Page 13 of The Close-Up
“I figured a handshake would be a little more professional than vomiting on your shoes.”
He chuckles. As we stand in front of each other, palm pressed against palm, I can’t help but notice the way my heart thuds, the way my breath quickens. I’m holding the hand of my twentysomething fantasy. It’s warm and soft and firm all at once—and it feels so damn good. Too bad it’s the most physical contact we’ll ever have.
“Right. Professionalism.” His voice is a soft growl that makes my mouth water.
When we finally let go of each other, I’m hot all over.
I reach for the doorknob and give Simon a quick smile as I turn back and tell him good-bye. Then I’m out the door, every inch of my skin engulfed in invisible flames.
If that’s what a handshake with Simon Rutler does to me, would I be able to survive anything more?
As I make my way down the street, that flame inside me slowly dies down until it’s a tiny ember. I can’t ever find out the answer to that question—not if I want to play it safe for my job.
“Ten thousand. Can you believe it?” Fiona says as she sticks her head into my office, beaming.
It’s midmorning the day that Simon’s first interview segment has gone live on the Dash website, and it’s gotten ten thousand-plus views in the first two hours. This is the best viewership any interview of mine has ever gotten.
She darts back to her office as stratosphere-levels of excitement rocket through me. Ever since we left each other in a cloud of palpable sexual tension the day I interviewed him, I haven’t had the nerve to contact Simon. Because if I were to reach out, I know it would turn into a flirty exchange, just like every other conversation we’ve had so far. And I can’t have any more of that. Must stay professional.
But Ididpromise to send him the link to his interview. Heisthe reason Dash’s website is overloaded with views.
I text Simon a link to the video.
Me: Hey! You’re a hit! 10,000 views in less than two hours.
Simon: Holy sh*t that’s a lot of views.
Me: You’re a hot commodity. And do you always self-censor your texts? LOL
Simon: New Year’s resolution. I’m trying to swear less this year. And I don’t know about hot commodity.
Me: You are most definitely a hot commodity. Accept it.
I scold myself right after sending that message. That’s a bit on the flirty side.
Fiona walks back into my office, and I set my phone down so it hopefully looks like I’m giving her my full attention.
“Put all your current projects on hold. You’re doing a full-blown series on Simon.”
“Wh—I am?”
“Absolutely. With numbers like this, we’d be foolish not to turn this into a series. Obviously viewers love him and want more.”
“Oh, um...”
I internally scold myself. If this were any other work assignment, I’d be ecstatic. This is what every Dash editor and producer wants, and it normally takes five-plus years of an impeccable work history before you’re trusted with a series. And here I am with the opportunity dropped in my lap. No way should I let my crush on Simon affect that.
I straighten up in my chair, feeling enlivened.
“Okay, how about this: I embed with Simon. Follow him at work, during his seminars, and a few one-on-one sessions with a couple of clients. I could give an inside, close-up look into his home life too. People are dying for a taste of something real.”
For a second she’s quiet, and I panic that my idea is too far off the rails and borderline inappropriate. But then she clasps her hands, clearly thrilled. “Yes! It’ll be this unprecedented deep dive.”
Fiona goes on about how we can market it almost like a TV series for the site. I smile at her enthusiasm and propose eight additional episodes.
“I love it,” she says. “We’ll air the next two segments from your original interview with Simon later this week as planned. And we can plan for the premiere episode of the series to follow soon after.” She tilts her head at me. “That was a damn good off-the-cuff pitch. Creative. Raw. Viewer-driven. Well done, Naomi.”
Fiona trots back to her office while I take a moment to process what happened.
