Repairing Dreams (paperback)

Ding, ding, ding.
The speed of the incoming messages on Chelsea McGinnis’s phone made it sound like a child bashing a xylophone. Her gut clenched as she lunged for it. Nothing good came this fast at this hour of the morning. She spotted the name, Aria Simpson, and her heart went into overdrive.
No, no, no.
What had Aria done?
Her fingers shook as she clicked on the link Ellen, her manager at the advertising company, had sent her.
Nausea swept through her as she read, and she sank onto her unmade hotel bed. Last night’s event had launched Aria as the ambassador for Tours Australia. The post was of the influencer posing with two Indigenous Australian women who had danced at the launch and were still wearing their traditional dress and face paint. The photo itself would have been fine, but Aria’s words put a stake right into Chelsea’s heart.
After all these years they still haven’t embraced modern makeup or clothing. Indigenous ladies, follow me for tips.
Followed by a laugh emoji.
Chelsea closed her eyes and her hands trembled.
There was no coming back from this. All her hard work cajoling the self-entitled prima donna to do what they needed for the campaign was obliterated in one careless, ignorant post.
Months of effort getting Aria to agree to the role at the client’s request, and then thousands of dollars spent touring Aria around the country and filming her, had all been wasted.
No way could they use her as a spokesperson now.
Chelsea scrolled through the comments; some thought she was funny, others were horrified and angry at her disrespect.
Toni, the elder pictured with Aria, would be furious. She had spent months negotiating with Tours Australia to have her cultural tours included on their program. She was a proud and business savvy woman and this would be a kick in the teeth.
Chelsea had known Aria Simpson wasn’t the right person for the role. Model and influencer, now with her own range of makeup, Aria had always been opinionated and potentially divisive, but the client’s representative was a fan and believed she would attract the younger demographic. As if the younger demographic had the funds to take Tours Australia trips.
Her phone vibrated in her hands as a call from Ellen came through.
Shit.
Taking a deep breath, she answered it. “Ellen, what do you need me to do?”
“Get Aria to write an apology and delete the post.”
“She’s not going to.” It was one thing Chelsea had learnt after spending every day for two weeks in the woman’s company—Aria always thought she was right.
“Then you post it. Fix this, Chelsea. Your promotion is on the line.”
Before Chelsea could comment, Ellen hung up.
Shock made her breathless. How was this her fault? She’d spoken against Aria when her name was first raised.
But if Chelsea was associated with this, no one would want her working on their campaigns. She couldn’t afford to lose her promotion because rent on her outer-suburb apartment in Sydney was more than half her pay.
Chelsea inhaled deeply, pushing the panic aside for another time. Fixing things was her superpower. She slipped on her shoes, twisted her chocolate brown hair into a messy French twist and then called Toni. The elder deserved an apology first.
Toni answered on the first ring. “What are you doing to fix this?” Her tone wasn’t aggressive, but it was insistent.
“I’m going to speak to Aria,” Chelsea said. “I’m so sorry for her disrespect.”
“It’s not your fault. That girl wouldn’t know respect if it hit her over the head.”
The tension in Chelsea’s shoulders lessened. She’d really liked Toni’s outlook on life and her dedication to her culture. “I’m hoping to get her to post an apology.”
Toni snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Chelsea smiled. “I’m certain Tours Australia will post an apology and I’ll keep you up to date with what’s happening.”
“Thanks, Chelsea. I know how hard you worked on this.” Toni hung up.
Chelsea exhaled. If only the rest of the people she had to deal with were as understanding as Toni. She checked her appearance in the mirror by the door, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and then knocked loudly on the hotel room next to hers. It was only seven o’clock, but Aria should be awake as she was flying to Italy today for a fashion show.
While Chelsea waited, she checked the time the damning post had gone up. One a.m.. Aria had been drunk when Chelsea walked her to her room around midnight after the event ended. Aria had wanted to keep partying, but Chelsea had convinced her it would be wise to get a good night’s sleep before her long-haul flight from Sydney to Milan.
