They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but they don’t tell you your career flashes before your eyes when see your career’s over. In the four seconds it takes me to walk over to the couch and sit beside Margo, I figure it all out. We’re getting fired.
They must have found out that Margo and I fucked on Saturday, and there’s probably some policy in our contracts against it. So they’re firing us. I’m gonna lose this job, and when I do, I’m gonna lose everything it gave me. All the purpose, all the direction, all the discipline. Within a week I’ll be shacking up with rich heiresses in the hills, drowsily picking my way through sleeping, naked supermodels in the morning while I look for my pants like a beleaguered war hero separated from his regiment. Back to a diet of cocktails, drugs, and pussy, a schedule of parties, after-parties, and hangover breakfasts. Stalking streets and crowds like a lone wolf looking for a few minutes of relief before he starts the hunt all over again. Until all that’s left is a pathetic old man with nothing to show for it but a ridiculously young blonde on his arm who’s only in it for the convertible ride…just like my father.
I’m not going back to that. I can’t. I’ll move. Start a new life. The East Coast. Colombia. Asia. Anywhere but back there.
I’m already thinking about how much tickets might cost as I lean back on the couch, so lost in my own head I only half-notice that Margo’s wearing her deliciously skimpy cut-off jean shorts. And fuck, poor Margo. Have I just ruined her entire career, too?
“So Owen,” Melissa says, voice as slow as honey, “I checked out the vlog sample you sent me again.”
“Yeah, about that,” I say, leaning forward, already on the defensive. “I messed up by only doing one, I was going to film a second for you—there was a whole bunch of stuff that came up this weekend, right? I haven’t had a weekend like that in—” I feel Margo’s foot kick me hard in the shin just as Melissa cuts me off.
“I haven’t finished,” Melissa says, her voice low, her smile kind, but it still stops me like a whip crack. I’ve always figured Melissa would be a great dominatrix in another life—and sometimes I genuinely wonder if she is in this one. “It was good,” she says, a little balm on the wound. “Maybe you could outline the idea again now, in more detail—so Margo can hear it.”
I look at Margo, whose face is blank and innocent. She already knows all about the vlog, I’ve talked to her about it a hundred times. We’ve spent whole lunch breaks discussing it—but when it comes to Melissa, the best thing to do is play along.
“So…it’s kind of like the articles I’ve been writing—only more entertaining. The idea’s simple: I find dates, go out on them—we film the dates themselves, edit out the boring parts later—and then afterward I talk about how it went. Maybe the girls could talk too, if they’d be entertaining on camera. It’s basic, but there’s loads of room to play with the format. We could make it about using different apps and sites—the experiences of using them, maybe some kind of rating system. I can give advice and answer questions from viewers, just like I do online with the articles. We could talk about different kinds of dates; fancy dinner dates, movie dates, daytime, nighttime, casual hook-ups—”
Melissa smiles and holds up a hand to stop me. She turns to face Margo.
“What do you think of the idea?”
Margo jolts back ever so slightly, glances at me quickly, her eyes big and a little nervous.
“Um…I…I think it’s an awesome idea. Really fantastic,” she says, getting comfortable with the question as she comes to my defense. “You know, Owen’s already got a decent following on our site, he’s a recognizable personality for a lot of our audience. I think they’d really like to follow his journey a bit more. Hear his thoughts, see him in action, and get a sense of where he’s at on a week-to-week basis. The articles are informative and sometimes really funny, but I think seeing him on camera as the dates are progressing would have a lot more entertainment value, and I’m sure Owen’s followers would be thrilled with the new video format.” I can hear her desire to sell the idea to Melissa in her voice, and I try not to smile with appreciation. “I mean, how do the articles do, in terms of the number of likes and shares and comments? That seems like a good way to measure how successful it would be.”
Margo looks at me curiously, inviting me to answer. It’s a softball. She knows I get a ton of views every week, and she’s setting me up to knock it out of the park—but I almost miss the cue because of how much I want to show her my gratitude.
“A few thousand hits a week on average—though I regularly reach the 10k mark. The last article got over fifteen thousand shares on social media. And they’re always toward the upper expectations for comment engagement. Probably because I personally respond to a lot of the comments, take time to answer questions when I’m able to.”
“Well, I think the show is a no-brainer, considering all that,” Margo says, adding the cherry on the top. I almost feel like telling her to be careful, because if she’s any cuter I might lose control and drag her under the desk.
“I’m glad you think so,” Melissa says to her, before the smile gets serious and she leans forward a little. A judge ready with the hammer. “Because you’re going to do the show with him.”
“What?” Margo says, face screwed up like she’s trying to hear something in the walls. “I—me? I don’t understand.”
Melissa leans back, arms crossed, her expression brooking no arguments. “Here’s what I think: The idea’s great, and clearly it would do well. But it needs a little more of a twist, something to make it unique. Otherwise it’s just a nineties MTV reality show segment with better production value.”
“It’s really not,” I interject. “I’m going to really break things down and talk about the changes in—”
Melissa raises her hand, and eyebrow, and a slightly irritated smile, and I feel the lashes on my back again.