A quick perusal ofThe Looking Glass’s ClikClak channel reveals some of the other stories that have been submitted. I think my stuff is better, but you never know exactly what they’re looking for. I need something to elevate myself to the next level.
But as I try to think of what I can make a video about next, my mind wanders back to last night.
I should text Callaghan and see what he’s up to.
No, I shake that thought from my head. I don’t know what’s even going on between us. I try to convince myself there’s nothing going on. That it’s purely physical.
I’m such a liar.
No matter what, though, I’m not going to be one of those people who use him for his status. It’s been something he’s dealt with his entire life. I’ll figure out how to make my career without pulling him into it.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I anxiously swipe it open, hoping it’s him, even though I know he’s busy.
Ophelia: Okay, I’ve got a crazy request for my wedding, but I’m afraid to ask. Will you tell me if I can do it?
I can only imagine what it is if Ophelia thinks it’s out there.
Me: Shoot.
Ophelia: So, you know how Xavier likes birds and all? I want to release doves at our wedding. Can I do that at The Tower?
I try to picture how this would work. The wedding is going to be on the fourth floor in the library room. It’s got high gilded gold ceilings and, as we’ve already established, none of the windows open.
Me: Um, well, it’s indoors, so I imagine they’d only fly up to the ceiling. They’re like 23 feet high, so it would be a pain to capture them again. And they might poop on your guests.
Ophelia: Right. Good point.
Me: Plus, do you think they could survive in Boston if we let them out? I mean, I know doves are basically pigeons, but are they going to be white? That’s like the kiss of death in nature.
Ophelia: It’s the middle of winter. Maybe they’d blend in with the snow. Instant camouflage.
Me: Or get hypothermia. Don’t birds fly south for the winter?
There’s no response for a while. I didn’t mean to burst her bubble, but it’s not practical to release doves. But she could probably have one in a cage.
Me: What if you had one in a cage and didn’t let it go?
Ophelia: Will they let me do that?
She’s got a point, and I’m sure there’s some code against it. On the other hand, I probably won’t be working there much longer, so what do I care?
Me: Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Ophelia: OMG, YES. I OWE YOU ONE. BIG TIME.
I stare at her words, wondering if she really means it. But then a text from Gunther pops up.
Gunther: One of our other applicants just upped the ante. Time to pay up or fold.
Shit.
My gaze darts back to Ophelia’s last text. She owes me one. She really does.
Me: So I’m applying for a sports reporting job, and I need stories for my social media that relate to sports. Any chance you would be ok with me mentioning that you’re having a wedding?
Ophelia: Will it continue to make that douchewaffle reporter from ESPN look bad?
Me: 100% yes