Chelsea pounded on the door again. She should have let Aria go out. Then Aria might have been too busy to post to social media.
Aria opened the door, her red hair a tangled mess and her eyes bloodshot. She wore a hotel robe and behind her every bottle from the mini bar was empty on the floor. The scent of alcohol suggested not all the liquid had gone into Aria’s mouth.
Yep. She definitely should have let her go out.
Aria screwed up her face. “What are you doing here? I thought we were finished.”
If only. Chelsea gritted her teeth. “You posted something to social media last night.” She held up her phone so Aria could see.
Aria squinted at it. “Yeah.” She grinned. “Pretty smart, right? I just found a whole new demographic for my label.”
Chelsea opened her mouth and then closed it again, trying to find the right words. How could she phrase this so it didn’t get Aria’s back up? Your post was… insensitive, ignorant, clueless. No, she still needed Aria to post an apology. She cleared her throat. “There are many people who find your comments offensive.”
“Haters gonna hate.” Aria walked back into her room and Chelsea followed her, trying to reason with her.
“Can you see how derogatory it might seem to those in our Indigenous community?”
“It’s not like it isn’t true. They need to stop being precious snowflakes about the past and move on.”
Chelsea had no words. She bit her tongue and clenched her hands. This clueless, self-absorbed, entitled cow deserved all the backlash that was coming to her. But right now, she held Chelsea’s job in her hand, so Chelsea had to play nice.
“The management of Tours Australia is quite upset as are the elders you disrespected. This could ruin the campaign we’ve been working so hard on. It would help if you could post a statement apologising for your comments. I’ll even write it for you.” She opened the note-taking app on her phone and started writing.
“That’s their problem. I’ve done my bit and been paid for it.” She flopped on the bed and turned on the television. The morning news was doing a story on her post.
Shit.
Aria laughed. “Look how upset they are. Bunch of woke hypocrites.”
“Please, Aria,” Chelsea begged. “I know it’s trivial to you, but this impacts me too. I would appreciate it if you posted what I write.”
“How does it impact you?”
“Because you’ve been my responsibility throughout this campaign. What you do reflects on me and I’m trying to get a promotion.”
Aria switched off the TV. “That’s stupid. You can’t control what I say.” She stood and walked towards the bathroom.
“Aria, please.” God, she hated begging this woman who had made her life hell for a fortnight.
At the doorway, Aria turned. “If they sack you, it’ll give you the opportunity to go out on your own. Forge your own career not dictated by others. It’ll be good for you. I gotta shower.” She shed her robe and left Chelsea staring at the closed door.
Chelsea rubbed her arms as a chill swept through her. She battled the nausea swelling in her stomach and inhaled slowly.
Memories flooded her of all those years watching her mother struggle to make ends meet, the uncertainty of where they would live when their lease was up, or the company her mother worked for had gone through sweeping redundancies. Seeing how stressed her mother was as she tried to find work during an economic downturn.
Chelsea had worked hard for her independence and to ensure she wasn’t vulnerable to the influence of others, but this post could ruin everything.
She had to get Aria to post the apology.
Otherwise she was screwed.
***
An hour later, after writing the apology and again begging Aria to post it, Chelsea slammed the door closed on the car that was taking Aria to the airport. The sound was like an axe on a chopping block. She had failed.
She dragged her own suitcase down the footpath of the Sydney Central Business District and into the skyscraper where she worked. Viral Posts Media took up an entire floor of the building and when the elevator dinged, Chelsea walked into the bright reception area where she was greeted by the receptionist, Meg. A large vase of colourful lilies sat on the desk, bringing cheer to the area, and a faint floral scent was enhanced by the oil diffuser hidden behind the reception desk.
“Oh my God, Chelsea,” Meg said. “Everyone is going crazy in there. Did you get Aria to retract her statement?”
Chelsea shook her head as her stomach rolled again. “No.” She looked around. “Can I leave my suitcase behind your desk?” She didn’t want to walk into the main office dragging it behind her, and there was no room in her small cubicle for it.
“Sure.”
