“Look, there are tons of people doing good every day. Most people don’t care unless you make them care. We’re all too trained to shut down from all the shitty, shitty details of life and the billions it screws over. We’re all selfish and self-centered, serving our own needs until someone makes it affect us personally. So, how can you do that?”
Jeez. All these years I worked with Neil, partied with him at clubs, held his hand while he cried over some guy with a mustache, and he’s never seemed as smart as he is right now.
“Well, Bram is hot.”
“That helps…” he says, perking up noticeably.
“And his partner is even more so,” I tell him, and I find myself smiling dreamily as Lachlan filled my head. “He’s a rugby player from Scotland.”
He sat up straight. “Is he a big deal?”
“Oh,” I say with a smirk. “He’s big.”
“You know this personally? What about your vow?”
I exhale, loud and exaggerated. “No, I do not know this personally. I just saw him last night at the bar. And he…he’s…just such a man. I can’t explain it. He’s probably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. And he’s built like a redwood.”
“Like a North Cali redwood?” he asks excitedly.
“Just like,” I tell him, happy I have someone to talk about my sudden obsession with. “He’s covered in tattoos, he’s got money, he’s got lips you just want to suck on.”
“Amongst other things.”
“And I think someone mentioned he’s good at what he does. He was in the World Cup for Scotland a few times I think.”
“Shiiiiit,” Neil says with a grin, waving his hand in the air like he’s sprinkling pixie dust on me. “Kayla, there’s your angle. The hotness. And the celebrity.”
“You just said no one cares about celebs doing good. And I’m not sure he’s a celebrity just because he was in the World Cup of Rugby. No one watches that.”
“Well, he’s a celebrity back home, maybe. And if he’s not, you’ll write him as one. That’s always more interesting. Besides, you know the audience for this magazine—women and the gays.”
I smirk at him. “Has anyone ever told you that if you weren’t so gay and cute, you’d be totally offensive?”
“That’s how I get away with it,” he says with a wag of his brows. “So, go and do this. Interview him. Forget the other guy. And see if you can get some photos of Mr. Redwood. Nude, preferably. You know lots of rugby players pose for nude calendars. It’s, like, their thing.”
My smile suddenly fades. Interview Lachlan? “Can’t I just, you know, write about him without actually talking to him?”
He stares at me like I’m a moron. “How will you know what to write if you don’t know him at all?”
“I could ask Bram,” I say hopefully.
“No,” he says. “You have to interview the guy. Why is this an issue? You should be jumping all over this. And then him.”
I tug at my hair nervously. “Well, it’s just that…he’s not, like, super friendly. Or talkative. And I don’t think he likes me.”
“You mean he hasn’t fallen for your charm yet?” he asks caustically.
I give him all the glares. “Not yet,” I tell him. “But it’s not like I was even trying last night.”
He shrugs. “So go try. You want this story, you have to work for it. Looks like writing it might be the easiest part.” He wiggles in his chair, all self-assured, seeming happy that I’ll learn what a hard job he actually has. I won’t give Neil the satisfaction.
“Fine, I will,” I say, then strut back to my office. I hear him hollering “Good luck!” behind me.
It isn’t until I get back to my desk that the butterflies start swarming in my stomach, and not the good kind. The nervous kind. Ugh. This is so unlike me.
Before I can think it over, I dial Bram’s number and hope I don’t catch him in the middle of doing something with Nicola. You can never predict her hours, nor their horniness.
“Kayla?” he asks, obviously surprised.
I plop down in my seat and wheel it away from Candace who is pretending not to watch me. The girl watches everything I do, like she’s taken job shadowing just a little too far.
“Yeah. Hi, Bram.”
“Did you talk to your boss?”
“I did, but listen…I’m going to write the article.”