Page 49 of Stolen

“Yeah, no. I don’t think anyone wants to read about that,” I said, almost missing the ball toss. “Maybe save that for your memoirs? That kind of stuff tends to kill when it’s in book form.”

“Actually, there might be something there,” Jacob added, before he held up his hands. “Wait. Shit. Am I allowed to talk without the ball?”

“There’s only one rule!” Diego reminded him, as he kicked the ball over to Jacob.

“Right! Got it!” Jacob nodded. “Anyway, yeah. I don’t think we should focus on childhood trauma, but maybe we could focus more on the guys? Like doing mini-interviews?”

“Mini-interviews? As in, you want me to get in contact with their managers and come up with a list of questions?” I frowned. “Because that could take weeks to approve.”

“Leo is right. That kind of thing can be a huge waste of time,” Keith said, the ball in his grip. “We represent way too many brands between us. The pipeline is going to get clogged.”

“What happens if we do it, anyway? And ask for forgiveness later?”

“That’s a huge risk, Jacob.”

“I don’t know. Could be worth it.” Tommy hummed. “But what are we thinking for the photos? I’m worried we’re running out of unique angles for those.”

“The trauma!” I excitedly shouted, as the soccer ball almost whizzed by my head.

“What?”

“Not the trauma, not exactly what I meant.” I shook my head, a wild grin still on my face. “I just mean, what if we do a photoshoot that’s about what all of you wanted to be when you grew up? Your first loves? People would be shocked to see Diego with a soccer ball, just like we were.”

“I could do something with a green screen set-up. Since I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up,” Andrew suggested. “I think I packed a suit, too.”

“I could do like a sexy police officer sort of thing? Or a firefighter? I always wanted to be the tough guy rescuing people.” Chris tossed the ball between his ankles.

“Sure, but why does it have to be sexy?”

“Because I’m sexy?” Chris seemed puzzled by the question. “What else am I going to look like, Andrew?”

“What about you, Keith?” Tommy asked. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“A famous basketball player—and oh wait—looks like my dream came true.” Keith beamed.

“We can work with that.” Tommy shrugged. “Try to put you in a jersey, make it look oversized, make your shoes look too big for you. Still get the kid feeling going.”

“Uh, super interesting how everyone’s talking like this is already a done deal?” I chimed into the conversation. “Sure, we could try it and ask for permission later, but worst case scenario, we don’t have a usable photoshoot.”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that you won’t be able to finesse everyone’s manager? You don’t have any contacts that could push this through for you?” Jacob quirked an eyebrow, while the rest of the guys stared at me, waiting for me to respond.

I let out a heavy sigh before I spoke. “Maybe I could make it work?—”

“He’s going to make it work!” Diego cheered first, and the rest of the court followed behind him.

“I said maybe! Maybe!” I repeated, my words being drowned out by the celebration. A few seconds later, and I was being lifted into the air by Diego, Andrew, and Chris, now cheering my name in unison.

“Leo! Leo! Leo! Leo!”

“Jacob! Tommy! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” I playfully screamed out, as the guys proceeded to carry me off the court and back into the hall.

“Areyou working on your laptop and your phone? At the same time?” Jacob asked as he walked up to my table in one of the lobbies. I’d been practically glued to my seat ever since I’d been carried off the court, springing into action as I contacted various agents and managers.

As I put together the most inoffensive list of interview questions known to man.

“I’m waiting in a room for a video call on my laptop, I’m on hold in Japan, and I think someone just sent me an email in French.” My voice was lined with panic. “The good news is that everyone’s getting back to me really fast. The bad news is that I have no idea how to pitch this without them needing to run it by a billion committees.”

“All of this? Really? Just to talk about their childhoods?” Jacob took a seat next to me.

---