"Prime?" Ethan's voice held a note of confusion as he looked down at the colorful bottle of drink placed before him on the pristine restaurant table.
"Yes, Prime!" came Max's enthusiastic response, his voice bubbling with excitement. "No sugar, packed with electrolytes, coconut water, and BCAAs. It's hydration without the guilt. Clean, powerful, effective."
Ethan gave a small nod, trying not to look too overwhelmed by the energy radiating from the man sitting across from him. He glanced at Bill beside him, who simply gave him an encouraging smile. They were in a quiet, upscale restaurant that hadn't even opened for regular hours yet, handpicked for this private meeting. Beside Ethan sat Rebecca, his PR manager, who had arrived with him from the tour bus. She had her tablet on the table, but her full attention was on the two men seated across from them.
Ethan had been relaxing just a while ago with Sydney and the rest of the crew on the bus when Bill's message had popped up: "Come out. Big opportunity." Now here he was, facing what appeared to be the pitch of a lifetime.
He examined the bottle again, noting the bold letters: PRIME. The design was sleek but loud.
"Prime ehn," Rebecca's voice cut into the silence. "The name seems kind of on the nose."
Ethan turned sharply, giving her a warning look. "Becca..."
Before he could say more, one of the men chuckled and replied, "Yeah, we came up with it back in high school. Simple. Easy to remember."
"And is this an energy drink?" she pressed, her tone calm but firm. "Because the name and the bottle shape kind of scream Gatorade knockoff."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Becca," he said again, this time sterner. He couldn't believe how forward she was being.
But Rebecca didn't flinch. She turned slowly to him, thinking, This beautiful simpleton. She had a reason for being here, and it wasn't to play nice.
Bill had called her that morning, telling her to show up and be brutally honest. This was a new drink brand, and with the way things were heading, Rebecca could already read the situation: Bill wanted Ethan to be the face of it.
As Ethan's PR manager, she understood exactly what that meant. Endorsing a new product wasn't just slapping Ethan's face on a billboard. It came with enormous risks. One single unsavory news item about the product — shady ingredients, bad reviews, lawsuits, or a viral video showing someone reacting poorly to it — and the backlash wouldn't fall on the two men across the table.
It would hit Ethan. Hard.
His image, his brand, everything he had built could come crashing down. The public wouldn't care who actually owned the company or who ran it. All they would see was Ethan's face on that bottle.
So if Rebecca had to be blunt to prevent a disaster, she would be. Her job wasn't to make people feel comfortable. It was to protect Ethan from bad PR.
She repeated, slowly and clearly: "Is this an energy drink? Or a hydration drink? And if it's the latter, how is it different from existing brands like Gatorade or Powerade? What makes Prime unique beyond the buzzwords?"
Max shifted slightly. The smile remained, but it was less confident now.
"It's a hydration beverage. Not technically an energy drink. There's no caffeine. It's more like a functional sports drink. What sets it apart is the ingredient profile. Like I said — no added sugar, coconut water, electrolytes, BCAAs, antioxidants..."
Rebecca leaned forward, tapping her tablet. "And where are the bottles manufactured?"
"Uh... we have factories in the U.S., but also some in Mexico. Packaging is handled by a partner company based in Illinois."
"Ingredients sourced from?"
"Various places. The coconut water is from Southeast Asia. Electrolytes are synthesized domestically. It's all FDA compliant."
"Are the ingredient lists and nutritional values independently verified?"
"Yes. We have certifications. We can send them over."
"And allergen risks?"
"Minimal. We disclose all major allergens. It's nut-free, dairy-free, gluten-free."
The Back and Forth between Max and Rebecca continued as she kept on asking questions about the process and factoring and all as max kept answering back
While that was going on, Trey—the other man at the table—began to frown. He'd been watching the girl—Rebecca—with growing irritation. They'd sat down with plenty of celebrities before, some even bigger than Ethan. Not one had asked half the questions she was firing off like bullets. well, they didn't ask questions mostly because they didn't even give them the time of day even still Logan Paul, KSI—they'd both signed on without batting an eye.
But this girl?
She wanted to know where every single ingredient came from. Even asked about the bottle cap. Where it was made. What it was made of. It was insane.
Getting visibly fed up, Trey turned toward Bill, who was seated off to the side, relaxed but observant.
"We weren't expecting an interrogation," Trey said, his tone clipped.
