“To live without evil belongs only to the gods.”

— Sophocles

1.

Trina smiled and waved her hand. “I’m not hiring you because of your expertise on reality shows. Don’t worry about that. Honestly,” she leaned in, “just watch a couple of shows in your spare time and you’ll get it. They’re all pretty much the same. I have confidence that you can get up to speed with what you need to know. Now,” she put her reading glasses back on, “The offer I’d like to make you is a one-year contract, renewable and open for renegotiation at the end of a year. We’ve gone over the scope. Contract can be terminated at any time if both parties agree. Contract is at will and can only be canceled by ME Communications for cause, otherwise you will be guaranteed the full salary. Cause would be non-performance.”

She looked up from the contract. “Pretty standard. Also, this is inclusive of client only, and per your request, your services would not extend to anyone else other than the client unless agreed upon by all parties.”

I nodded. 

She finished reading and slid it over to me. “I’m offering fifty thousand per month. I think that’s a pretty fair offer.”

I took the contract. Fifty thousand was more than pretty fair, it was a little crazy. What was so bad about this work that she needed to make a crazy offer? But even with that bump in salary, I still didn’t feel eager to make the leap. I wasn’t ready to let go of my old life yet. I needed to have some time with my thoughts, feel comfortable with this whole new change. “Can I have a few days to think about this?”

“What’s the hesitation?” She leaned her elbows on her desk. “I assumed, from our prior conversations, that you were on board. Is it the money?”

It wasn’t the money. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to commit. I could tell that she wasn’t going to let me out of here without a fight. 

“Tell me what it will take. Name your figure.”

I decided to scare her off. I’d give her a figure so ridiculous, she would ask me to leave. Or at least come back with her final offer. At that point I would have an excuse to walk out and tell her I needed to think about it. “Seventy-five thousand a month plus expenses.” I wanted to push her, see how serious Miss Yoga Pants really was. That would make me a millionaire. I couldn’t imagine it. “And a twenty-five thousand signing bonus.”

Trina leaned back in her chair and stared at me. She took a deep breath and squinted. “Are you telling me that if I offered you seventy-five thousand dollars a month plus expenses plus a signing bonus of twenty-five thousand, you would accept that offer right now?”

I nodded. She couldn’t be that crazy. Could she? 

She stood up and extended her claw across the desk. “Welcome to ME!”

I was in shock. I hesitated for a second, knowing that after I shook her hand, I was committed. No backing out. 

It wasn’t a handshake. It was a bear trap. She gave me a solid grip and the trap was sprung. 

I was now Kim Kardashian’s domestic and international issues publicist and advisor.

*********

2.

Kris Jenner finished texting and looked up at me. “The contract?” She held her hand out.

There was a brief moment where I thought about tossing it on her desk and folding my arms. I handed it to her.

She put on a pair of glasses and flipped through it. “You’ll be personally doing the lobbying?”

I nodded.

“Give me the list of lawmakers that you’re targeting.”

I picked up my bag and pulled out the Kardashian file. Kris had all the mannerisms of countless cutthroat lawyers I’d dealt with through the years. Curt, to the point. Dehumanize your opponent. Classic intimidation techniques. I had used them plenty of times myself. Establish yourself as the alpha in the room and take no shit. Where had she learned that? The lightbulb flashed in my head. She had been married to a lawyer. I had almost forgotten; her ex-husband was the guy who grabbed headlines years ago defending O. J. Simpson. She was probably mimicking him. I handed her the list of lawmakers.

She read through it, picked up a pen, crossed out some names, then wrote something on the paper before passing it back to me. “These are the politicians I want you to contact.”

She had listed a few names of politicians who were absolutely not friendly to Kim’s causes. At the bottom, she had written “President” and underlined it.

Time for me to take back control. Kim may be great at selling perfume and lipstick, but politics was a different ballgame. “Okay, a couple of things. None of the people you listed will give us the time of day if I tell them what we’re lobbying for. They’re on the other side of the coin on these issues. Secondly, the president is very famously anti-science and anti-justice.”

Kris shook her head. “I don’t care what they think. Get Kim in the same room with them, that’s all you need to do. Kim will do the rest.”

“I don’t doubt that Kim can influence them.” I remembered the neck rub she had given me that cured my headache, the way she handled the annoying woman in the Prada store. “But we need to build a little momentum. We need to have her foundation become a recognized force on the Hill . . .”

Kris was shaking her head again. “That’s not how this is going to work. I take it that you’re the expert on lobbying and influencing lawmakers and all that, but my daughter and I are the experts on fame. My daughter is the most famous woman on the planet. Her fame trumps any one of those lawmakers. Even the president. Fame is a commodity, and Kim’s fame is a highly prized commodity. Companies pay millions to get mentioned on Kim’s social media. I get requests all day long for Kim’s endorsement. You need to use her name like a sledgehammer and open those doors with it. I want this to happen quickly, is that clear?” 

Endorsements? Did this bitch want me to use my very valuable DC connections just to sell ad space on Kim’s Twitter account to politicians? Is that what she was getting at? I wasn’t hired to hawk beauty products for her daughter. I was about to get up and leave, to make a dramatic exit, tell her to fuck herself and the horse she rode in on, but the humming grew even louder, stopping my thoughts in their tracks. The pounding in my head started again. I rubbed my temples and leaned forward. The throbbing in my brain pushed out everything I was focused on. It felt like torture. Did she deliberately turn up the volume on the security devices so that the humming would annoy me? 

*********

3.

“The Kardashian producers are always looking for drama, and I thought some of that old O. J. shit would bring the drama. I wanted to bring Kato Katelin on the show, so I tracked him down. I thought this would be, like, the perfect Kardashian episode. Past meets present, you know? I could have promoted the fuck out of it. Probably would have been a major ratings boost.”

As he talked, I saw what must have been a hint of the old Spencer surface, the Spencer who was probably passionate about his job, proud that he was part of the Kardashian machinery, the type of guy who would always brag about connections to the Kardashians. The photos I had seen showed a confident, brash kid. This thing really did a number on him.   

“I did a couple of interviews with him. He didn’t want to go on the show. I think he was kind of afraid, because normally the dude would, like, show up for the opening of an envelope. The second interview, we’re all liquored up, and I mention that high-pitched humming sound at Kim’s house, and that’s when he opens up to me.”

“Do you think that what he heard was the same humming? I mean, could it be . . . the creature that attacked Nicole Simpson was the same one in the office?” I was going to need a tin hat soon.

Rosalita stopped by with the beers. Spencer finished mine and started another one.

“I really think it must have been. There’s, like, some kind of connection through the Kardashians, but I don’t know.”

“So, what’s your plan?” Was he just going to hide for the rest of his life?

“No plan. Just to stay alive and find someplace where I can be safe. Someplace where they never heard of the Kardashians. I need to feel safe. Then I can think about a plan.”

There were a few moments of silence while he stared off to the side. He nodded his head and then spoke to me. “You know, it feels good to finally tell someone what happened. Even if you don’t believe me.” He smiled for the first time. It was a nice smile. He had dimples buried in his beard.