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“You’ve got some sort of knight-with-a-tarnished-soul complex,” Oz said.
“And you are…?” Graham asked. The waitress arrived, and he took plates from her, setting them in front of the right people.
Oz dumped a notable amount of hot sauce on his hash browns. “No tarnish here. I’m infatuated with an incredible mind and body, and the woman made up of it all, and I want to see her succeed.”
Violet would tell me no one was Oz’s level of kind and adoring without wanting something in return, but I was. I didn’t do nice things on barter. Did that make me naive and get me in trouble?
Sometimes. Tiff was a great example. Was I happier with my decisions, regardless? With seeing the genuine and good in people? Without question.
I also wanted to keep this conversation on track. It seemed every time we swerved just a little, the guys slammed into each other’s guard rails. I grabbed my phone to make notes of my own, and frowned at three more emails telling me thanks but no thanks to my resume. That was six total out of fifteen, all rejected before ten in the morning. That couldn’t be good.
Nothing to do for it but move forward. “Next steps in this plan. What do I need to do?”
“You talk to every person you know, or who’s connected to someone you know, who has a public presence. You ask for airtime, especially if they have a big social media following.” Graham made it sound easy.
It couldn’t possibly be. “What do I talk to them about?”
“Yourself. Whatever you’d like. Whatever they ask you. You can focus on what you did five years ago, creating a patch for the malware, if you’d like, but mostly talk about what you enjoy doing in your free time. Who you are.”
Uh…yawn? “No one wants to hear that.”
“I hate to say it, but I think he’s onto something.” Oz’s demeanor changed in an instant. It was subtle, but I was skilled at seeing stoic lighten into reserved.
“I need a script, or a primer, or something.” I babbled when I was under pressure. Or froze. Which would be worse?
“You really don’t,” Graham said.
Oz squeezed my knee. “You’ll shine, no matter what.”
I didn’t see what they saw but arguing wasn’t getting me anywhere. “It can’t be as simple as getting on a few podcasts and livestreams.”
“It’s not,” Graham said. “But that’s your next step. Get on people’s schedules, the sooner the better. While you’re doing that, I’ll put the framework in place to tie everything up. The SEO. The URL’s. Send me your schedule as you have it, and then we’ll move to next steps.”
“Which are…?” Oz prompted.
Graham waved a hand. “Programming. Luna and I have it.”
“I’ll help.” Oz wasn’t asking.
“No offense—”
“Plenty meant, I’m sure.” Oz’s words were abrasive, but his tone and posture were still more casual. “I know my shit as well as you do, old man.”
Graham scoffed. “You’re seriously calling me old.”
“I’m doing it facetiously. Who made an arcade reference in his analogy?”
“And who understood it?” Graham countered.
Was this where they’d finally come to blows? Was being watched over by two sexy, brainy men worth it if they were constantly threatening to fight?
Oz’s chuckle caught me off-guard. “Guilty as charged,” he said.
Did chest thumping just become bonding? Was that hot or a bit too caveman for me? I shouldn’t be so fuzzy on the answer.
“If you’ve kept your skills fresh, we could use your help.” Graham worked his jaw. “If you can follow directions.” He seemed to add as an afterthought.
“Directions, yes. Orders not so much,” Oz said.
