Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Elias picked it, obviously. He always chooses places with character and good lighting and a maître d’ he knows, because who doesn’t Elias know, really?
I spot him at a corner booth and move his way. He rises, sleeves rolled to the forearms as if he’s ready to do serious work. There’s a half-empty bourbon neat on the table beside a martini glass, and I note that Elias wears his signature amused smirk that usually precedes a story I don’t want him to tell in public.
“Still allergic to being on time, I see,” Elias says as we embrace.
“You’re lucky I showed up at all,” I reply.
“You walk or fight your way here?”
“Bit of both.”
He nods, smiling but reading me like always. Elias Reed has a presence that doesn’t need to ask for attention. Casual, always in control, but never loud about it.
“Figured you could use a drink. Bartender owes me a favor, so I told him to make yours strong.”
“God bless.”
I take a sip of the martini and glance around. This is Elias’s kind of place. He always knows the spots with a back entrance where you don’t have to worry about the person next to you live-streaming their meal on Instagram.
“You know,” he says, studying me, “you’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one you had sophomore year when you were about to torch the campus paper for misquoting a protester.”
I raise an eyebrow. “They did misquote her.”
“And you did torch them. Elegantly. Publicly. While eating an everything bagel.”
“That bagel was the only thing keeping me from throwing a chair.”
“God, I miss that version of you.”
“She’s still here. Just better dressed.”
Elias and I met freshman year at Duke, during some awkward, half-hearted ice cream social on the quad. He was wearing a leather jacket in ninety-degree heat, holding court about media ethics. I was wearing boots, melting in the sun, and stole his waffle cone because mine sucked.
We’ve been each other’s first call ever since, whether it was a professional or personal success or crisis. We’ve been there for each other for the ups and downs. So it’s only fitting that when I lost my job at Contour, Elias was there for me. His family has that level of wealth where they buy things not to make money, but just to say they own them.
Like professional hockey teams.
And since I come from a world where paying my monthly rent requires I hold a job three hundred and sixty-five days a year, I immediately took Elias up on his connections, which include his uncle Julian who owns the New York Vipers. With just a simple phone call, I had a job offer.
It certainly wasn’t my first choice and I put in calls to the other top fashion magazines, but none are hiring. Sure, this role isn’t in fashion, but it’s PR and in New York, and the two worlds often intersect. More importantly, working for Elias’s uncle at least allows me to continue living in Manhattan with a start date that ensures this month’s rent will be paid in full.
“So, how is Uncle Julian?” says Elias as he takes a sip of his bourbon.
“You know, I haven’t properly said thank you for doing what you did,” I tell him, ignoring his request for a family update.
He raises a brow, clearly surprised. “For what? I just made a call. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. You made a call that got me a job. Three days ago, I was being iced out of the magazine industry for asking the right questions. Now I’ve got a chance to redeem myself and I’ve got a salary with benefits.”
Elias waves a hand, brushing it off like it was easy. Maybe for him it was.
“I’m serious,” I press. “You didn’t have to go to bat for me, especially not with your uncle. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the second-chance type.”
“He’s not,” Elias says with a laugh. “But he is the desperate type when it comes to keeping the Vipers relevant and winning. And Grizz? He’s an expensive disaster waiting to get suspended into early retirement. Julian needs someone who can rein him in and I think you’re perfect for the job.”
I fiddle with the olives hanging off the edge of my glass. “That’s the part I’m not sure I can do,” I say finally.
Elias sets his glass down, suddenly more focused. “What do you mean?”
I exhale. “If you think Grizz is just a troubled superstar, you’re wrong. He’s a full-blown demolition site with a smile. He doesn’t trust anyone. Doesn’t listen. I’ve read all about the drama he caused at the end of last season. He’s used to being the sun while everyone else orbits him. The man picks fights with the press for sport. You should’ve seen his face when Langley introduced me.”
“I bet he loved the idea of a fixer with a press pass.” Elias smirks.