Page 5 of Fake It For Glory

MERIDA

Iwanted to bang my head against my desk. My fingers had been poised over my keyboard for a good thirty minutes but there was a disconnect. More like a malfunction. My brain would not come up with words. The article I was supposed to be writing was stilted and dull. I had zero interest in pumpkin-spice anything and was struggling to show any enthusiasm for the topic.

I leaned back in my chair and let my eyes wander around the bullpen in search of inspiration. The TV mounted in the corner was on the usual morning show. Sometimes, our publication was referenced, and it was a chance to catch breaking news. I saw the man that I was anxious to investigate—Jensen Loxley.

I got up from my desk and got a little closer so I could read the closed captions. He was talking about his AI. It was the story I craved to investigate and write about. I was about to go back to my desk to watch on my phone when Dalton noticed me.

He smiled and picked up the remote that was always on his desk. He turned up the volume. Everyone in the bullpen knew what that meant—shut up. Something big was happening and it was important to hear. I walked even closer, giving Dalton a thumbs-up to thank him for helping me out. I listened to the man talk about how his AI was going to be a mother to everyone.

I watched the man closely. Not only was he crazy smart, but he was also ridiculously attractive, which was why he was such a hot topic right now. My father didn’t get it.

Jensen Loxley was the total package. Black hair perfectly styled in the latest rockstar fashion with it just a little longer on top. His square jaw exuded strength and confidence. He was clean shaven today, but I had seen pictures of him sporting a bit of a five o’clock shadow, and damn did it do something to my insides. The thick black brows and eyelashes made his green eyes stand out. The man could have been a model. He was that hot. Women went gaga for him. He wasn’t even my type and I was hot for him.

“This is going to be a disaster,” I heard someone say.

I reminded myself I was supposed to be listening to the story, not ogling the man sitting so casually in his bespoke suit and Gucci shoes. Jensen smiled at the camera. The temperature in the room went up at least twenty degrees. The women were all slack-jawed, with a couple of them fanning themselves.

“How does someone get that much beauty and that big of a brain?” One of the fashion writers shook her head. “Seriously, he is the definition of the total package.”

“Maybe you could focus on what he’s saying,” one of the guys muttered.

“He’s going to create a robot species that takes our jobs,” someone said. “Remember that Will Smith movie? This asshole is the guy that’s going to make it happen.”

“You could use some guidance and discipline in your life,” Dalton countered.

“No way,” one of the younger people said. “I think it would be cool to have someone doing the stuff my mom used to do. I hate making dentist appointments or appointments in general. I hate talking to the people over the phone, so I usually just don’t do it. If that thing had my birthday and social security it could pay my bills and cancel all the stupid memberships I somehow get signed up for. I keep the memberships because I hate calling.”

“That’s a very good point,” I said, nodding.

I listened to the interview before it went to commercial break. It gave me the itch to write. I quickly walked back to my desk. The fall scent article was still sitting half written on the screen. I switched over to the article I really wanted to write. Jensen’s name was in bold at the top of the page. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaled, and let my fingers do the talking. They flew over the keyboard as the words flowed from my brain to the tips of my fingers.

The opinion piece was going to be a hot topic. I just knew it. I made sure to use the keyword Lox to grab everyone’s attention. It was all everyone was going to be talking about. Jensen Loxley had just broken the internet, so to speak.

I kept the piece focused on the tech and left out the fluff that so many of the other pieces got distracted with. Yes, the dude was gorgeous, but it was his brain that interested me. I wanted to know what made him tick. If I could get an interview with him, it would make the article really hot.

The back of my chair moved. “Doing it anyway?” Dalton said with a small laugh.

I looked up and saw him reading over my shoulder. I quickly minimized the document. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed and moved to sit on the edge of my desk. “I’m not going to say anything. I think you should write it. From what I saw, it’s good.”

“It’ll never go anywhere. It’s just something I want to write. If I have to write about candles all day every day, I’m going to cut my fingers off. I need to feel like I’m doing something with the fancy degree I got. Anyone can write about scents and decorations. I just want to do the job I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl. I know it’ll never get published, but just to make me feel better.”

“I think you should write it,” he said. “Seriously. Write it. I’d love to read it when you’re done. I want to see what you can really do. I have a feeling you’re going to be some serious competition. You might take my job.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. My father sees you as his golden goose.”

“You’re going to get there one day, Merida. You’ll find your groove. You’re going to find your lane and you are going to own it.”

“Thank you for the support,” I said, smiling. “Maybe you can be my dad.”

“Hey, I’m not that old. Actually, I want to run something by you. Come back to my desk with me.”

I followed Dalton to his desk, curiosity getting the best of me. As we walked, I couldn’t help but think about what he had said about my writing. Could it really be that good? Could I really be competition for him? The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. I had yet to be taken seriously as a journalist. My father barely even read what I wrote.

At his desk, he pulled up a document on his computer. “I’ve been working on this project for a while now,” he said as he motioned for me to take a seat.

“What is it?”