Tyed(61)

This one is difficult. I'm not good at selling myself. I could sing the praises of Izzy, Shane, Bree, Mikey and even Ty...but telling people about my strong points? Ain't happening. Still, I need to say something, so I do.

“I graduated from Diablo Hill School of Art recently. I majored in communications, and I’m very enthusiastic about my career. Professor Penniman was kind enough to recommend me after reading my assignment in journalistic reporting. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to be interviewed here.”

Jesus. I just bored myself to sleep. I believe Cam has the same reaction, because he nods at an even pause, which means what he’s really doing is thinking about what he should have for dinner tonight. He presses his knitted pointer fingers to his lips, probably thinking of a way to break the ice.

“What do you know about sports?”

“Very little. People usually sweat but not always.” I downplay my knowledge so he won’t have any expectations. A shout-out to all my underachiever peeps. High five!

“Follow any sport? NBA? NFL? XWL?”

So, editor Cam has not been reading TMZ. Good.

"I follow the XWL whenever I can." I inwardly cringe when I say this out loud, because I really do condemn MMA as a sport, but I'm also aware that this is my strongest selling point at the moment.

"Yeah?" He scans me with an arched brow, obviously calling me out on my bullshit. "That's good, because we may have a local titleholder soon, and someone will need to cover that."

I gulp hard. "I think Ty Wilder stands a good chance of winning the championship."

Cam smiles, suggesting that I passed an unspoken test. He slaps his desk and straightens up quickly. "I think I need a caffeine fix. What about you?"

I think I need something stronger, like a shot of vodka or maybe crack cocaine.

"Sure, coffee sounds good." I follow him to the door, fidgeting with the hem of Izzy's designer shirt (too tight, as per usual).

Cam cocks his head to my outfit. "You do know that we don't really have a dress code here, right? You don't have to be all buttoned-down. We’re a creative group."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God, because I feel like an accountant in this outfit."

Cam smiles. "Oh, and we have cool stuff like pizza Friday and a pool table and PlayStation and Xbox in the common room. We’ve even got Wii. And a terrific sound system, of course."

"I can work with that." I hitch one shoulder noncommittally. Cameron laughs and we roll out to the sunny afternoon. He immediately lights a cigarette and a pang of regret pierces through me. I would love to come home today and smoke a joint, take the edge off, but I know that I won't. Weed is no longer a part of my life, with or without Ty in the picture. We make our way to a local coffee shop and get our coffees, then Cam motions for me to follow him back to the office. We walk down the hallway but continue to talk. It's nice, knowing he can't examine my face while I answer his questions. It's less intimate, somehow.

"So when can you start?” Cam asks as he pushes his office door open. I curl my fingers around the hot paper cup, thinking about Ned’s. I don’t want to leave there. But I know I’d be stupid to turn down this opportunity.

“I'll need to check with my current employer, but I think a month's notice would be sufficient for them.” My heart pounds in my ears.

“And what do you think about us hiring you?” He turns around to face me before we enter his office. His eyes sparkle behind his hipster glasses

“I think you're doing the right thing. I'm kind of pleasantly surprised with my journalistic abilities.” I feel the smile spreading across my face. I discovered that I'm good at something these past few months, and I can't wait to show it off to the world.

Cameron grins and motions for me to take a seat in front of him. We're back to square one. He is staring at me. I'm staring back. Baby, I got my staring lessons from a fighter. I will stare back at you right until my eyes bleed.

“You and I are going to get along just fine. And you’ll meet a lot of awesome people here. My friend, Emilia, is the editor of the culture section, and I’m sure this one’s right up your alley. You can contribute to the cultural section too. Your portfolio will pile up quickly.” He seems to be at ease with our constant eye contact.

“Wow, I’d really like that.” I don't know how much fun it's going to be working on sports items, but if I ever get anywhere near culture and music, I just know I'll thrive.

“Well, then, Blaire, tell your employer you’re done serving drinks. Welcome to the Diablo Hill family.” Cameron winks. And for the first time since Vegas, I’m actually smiling not just out of politeness but for real.

Cam wastes no time throwing me in the deep end. He ignores the fact that I still need to hand in a month's notice and fills me in on a piece he wants to publish this month—an editorial article about a new performance enhancing drug named Exo. He tells me Exo stimulates the production of red blood cells and is very popular among athletes, even though it's been proven that the medication, originally invented to treat cancer patients after chemo, increases the risk of death. In fact, Exo stimulates the growth of certain tumors, so by using Exo, a lot of athletes are risking their lives every day, just to get better, stronger and faster at what they do.