Chelsea walked through the glass doors of Viral Posts Media. Her colleagues sat in cubicles, the walls of which were high enough that she couldn’t see their faces. Quickly she strode down the corridor on her four-inch heels towards Ellen’s office.
Ellen’s personal assistant looked up as Chelsea approached and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Chelsea. I’m to send you straight to Harold’s office.”
The managing director. Chelsea swallowed hard. “Right.”
She pivoted towards the corner office. By now people were rubber-necking from their cubicles as she walked past, some smirking, some wincing in sympathy. She kept her shoulders back and her head held high. She had done nothing wrong. It was ridiculous to think she could gag a celebrity, particularly one like Aria.
Harold’s personal assistant said, “Go right in. They’ve been waiting for you.”
Nerves danced in her stomach. She could do this. Chelsea smoothed down the front of her sleeveless navy dress and knocked on the door before cautiously pushing it open. Harold sat behind his desk with Ellen and Vivian, the client from Tours Australia, across from him.
The tension in the room was palpable. Vivian glared at her and Harold frowned in his impatience. Only Ellen’s expression held a hint of sympathy.
“You took your time,” Harold said.
“My apologies. Aria wasn’t in a rush to get to the airport this morning.”
“Did she post the apology?” Vivian demanded.
Chelsea clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry, she refused to. I offered to rewrite it to suit her, but she doesn’t believe she has anything to apologise for.”
“This is unacceptable,” Harold said. “She was your responsibility. Why did you let her post it?”
Let her? She glanced at Ellen, who shrugged as if there was nothing she could do. Right. No support from that front. “Unfortunately her social media is out of my control. She posted it last night after I left her in her hotel room.”
“What are we going to do?” Vivian asked. “We can’t use anything we’ve just filmed.” She glared at Chelsea again.
Chelsea had been considering options. “We have a lot of scenery footage we can still use,” she said. “We could use a different celebrity to voice over it.” But it would cost a lot more to get the celebrity on camera and take them to all the places they’d taken Aria.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to salvage a lot,” Ellen agreed.
“I’m going to be crucified,” Vivian moaned. “Whose idea was it to use Aria?”
Chelsea raised her eyebrows, but a shake of Ellen’s head kept Chelsea’s lips pressed firmly together. Vivian had been the worst kind of fan-girl when she’d met Aria at the airport on her arrival.
“My management is not happy,” Vivian continued. “I want whoever it was fired.”
Some of the tension left Chelsea’s shoulders. It hadn’t been her decision, and she had it on record that she’d opposed the idea. She’d be safe.
“Now we know Aria’s stance,” Harold said, getting to his feet, “we can rework the campaign and come up with a solution.” He gestured Vivian towards the door.
“I need this before midday,” Vivian demanded.
“We’ll get it to you,” Harold assured her as he walked her out of his office.
Less than four hours to rework something that had taken weeks to put together. Chelsea looked at Ellen. “What now?”
“Now you need to work some magic.” Ellen stood. “Let’s go.”
Chelsea followed her boss out of the room, the tension returning ten-fold.
She received the unspoken message loud and clear.
This was all on her.

Four hours later Chelsea watched the new ad and smiled, the tension of the morning finally dissipating. She’d done it. “You’re a genius, Kylie,” Chelsea said to the video editor who’d reworked one ad in record time. “I owe you big time.”
“Dinner’s on you next time I’m in town,” Kylie agreed and hung up.
Chelsea checked the time. Two minutes to midday. She saved the video to the folder along with the updated proposal outlining how to restructure the campaign without Aria. She rubbed her temple where an insistent throbbing had taken up residence three hours ago.
“Are you done?” Ellen walked into her cubicle.
She nodded, pressing print on the proposal. “I’ve redone one ad with a voice over by rock star, Kent Downer.”
Ellen’s eyebrows raised. “How did you arrange that?”
Chelsea smiled. “I have contacts.” It was good to remind Ellen she had value. Her boss didn’t need to know Kent had married one of her friends from primary school. She pressed play on the ad Kylie had reworked.
