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“Because he doesn’t care about my mental health,” I guessed. “Because he wants me to lose my mind. Maybe he thinks it’d be funny.”
“So? What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can do.” I sighed. “Move the article up and hope that it’s not a complete dumpster fire.”
“But I don’t get it. I thought he barely wanted you to put this thing out at all—”
“Well, the wind must’ve changed. Now, it seems he believes in the piece and thinks it’d be great for the site.” I rolled my eyes as I quoted Anthony’s email. “This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, either. He’s always against anything different until he thinks it could actually make him money.”
“Shit. Well…” Damon let out a tired sigh. “If you’re going to need to focus on getting this article out, the least I can do is make it a little easier for you.”
“Easier for me how?”
“For starters, I could cook dinner for you.” Damon smiled, already heading toward the kitchen. “Just give me a few minutes to come up with something you’ll like, and I’ll get it started.”
* * *
Am I breaking out into hives?
I’m breaking out into hives.
The new deadline felt like a permanent itch on my skin as I stared down at my laptop. I’d managed to get through all of the interview questions from each celebrity, sorting through them by emotional component, ranging from the saddest to the happiest answers.
But nothing was coming together. I still had no idea how to arrange them on the page, or which entry point to use to make the most compelling article come to life. As the stress moved through my body and directly into my brain, I noticed the distinct scent of garlic and onion wafting through the air. I followed the smell of it, soon standing in the kitchen with Damon, my eyes lowering down to the pan in front of him.
“That smells really good,” I started, as I watched him cook, ingredients shifting around in the pan.
“Good enough to get you away from that laptop,” he joked. “Seriously. You’ve been staring at that thing for a full hour.”
“It’s been an hour?” I grimaced at the realization. “Oh, my God. I didn’t even feel time passing by.”
“How long do you think you’ll be able to stay at that job?” Damon asked. “Before it fully breaks your brain?”
“Probably not much longer. Unless Anthony gives me a huge raise, then I can probably handle a bit more brain-breakage than usual.”
“You said you wanted to be an artist profiler, right?”
“Yeah…” My words trailed off as I quirked an eyebrow. “But I don’t know what that has to do with anything. It’s a total pipe dream.”
“Is it?” Damon pressed. “Because it sounds like you’re doing what you want to do right now. Not writing a puff piece. Not focusing on celebrity gossip.”
“Sure, but it’s still under Anthony’s banner—”
“Does it have to be?”
“Are you asking me about striking out on my own?” I let out a nervous laugh. “As in, me, trying to run my own website?”
“Why not?”
“Because that would be… a lot.” I subtly shrugged. “I’d have to hire my own writers, think about the design of the thing, make sure I have enough content to keep it going…”
“And you seriously think you’re not up for the job?” Damon looked over at me with a grin. “Because if anyone’s able to keep a tight ship running, I think it’s you, Sam.”
“Don’t.” I shook my head. “Don’t put those fantasies in my brain, please. I need to use all my energy on this article. If I start daydreaming, I’ll never get it done.”
“I’m just saying, you should consider striking out on your own. I think you’d be a lot happier—”
“But if I strike out on my own, when will I find the time to spend with you?” I asked, casually trying to change the subject as I moved closer to Damon. “Do you know how busy I’d be setting up something like that? I would barely see you, even if we were in the same city. Hell, even if we were in the same cabin.”
