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I Google Graham.
I swipe over pictures that chronicle nearly every move he’s made in the last two years.
He’s a real celebrity. Not just Instagram famous. I had no clue. They’re calling him one to watch, the next big television personality.
He’s still got his private personal training business, but now he’s got a workout app.
And he’s modeling.
He’d changed so much. I watch some of the videos on Gawker, and even the way he walks is different. And then, I see a picture of him eating with his “friend” Nanette Mannerman. There’s another picture of them walking out of an office building together. She looks like she’s only gotten younger. Her signature skin tight black dress does everything for her body.
I read some of the comments under the pictures. Most of them were about how gorgeous Graham was. But some were more insidious. Saying things like “Must be nice to have a golden cock.” Or “She’s his Sugar Mama. I wish I could afford a piece of ass that hot.”
Alarms sound in my head. Graham sleeps with Nanette because she has money? Would he do that?
I swipe through all of the pictures until I can’t stand it anymore. I hit the back button on my browser until I’m back at the original search.
The top hit is an article dated two days ago. The headline reads, “Graham Davis Talks Sex and Love”
I open it and hold my breath while it loads.
The article starts with a huge picture of Graham. He’s dressed in a navy blazer suit with a navy-blue button down that’s open at the throat. He’s laughing, leaning toward the camera, with his beautiful white teeth which look a lot straighter than they did last time I saw him. He’s always had a great smile, but his smile used to have character. Now, he looks … I search my brain for the word. It’s not unauthentic or contrived. It’s more like he looks like he’s been packaged.
As I read the article, I realize that’s exactly what he is—a product.
It opens by telling the reader all about his viral YouTube channel and his line of workout socks that are about to hit stores.
I press play.
Graham and a woman are sitting across from each other in those chairs movie directors sit in.
He’s dressed casually in jeans and a light blue sweater. The beautiful woman across from him, who the chyron identifies as Amber Roberts, is wearing a skin tight red dress that makes her beautiful nutmeg complexion glow. Her stunning face is blessed with the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen on another human being. Her red lips are parted in a breathtaking smile as she listens to something Graham is saying while the intro music to the interview is playing.
I’m tempted to press the fifteen-second skip button, so I can hear the interview. But I don’t want to miss a second of looking at Graham. So, I suffer through watching her bat her eyelashes while he talks, his hands moving expressively, and his gaze on the face of the beautiful woman he’s talking to.
Jealousy surges back to life, and after almost three years of lying dormant, the green monster is very well marinated. I’m about to close it when they start talking.
I pull my finger off the screen and turn up the volume on my earbuds.
“So, Graham, what’s it going to take for you to give up your notorious bad boy ways and settle down? Asking for a friend.” She looks at the camera, winks and mouths, “Not” with a coy smile.
I want to barf.
Graham laughs like he actually found that lame-ass joke funny.
“Well, tell your friend I said it would take a miracle,” he deadpans, and she titters.
I am yet to understand what the hell is so funny.
“You are breaking hearts all over the world right now. Say it ain’t so. Do you still have that notorious PussyPhone?”
I gasp. What in the world?
He laughs and shakes his head as if it’s funny.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. At this point in my life, I’m having a good time.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
She looks down at a note card on her lap. I can’t believe she actually prepared these idiotic questions.
