Page 28 of Teach Me To Sin
Warning sirens go off in my head. “That wasn’t the original plan. Why did they change it?” I don’t like this. I wanted the two of them out there together, to back each other up.
He bobs one lean shoulder, his thumb drawing pictures in the condensation on his cup. “I don’t run a news station, do I?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’d watch that mouth if I were you. Unlike some people, you don’t have me wrapped around your little finger.”
He just fixes his eyes on mine, slurps his coffee pointedly, then sashays back to his seat.
A woman who looks like a mashup of every generic news anchor I’ve ever seen bustles into the room, adjusting her pink blazer. “Hi, you must be–” she studies my name tag “–Colson. The friend?”
“The legal advisor,” I correct her.
“Oh.” She doesn’t look thrilled; no one ever does when I show up. “Well, I’m Amanda and I’ll be running the interview today with my co-anchor, Craig. I’ll let Alek know when we’re ready for him on set.”
When she clicks away on three-inch heels, taking the makeup assistant with her, Alek swivels his chair to face me. Underneath the strange caking of matte foundation on his skin, I think he flushes a little. The last time we met, I was groping his ass on a beach at two AM.
“Hi there.” He glances down at the very respectable but slightly ill-fitting navy suit he must use for awards dinners and fundraiser galas. “You came.”
Is that really what he thinks of me?I sigh. “Once I make a commitment, I keep it. I might be a dick, but I’m not an asshole.”
Benji’s distinctive giggle echoes from across the room, and a reluctant smile pulls at Alek’s lips. “Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand. I’m a shaky, sweaty mess.”
“Then I’ll just set this here.” Relieved to be done with the blasted coffees, I place the last one on the corner of his dressing table.
His confused eyes follow my movement like he’s never seen an iced latte before. “Oh. Um, thanks?”
“I don’t care if you drink it or throw it out. Or feed it to the bottomless pit over there.” I gesture to where Benji has already finished and is trying to suck sugary syrup off the bottom of the cup. “But I need you to talk to me about why the interview plan changed.”
His dark brows furrow over his solemn, equally dark eyes. They’re glazed with the kind of anxiety where you start to dissociate from reality. “I don’t mind doing it myself.”
“Hey.” I wait until he focuses on me and lower my voice so it doesn’t carry across the room. “That’s not what I asked. Why is Benji no longer taking part?”
He frowns. “This whole morning has been a blur. When he found out he would have to answer questions, he got stage fright.”
I glance over my shoulder. Benji’s cuddled up against the end of the couch with his eyes closed. “You’re telling me that you planned to announce him without knowing who he is, andnowhe’s skittish about speaking in public?” Something tells me the red flag I’m seeing has an entire army of bigger red flags behind it, about to come marching over the hill into full view.
For the first time, his expression hardens. “Cut it out, Colson. This is happening, and I need you to back me up.”
Benji’s insult from this morning comes back to me. “Have you at least Googled his name?”
Guilt creeps in to dilute his anger. “I mean…yeah?”
“And?”
Amanda appears in the doorway. “We’re ready for you, Alek!”
When he tries to push past me, I catch his arm and hold him still for a moment. “And…?”
I expect him to pull away, but he reaches up to rub his face, remembers the makeup, and drops his hand with a huff of frustration. “Nothing, okay? I found nothing. But that’s normal; not everyone has social media.”
“Alright, gentlemen,” Amanda chirps. Shrugging me off gently, Alek follows her out toward the set. “You and Benji are welcome to come watch,” she offers over her shoulder with such a condescending tone that I almost snort.
I consider trapping Benji in this room and grilling him until he cracks, but when I look over, he’s scrambling to his feet. His eyes follow Alek with so much concern it’s like he’s being taken for heart surgery, not an interview. I don’t know what the fuck this boy is up to, but he clearly worships the ground that man walks on. “Come on,” I relent. “If you won't sit on the couch with him, you’re going to stand close enough for him to see you.”
He nods, pressing close to my side as we trail after Alek and Amanda. Alek said they’re pre-recording the interview, not broadcasting it live, but the room is still bustling with crew. Craig and Amanda sit on one couch and direct Alek to perch on the other like they’re having an awkward chat in someone’s living room.
Folding his hands in his lap to hide the shaking, he throws us a queasy but determined smile. I hate feeling my own emotions, let alone other people’s, so empathy is something I avoid. But when I look at the brave lift of his jaw and remember the sound of him sobbing in the dirt just a few days ago, something clenches in my chest, squeezing my heart. He offers Benji a cheesy little wave, then turns his attention to Amanda.
They tell him a bunch of things I can’t hear, which annoys the shit out of me, then count down from five. When the director calls action, Alek breaks out the bright, charming smile he must use for wheedling donations out of stingy millionaires.