Chapter One
“How come I’m suddenly the sports reporter?” Eliot asked the moment he walked into his editor’s office, not even pausing to say hello. He’d been emailed through an interview assignment—a first at this magazine—without even being asked if he wanted it, and it didn’t make any sense at all.
As much as Eliot wished people would take him seriously, he’d gotten very used to being a grooming and fashion columnist at Cocky. He’d built a following, even.
A small following, but a following nonetheless.
Well. A few hundred Instagram followers. It was a start.
If this was him being shoved into a different department where he had no experience—and really, no interest—then he’d have to start looking for another job.
Which made the thousand-dollar repair he’d been told his car needed ten minutes ago seem even worse.
So far, Eliot’s morning wasn’t going well, and he wasn’t in the mood to put up with any other crap.
“Nice to see you, too,” Ben said wryly, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the desk. “It’s not a sports story. It’s an interview with a guy who happens to play sport for a living. You don’t have to know anything about hockey to do it.”
“But why me?” Eliot asked. There were plenty of people better suited to the job, and he had his own work. He sincerely doubted that was going to be put on hold while he did this. It was on top of what he already had to do.
That would mean more money, which would have been nice, but Eliot wasn’t sure there were enough hours in the day.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You know the guy just came out, right?”
Eliot blinked at him. “I’ve literally never heard his name before, so no. We’re not… all gay people don’t just magically know each other, you know.”
“How have you not heard of Danny Harper? The guy’s a hockey legend around here.” Ben gestured toward the window, out to the city beyond.
“I’m not from here,” Eliot said, knowing that Ben knew that. He’d only been in LA for a year, and he’d spent most of that chained to a desk in the Cocky offices.
It had seemed like a dream job at the time. Most of the time, Eliot still told himself that it was. He was getting paid to do what he wanted to do, after all. So what if it wasn’t serious journalism?
Sport wasn’t serious journalism either, although it was probably a step up from shaving tips and Ten Trendy Ways to Tie a Scarf in the eyes of most people.
“Right, yeah.” Ben waved away Eliot’s objection. “Anyway, it’s your assignment. He’ll be more comfortable opening up to you.”
“Because I’m gay,” Eliot said. He didn’t need to ask. He understood now why he was in here.
He wanted to be insulted, though he wasn’t sure exactly how it was insulting. The idea that they’d automatically get along better because they were both gay didn’t really hold up to any kind of logic, but Eliot could see how Ben had arrived at it.
“Yes,” Ben responded, without a hint of shame.
Eliot wasn’t really sure what to say to that.
“I don’t have time to write thisandmy last online column for this week.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Between you and me, no one’s gonna notice if you dial it in for your column.”
That was definitely insulting, but also, unfortunately, true. Eliot could tell himself that he wrote the best damned grooming and fashion tips on the planet—and maybe he did—but no one actuallycared.
As much as he hated to admit it, this was his chance to write something that would at least seem like real journalism.
Even if it was an interview he was only being sent to do because he was gay.
“Hey, listen.” Ben leaned closer, lowering his voice. “This is your chance, okay? You’re good at this job, and you could do so much more than fill a gap in the publishing schedule. I wanna see that. Take the assignment.”
Eliot considered.
On the one hand, he didn’t know the first thing about hockey, and he also didn’t actually care. This was in no way his dream assignment, and he was sure he wasn’t the best man for the job.
