heedlessly onto the floor next to him, and folded his hands tightly in his lap, studiously avoiding the other man's eyes. "I guess you probably know why I'm here. I need--" De took a breath, his shoulders hunching in. "It's been a really rough week, since the tape. I thought if I just ignored it it would go away. But it hasn't, and I can't-- I want to put out a statement. If the studio's okay with it."
Every line in De's body screamed anxiety, and Alex felt a pang of it go through him in sincere sympathy. He really wanted to reach out, to reassure him with a gentle squeeze to the shoulder, but knew it probably wouldn't be appreciated in these circumstances. He had some ideas about a statement--it wasn't the first time something like this had popped up, after all--but something told him that his ideas probably wouldn't be shared by the Wardrobe supervisor. "What kind of statement?"
"That I didn't release it," De answered immediately. "I know people are saying I did. But I didn't even know there was a tape. And I know that sounds like a total lie, because of what's on it--" He did glance up at Alex then, wondering for a fraction of a second if he even wanted to know if he had watched it, and coming to just as swift a conclusion that he did not want to ask that question. "I'm an addict. I'm in recovery now, but that's from a part of my life where I -- I made choices that I would not make now. I want to get that side of the story out, and just hope that people will understand that I'm not that guy anymore." He looked down at his hands again. "I can't put it back in the box, but maybe coming out and being honest will make all this chaos die down. Eventually."
Leaning in a bit, Alex set his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers in thought. His mind was working over things: public reactions, studio responsibilities, philanthropic avenues, and restoring some smidgen of Deonte's reputation. "That's a really good idea, actually, and I would make sure that the powers that be were behind it as well. Second chances are important, I really believe that. We shouldn't be here to indemnify someone for past mistakes, but encourage and may even celebrate their recovery milestones. Do you mind if I ask how long it's been?"
The tension in De's shoulders released a little at the news that his idea wasn't a terrible one. He hadn't been sure the studio would want anything to do with helping him get out of this mess, and he resolved here and now not to give them any trouble from here on out. He released his tightly-folded hands, too, and set them on his knees instead. "I'm almost five years clean," he answered. "I overdosed in February, 2015. Fashion Week in New York. They tell me my heart stopped. I was actually dead. But--" He shrugged one shoulder. "I got serious about getting clean then. This is literally my new lease on life. I didn't want to waste it." He met Alex's eyes for the first time since walking in his door. "Some people don't get another chance, you know?"
Even as a studio rep and a person deeply entrenched in the world of Public Relations, there were times when he forgot to bottle his own reactions. He'd sucked in a quiet breath when De had provided more details, but it was the last rhetorical question that prompted a sad smile to drift across Alex's face. "No," he heard himself say distantly, because his thoughts had been yanked to his sister. It was a struggle to force himself back into the present. The closer it got to the holidays, the more memories of Maggie and how much she'd loved Christmas floated through his mind--no matter how badly timed they were. Alex gave the other man a brief, but genuine smile. "That's great. I mean it. And I think once we issue your statement, more people will see that too. It's kind of in-line with an idea I had recently anyway, about the people in this industry being exactly that: people. I think our audience can sometimes forget that. Rumors and scandals may be the life's blood of the tabloid industry, but they're events--whether true or not--that can happen to even the best of us."
De shook his head, not in disagreement with the principle of the idea that Wizzywood gossip magnets were people, but with how much credit he was giving the public at large for empathy and kindness. "I'm definitely not the best of anything, but even if I was -- I mean, look at Lyam. He really is all that and a bag of chips, but everybody's so eager to find something to tear him down. All they care about is stories, something new and interesting to gossip about. They don't care about the people." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together again. "More your arena than mine, I know. I'll do whatever you want me to do about this, whatever will get people to lose interest in it."
"Draft up a statement, and we'll look at it together, okay?" Alex could concede that it really did seem to be the status quo for people to look for and cheer on the worst in their idols, but even years in PR hadn't quite robbed him of his hope or optimism--at least not completely. "I'm not going to be the asshole who tells you that things can only get better, but, at least for right now, maybe... take a breath. You're sober and you have a job with people who want to support you while you go through this. I'm in your corner, De." His smile deepened, maybe even went a little playful. "No one else is gonna be able to make Trial look so good."
In another world De would have taken that last comment as a bit of flirtation and responded in kind out of habit. As it was, the compliment barely registered. He was already looking down at his hands, trying to come up with the words he wanted to express. "Yeah, okay," he answered. "I can do that. Should I--" He hesitated, his fingers going tight together again. "I don't want to throw anybody under the bus. But it wasn't me who released the tape, and Thorne says it wasn't him. It had to have been the other… participant." He was too dark to visibly blush, but his cheeks were warm. "Is there a way I can say that without using his name? Or -- or do I throw him under the bus?"
It was hard to see the other man struggle, and Alex let his smile fade while he thought this new wrinkle over. "I'm no lawyer, but I think I'm going to advise you not to name names. But since you know who the, ah, other party is, do you have a way to contact him? See why he may have released it? Or even if he did. Either way, yes, we can leave his name out of it. I don't think you'd even have to mention Thorne, necessarily. Maybe just focus on you and the progress you've made in your recovery. You made a questionable choice, but, as far as I know, nothing illegal happened, and everyone involved was consenting. I...didn't watch it. It's"--he broke off with a wry chuckle and shook his head. "It's not my thing on a lot of levels, least of all out of respect for one of my studio co-workers. If I haven't said it yet, I'm sorry this is happening to you. I really am."
"Thank you," De answered. Honestly, it was a relief to know that at least one person in the world hadn't watched the video. He leaned his elbows on his thighs and propped his chin in his hands while he thought for a moment. "I haven't talked to this guy in years. We're not -- it was just a fling. But I know how to contact him, yeah. I just…" He stopped there, raising his eyes to Alex's face again. "No, never mind. I won't dump all this on you, you're not my therapist. I'll figure it out." He sighed and sat up straight again. "Okay. Let's write this thing."