Kent’s Texan drawl was recognisable on the video and at the end he did a shot to camera standing in his living room wearing an Akubra hat, suitcase in tow as if he was about to embark on one of Tours Australia’s tours. The video quality was excellent.
“This is fantastic,” Ellen said.
Chelsea grinned as she fetched the proposal from the nearby printer. “We’ll need to arrange payment to Kent for his work.” Aria had never been a great representative of Australia, whereas Kent’s transformation from goth rocker to guy-next-door rock star after his secret identity had been revealed was perfect.
“How much?”
She named a very reasonable price. Kent hadn’t wanted any money, but she wasn’t letting her boss have him for free. “Is Vivian coming back here for the presentation?”
“Harold and I are taking it to her,” Ellen said. “Get some lunch and I’ll let you know how we get on when we return.” Ellen took the proposal and walked away.
Chelsea watched her go. She liked her boss, but Ellen was very career focused, and willing to blame mistakes on others rather than admit they were her own fault.
Chelsea lowered herself into her chair, enjoying being back in her space. She’d been excited about touring around Australia for the campaign, but then she’d had another project which had kept her in Melbourne for a month, and she hadn’t been at her desk for about six weeks. She watered her small pot plant. It was looking sad, its leaves wilted.
“Chelsea, I’m getting souvlaki for lunch,” Jo called from the cubicle next to hers. “Do you want one?”
“Yes, please.” She transferred money into Jo’s account.
“Crisis averted?” Jo asked in a murmur, coming to stand at her cubicle.
“I hope so.” She swallowed two headache tablets. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for twenty-four hours, but her inbox was already full of emails asking her to comment on Aria’s post, and she needed to update Toni on the progress.
Maybe Aria was right. Maybe it was time she did something else, something she had more control over.
She shook away the thought. She had a steady, well-paying job she enjoyed… most of the time, a tidy apartment and a good relationship with her family. She was grateful for what she had. It wasn’t right to wish for more. Life had taught her how hard it was when she didn’t have stability.
She wouldn’t risk her security on a whim.
With a sigh, she got to work.

“Chelsea, can you come into my office?”
Chelsea glanced up at Ellen’s voice and checked the time. She’d been working solidly for three hours. Ellen and Harold must have spent a lot of time smoothing the waters at Tours Australia.
She followed her boss into the office and Ellen closed the door with a click.
Chelsea stiffened. Ellen only ever closed the door for performance reviews. This wasn’t a good start. She pushed through the unease as she sat down. “How did it go?”
“Tours Australia were pleased with the proposal. We’ve pulled down everything from last night’s launch and issued a statement distancing Tours Australia from Aria’s comments. We’ll release the first video in the new campaign by the end of the day.”
“That’s great. Did they agree to the rest of the celebrities?” She’d put together a list of celebrities who could do voice-overs for the remaining campaign. They were all people she’d worked with before and who she believed would do it.
“Yes.” Ellen paused, a deep frown on her face.
Chelsea waited, knowing there was more to come.
“There’s one more thing,” Ellen said. “Tours Australia have requested you no longer work on this campaign.”
Chelsea jolted. “Why not?”
Ellen glanced at her desk before sighing and meeting Chelsea’s gaze. “They feel as if you didn’t choose the right celebrity endorser.”
Chelsea gaped as disbelief coursed through her body. “But Vivian insisted on Aria.” And she had the documentation to prove it. Chelsea had worked so hard on this account. They’d set a ridiculous deadline for the work to be completed and because they were a big client, Viral Posts Media had bent over backwards to make it work. She was exhausted trying to please Vivian.
“Vivian is also extremely influential in town. If she doesn’t recommend us, no one will touch us.”
Chelsea bit her lip to stop herself from saying her stepfather also held a lot of clout. It wasn’t a card she was willing to play. She exhaled, thinking of the positives. It would give her more time to work on her other accounts. “So I’ll hand the account over and continue with the rest of my work?”
“I’m sorry, Chelsea. Tours Australia stated they wouldn’t recommend Viral Posts Media while you work here. I tried to talk Harold out of it, but they’re our biggest client.” She cleared her throat. “I must advise you that your employment at Viral Posts Media is now terminated.”
