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Wait.
What?
No, you read that right.
That was Mason.
Only he hasn't walked in.
People are gasping and pointing to the television.
He's sitting there next to the anchor on Market Pulse.
"Hi, everyone," he says with a smirk; the same smirk he's used on me many times. I can see his eyes shift slightly. "Hey Becca."
He can't see me, but somehow my cheeks turn red at being recognized by him.
But wait a second.
He's on TV.
He can't see me. Right?
Did he just say 'Hey Becca?'
You're not supposed to be able to see two ways through a television, right?
Apparently a lot of people are wondering the same thing too because they're talking amongst themselves and pointing.
Mason smiles as if he's amused through all this.
"In the future, you may want to turn on the television for the two-way video screen and not just leave the camera running, folks," he says on live TV. "Because right now I can see and hear the whole thing logged in from my computer. I've been there for quite a while now. And Becca was right. Do I have quite a story to tell you."
All of a sudden, Mother notices something.
And she turns very, very white.
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Mason
Actually, thinking about it right now, this is probably the highest ratings that Market Pulse is getting today.
The last time they probably had ratings this good was the last time I was on their show. Jesus, it feels so long ago that I was fucking Stacy Sawyer and I fucking shot my load all over the camera lens.
I know, I'm shaking my head as well, Gorgeous. I can't believe I did that.
The truth is, I was lost at that time.
Sure, I called myself the Bad Boy of Wall Street or the King of Wall Street, but all I really was doing was just fooling myself into thinking that I wasn't a lost little boy.
I mean, every other word out of my mouth was "fuck."
That's still the case a lot. Old habits die hard.
But fuck, think about what I used to do and compare it to now.
To my life...after Becca.
