Page 63 of Chosen

My article went live this morning?!

I nearly hyperventilated as I clicked over to the website, my hands shaking as I waited for the page to finally load. A few seconds later and I was staring at my article on the very front page, thousands of comments already underneath it.

“What the fuck? What the fuck,” I softly whispered under my breath, my heart beating way too fast in my chest. I knew for a fact that I’d only uploaded a draft of the article to the site, and I distinctly remembered Anthony giving me 72 hours until he put it up in full…

And yet, somehow, I was looking at it right now.

Before I knew it, my phone was in my hand, Anthony’s number already dialed and loaded.

“Hey! Sam! There you are—”

“What the fuck, Anthony?” I screeched. “You already put up the article? I wasn’t even finished formatting it yet—”

“Yeah, I know. I fixed the formatting.” He brushed me off. “And why do you care if it went up a little early? Can’t you tell you’re the belle of the ball here? People are loving your work.”

“I don’t care if people love my work. I wasn’t finished with it. There were still things I wanted to say—” I stopped myself, mid-sentence, as a wave of anger rolled through me. “You don’t get to decide when I’m finished with my work, Anthony. No one gets to decide that but me—”

“Listen, Sam? I can tell that you’re upset here.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I let out a derisive scoff. “Of course, I’m upset.”

“What if I made it all better for you?”

“Made it all better for me? How? By taking it down?”

“What? Are you crazy?” Anthony chuckled. “Taking it down wouldn’t be better for either of us, trust me.”

“In that case, I think we’re done talking for now—”

“What if I offered you a permanent slot on the site?” He interrupted. “As in, I dedicate a spot on the website to you and your more serious interviews. Like, a weekly feature.”

“Are you serious?” I sat up in my seat, bringing the phone even closer to my ear. “Are you saying you’d let me do what I’ve always wanted to do? A deep dive with artists?”

“Buddy, I’ll let you do whatever you want to do.” Anthony chuckled again. “As long as it brings in results like this. This article of yours is charting higher than anything else we’ve done all year. I’ve even got other entertainment blogs asking how we did it.”

“Whatever I want to do?” My heart soared, even though I tried my best to keep the excitement out of my voice. “Anthony, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Was this really happening right now?

Were all my dreams coming true right in front of me? Being able to have my own corner of the internet, on a huge platform like Anthony’s site, with the opportunity to decide what kind of interviews I wanted to do and how? It was like being given a golden ticket, a key to a city where I also got to decide who lived in it and design all the roads.

Full creative control.

It was the kind of thing any entertainment writer would’ve killed for, and it was falling right into my hands.

“Of course, if you end up with a weekly feature, you’ll have to work out of the Atlanta office full-time,” Anthony casually added. “No more road trips to Yellowstone or wherever. I’ll need you front and center if we’re going to break stories like this together.”

And just like that, my dreams were burst open like a balloon.

“Full-time in the Atlanta office?” My voice cracked as I spoke, my eyes glancing over toward the bedroom. “But I… why couldn’t I just work from anywhere? So much gets done online now, anyway—”

“That’s just not the way I want it, Sam,” Anthony said, cutting me off with a sigh. “If we’re going to be a team on this, I like to know where you are, what you’re up to. Keeping it local is how the best people do it and a smart cookie like you already knows that.”

“Give me time to think about it?”

“Fine. But not too much time,” he replied. “And if you take too long, you’re really going to hurt my feelings over here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have an answer for you soon,” I murmured.

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