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I had to hand it to him—if he was at all surprised by my line of inquiry, he did a great job of hiding that fact.
“Excuse me?” He blinked slowly, and although I didn’t know him very well, I got the distinct impression that below the cool calm exterior was a choppy sea—a tsunami of rage waiting to wash over me, and drag me under with its pull.
“Xavier. Cross. As a friend of his, I wondered how you dealt with taking a backseat in the face of his colossal ego. I mean, lore has it that Xavier Cross is the alpha dog of alpha dogs. Do you have to put your own not-insubstantial ego aside to be part of his inner circle?”
“Who said anything about being in anyone’s inner circle?”
“Nobody did. Well, not in so many words, anyway. On the other hand, when you’re fielding calls from one of the most influential people at the college, and answering them the way you did yesterday, it’s a fairly safe assumption.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the cliché about assumptions exists for a reason. You as a journalist should probably be more wary of them than most. Although, that’s not the point here. The point is that my private life has nothing to do with my sporting life, and, therefore, isn’t relevant to this interview. I’m just going to pretend you never asked the question, and we’re going to go back to topics that actually make sense. Or we can call it done, and I’ll happily front up to the Dean and Coach, and let them know exactly why this isn’t happening.”
“Do what you feel you need to. You just don’t seem like the sort of person to be a foot soldier in someone else’s army.
“Ms. St George, as I said before, I won’t be answering any questions that aren’t directly related to football.”
“I’ll have to respectfully challenge you on that assertion. I don’t consider this unrelated to football. I’m of the firm belief that you can tell a lot about a leader by the company they keep. I’m merely trying to extrapolate from yours.” I was also of the firm belief that I hated sounding like a pompous ass, but there I was, doing exactly that.
“What I do off the field is none of your goddamned business, period.”
“Hmm...Well, regardless of the question and your refusal to answer it, if I’m to present the world a day in your life, I’m going to need to get to know more than just what happens on the field, and before and after you enter the locker room.”
“So are you saying that you want to come into the locker room with me?” Fuck.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
“Next. Question.” The icy chill in his voice sent a shiver of fear, and something else—anticipation, maybe—down my spine.
“What advice do you have for those aspiring to the position you’re in right now? What’s the secret of your success?”
“There’s no secret or magic bullet. I’m blessed with certain physical attributes that put me on this path, but those things alone are not enough to dictate how someone will travel that road. The rest is due to focus, hard work, determination. All of those things help us shape and harness our own luck. Without them, success is a lottery, and I’m not, and never have been, a gambling man.”
“Spoken like a true leader.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His smile didn’t meet his eyes.
“Which is the spirit in which it was meant.”
“Hmm... In that case, you need to work on your delivery. It sounded like an insult.”
“Noted.”
He was right of course. I was being snide, which was not unusual, but he, being a Master of the Universe, instead of just taking it like most people did, called me on it. I should have had the guts to admit that I was being facetious, but pride got in the way. I rarely gave a damn what other people thought about me. I was so used to being seen as the bookworm loner that it was a badge I now wore with pride.
Plus, in my line of work, not being part of the “it” crowd was something of an asset, as was not really seeming like a threat to anyone, until it was too late. The subtle art of hiding in plain sight was a powerful tool in a hack’s armory.
Regrettably, Mr. Hamilton seemed to be more observant than most. He’d spent the majority of the interview regarding me with cool detachment from his perch at the edge of the couch—poised and alert as though ready to take flight at any moment—his serious inky eyes impenetrable. His demeanor put me on edge, which I was sure was no accident. He was trying to maintain the balance of power by not ceding too much, despite the flow of information going from him to me.
“I’m bored of talking about me. What about your friends? What do they say about you?”
“I’m not the subject of the interview. Nobody wants to hear about my life. Besides, the idea is that you can tell a lot about a leader by the company they keep, so...”
“So what’s your point?” I didn’t miss the irritation in his voice.
“I’m not a leader.”
“You run a newspaper. You don’t believe the press plays a leadership role in our society?” He cocked an eyebrow, unsubtly laying down the gauntlet. It was a shrewd move, and one I hadn’t predicted from him. I was beginning to think I’d underestimated him.
“I run the college newspaper and I have a ‘staff’ of exactly one person. I don’t think anyone is about to start handing out Women in Business Awards to me just yet.
