My Best Friend's Brother(2)By: Amy Brent
I heard them whisper that Mason Baker was here.
I knew I was going to nail this interview. I always did. But never had I found anyone I’d interviewed this hot. I mean, I could feel my pussy heating up for crying out loud. That was beyond unprofessional, and it wasn’t a road I was willing to travel down again, not after I’d caught my ex-boyfriend making out with who was now my ex-host.
It really wasn’t a big deal. I’d gotten the bitch fired within five minutes of figuring it out. Then, I took to kindly blasting them on social media. I made it apparent that the show does not tolerate unprofessional behavior of any kind, especially when it hurts multiple people involved. I told my fans that I’d interviewed senators and mayors and governors caught in scandals where they’d cheated on their spouses, and I took those accusations seriously. I used the moment as a platform to take a stand against men who manipulated, abused, cheated, and otherwise dealt anything else less than full respect to women they claimed to love.
Especially after what I’d endured in high school.
“You’ve got about ten minutes. You okay?” she asked.
I double-checked my makeup in the mirror before I gave her a confident smile. I stood from my chair and embraced her, pulling her close to me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in this town, and I would always respect her and love her for allowing me to talk to her before every single show I did.
“You know I appreciate you, right?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. I know,” she said. “I just have to remember not to make out with your boyfriends. I quite like my job.”
We giggled one last time before I shook my head at her. I walked out of the room and down the hallway, smoothing out my outfit one last time. I got to the entrance of the stage as they were running the intro to the show, and then it was time for me to take my place on stage.
I walked up to the middle of the stage as the crowd cheered. Cameras panned around me, and I waved to the audience. Then, I made eyes with Camera 3 as it panned around me. I waved to my at-home audience and blew them a kiss like I did every show. I drew in a deep breath and started the opening I’d rehearsed in the makeup room.
“Good afternoon, Dallas. How’s everybody doing?”
The crowd of people erupted into cheers as I clapped for joy.
“Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs himself, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick around because it’s going to be a doozy.”
I walked back to my chair and took a sip of water while the credits for our sponsors rolled, and it gave me just enough time to fluff my hair before the camera was back on me.
“I could go on and on about the man standing backstage, but something tells me he wants to do that himself,” I said, winking. “Without further delay, welcome into your homes Mason Baker.”
I stood from my chair as I watched him come out from behind the screen. He was even taller in person, standing at a looming six-foot-four. His beaming white smile contrasted with his tan skin wonderfully, making his peridot eyes sparkle more than ever. His thick, luscious mane of dark hair was parted to one side, combed back expertly as his gray suit tailored itself to every curve and dip of his strong, throbbing muscles. He shook my hand, his palm dwarfing me, and for a second, I could’ve sworn he winked at me.
“Mr. Baker, thank you for your time. I’m so glad you could be with us,” I said as I sat down.
“It’s a pleasure. Anything I can do to educate the city of Dallas is all right by me,” he said.
The crowd whooped and hollered at his statement while I simply shook my head.
“So, tell us a bit about this product. How in the world did you come up with a concept like this?” I asked.
“To be honest, I can never find my wallet. Ever. And I got sick and tired of hunting it down at the last minute only for it to make me late. I tried going online and finding something that could work, but everything on the market was subpar.”
“Define subpar,” I said.
“Products were either not reliable, only detected a product within fifty feet of the base, or was simply too bulky to do anything with,” he said.
“Never in my life did I ever think too bulky could be a bad thing,” I said, grinning.
“Depends on where the bulk sits, I suppose,” he said.
I felt his eyes heavily on me, and it took everything I had to keep pushing through the interview. I could feel a flush creeping up my neck, threatening to burst forth on my cheeks and destroy the professionalism of this interview.