Chelsea shook her head. “You can’t do that. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve worked my butt off for this company for the past five years.” She’d been the one to win them the Tours Australia account.
“I’m truly sorry,” Ellen said. “I’ll write you a good reference.”
This couldn’t be happening. “Effective when?”
“Immediately. I’m to escort you from the premises.”
Chelsea studied her boss for any signs of a joke, but she stared back, sad but unruffled. “I could report you to the Fair Work Tribunal.”
Ellen nodded. “But you won’t. You’re not that kind of person and you won’t get another job in the industry if you do.”
She was right, but Chelsea had bills to pay. Her brain whirled as she considered options, pushing down the panic that wanted to take control. “I want a redundancy package,” she stated. “My four weeks’ notice plus my accrued long-service leave, annual leave, and my sick-leave paid out.” It wouldn’t be a lot, but it would be enough to tide her over. It also gave her the option of saying she wasn’t fired. Not that word wouldn’t spread fast in this industry.
Ellen stared at her for a long moment and then gave a small smile of approval. “I’ll get HR to organise it now. Why don’t you pack your things?”
Chelsea got to her feet, her movements stiff. This was really happening. She blinked as tears threatened to form but straightened her spine and returned to her cubicle.
She tapped her finger rapidly on her thigh and then clenched her hand to stop it. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were plenty of other agencies in town. Not all of them would believe she was tainted. She’d have a job in no time.
She took three slow breaths as she considered her next steps.
There wasn’t anything personal on her work laptop. She opened the desk drawer and pulled out her stash of tea bags and snacks, putting them into a reusable shopping bag she kept in her purse. She fetched her coffee from the freezer in the kitchen and retrieved her mug. Then she returned to her cubicle and went through the other drawers.
Her favourite fountain pen and her personal organiser went into another bag and then her hand hovered over the framed photo on her desk. Aunt Maggie, a ten-year-old Chelsea, and her mother at Lilydale Cottage. Happier times. It was taken before her mother met Chelsea’s stepfather. They’d gone to visit her mother’s aunt, Maggie, at Lilydale Cottage like they regularly did, and the photo was taken in front of the bed of pink and red roses that were blooming so beautifully.
Those days at Lilydale were the best. An escape from everyday life where Chelsea could run through the gardens and play with her friend Lauren, who lived down the road. It was before she was old enough to get a part-time job to help with household expenses.
She’d adored Aunt Maggie and had written her letters every month when they’d moved from Rockingham to Sydney and could no longer visit on weekends. Aunt Maggie had insisted emails were too impersonal.
A jolt of longing passed through her. What would it be like to return to Lilydale? Would it be the same without Aunt Maggie there?
Tears threatened to overflow and she sniffed, tucking the photo into her bag. Chelsea had been devastated when Aunt Maggie died last year.
“Are you OK?” Jo poked her head over the cubicle wall.
Chelsea swallowed hard so she could speak. “I’ve been made redundant.”
Jo’s eyes widened, and she hurried around the wall to hug her. “That’s not fair.”
Chelsea sniffed again and cleared her throat. “It’s been nice working with you.” The words came out as a whisper and she turned to check her drawers again. She had everything that was hers.
“At least Aria got what’s coming to her,” Jo said.
Chelsea frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The fashion show dropped her.” Jo grinned. “They saw her post and said they didn’t want to be associated with those kinds of opinions. A bunch of the other brands she normally models for are also distancing themselves.”
“That’s great.” It gave some measure of comfort that Aria was dealing with the ramifications of her comments, but right now Chelsea had bigger concerns.
Ellen returned holding a contract and Jo made herself scarce. Chelsea reviewed it and then signed the bottom and handed her key card to Ellen.
Ellen walked her to the elevators. “I’m sorry, Chelsea. I wish you all the best.”
Chelsea nodded, unable to speak. This was it. She was no longer employed. She grabbed her suitcase, managed a smile at Meg before she stepped into the elevator.
It wasn’t until the doors closed and the elevator descended that she let the tears fall.