His words dropped like a stone in water. The room stilled. Even Max paused mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he muttered under his breath, "Shit."
He knew that tone. They'd been friends since high school. He knew how short Trey's fuse was. If it flared now, things could spiral. He was about to jump in, to defuse it—but Rebecca beat him to it.
"All this is necessary," she said smoothly.
Trey turned toward her, jaw clenched. "Knowing where the bottle cap's made is important?"
"Yes," Rebecca replied simply, staring at him.
The silence that followed made Trey's molars grind. He opened his mouth, but again, she cut in—calm, measured, sharp.
"Let's say Ethan signs on today. Then, six months down the line, news breaks that Prime contains a preservative linked to health issues. Or—God forbid—that your bottle caps are sourced from an exploitative labor factory overseas. What's the mitigation strategy?"
Trey bristled. "That won't happen. We made sure of—"
"It shouldn't," Rebecca interjected, voice firmer now. "But if it does? Your brand might take a hit. But Ethan? He'll be crucified. Social media won't say 'Prime messed up' — they'll say, 'Ethan promotes toxic drink to fans.' You see the difference?"
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between them. Her words weren't just true—they were loudly true.
Trey's nostrils flared. But before he could say a word, Max placed a hand on his arm.
"We get what you're saying," Max said quickly, voice calm. "Some of the questions are a little... intense, sure. But we're not out here promoting anything toxic. We're good people. We've worked hard on this. There's a secret blend in the formula—it's proprietary. We can't just hand it out before there's even a deal."
Rebecca didn't flinch. "Nevertheless, before Ethan proceeds with anything, I'll need everything. Ingredient list. Factory compliance certifications. Sourcing chain. PR crisis strategy. Past consumer feedback reports. And your marketing rollout plans. Then we can talk about Ethan's involvement."
A hush swept through the table.
Ethan turned to her, eyes wide. "Everything?" he asked, bewildered.
He gave the two men an apologetic shrug. "She's not always like this."
Rebecca smirked. "Yes, I am."
Trey's expression twisted, about to bark back—but Max jumped in.
"Okay, okay," he said, fast.
Trey shot him a sharp look. "Max—"
"It's fine," Max said under his breath. "We'll have them sign an NDA about the proprietary stuff. That should be enough."
Bill, who had been quietly observing from the side—his chair slightly reclined, arms crossed, an amused smile tugging at his lips—finally leaned forward. He was glad now more than ever that he'd insisted on bringing Rebecca. As an agent, he could see the wide view of things. But when it came to PR and brand protection, Rebecca operated on another level. He remembered the label calling her a PR genius—and now, watching her in full throttle, he understood why.
Rebecca nodded once. "That's reasonable."
Trey grunted, clearly still annoyed. Max offered a small smile in Rebecca's direction, and Ethan exhaled, almost smiling back.
Then Rebecca shifted again. "And assuming everything checks out—what's your marketing goal?"
Max and Trey exchanged a glance.
Rebecca arched a brow. "Your marketing team. What's the strategy once Ethan's the face? TV spots? Digital rollout? Limited editions? Collaborations?"
Still silence. Max scratched his head. Trey blinked. Finally, Max admitted, "We, uh... We spent most of the budget on production. We don't exactly have a marketing team."
Trey grinned. "We've got Ethan, don't we? He's a superstar. That's better than a hundred ads."
Rebecca slowly dropped her forehead into her hand.
"Men," she muttered.
Then she straightened. "Ethan's fanbase is about 70% teenage girls and adolescent young women. That's your dominant demographic, but they're not your natural demographic for a sports drink. You'll need to position it so they want it. You need angles—health trends, aesthetic branding, influencers, maybe a cause behind it. Sure, Ethan has sport crossover appeal—his Super Bowl halftime stint was gold—but you still need structure."
She paused. Then, bluntly, "You need a marketing team."
Max and Trey looked at each other like deer in headlights.
Bill leaned forward, raising a hand. "Let's table the marketing talk for now. One step at a time. First, we get the data. We review the details."
Then he turned to Ethan. "And you? How are you feeling about this?"
Ethan hesitated. "Honestly? I'm not sure yet."
Bill chuckled. "Fair. Then how about we start here—" He gestured toward the bottles on the table. "Let's have a taste."
That earned a chuckle from Ethan, who reached for a bottle.
Even Rebecca, curious despite herself, grabbed one as well.
They both twisted open their drinks.
And just as the bottle caps clicked off—