Sex Says

He raised both hands in the air. “All right, enough with the patronizing of the boss. Let’s get to the actual point of this meeting so I can call my wife and let her know her little assistant trick will not work on me again.” He half smirked and shook his head.

“Fantastic idea, Joe,” I agreed. “I’d really love to know what the point of this meeting actually is.”

“Well,” he said and glanced at Miranda. “Would you like to take the lead on this one?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Yeah… No. This is why you have that cushy office. Because you get to deal with these kinds of things.”

“What kinds of things?” I asked and looked back and forth between them. When no one responded, I knew Joe was trying to push something off on Miranda. She was his favorite professional buffer.

The last time she’d played this role, we’d ended up with one less columnist on our team…

My eyes went wide. “Oh. My. God. Are you firing me?” I stood up from my chair in absolute shock. “Holy shit! You called me down here to fire me?” I shrieked.

“Jesus.” Joe’s hands went to his ears. “Your column is a favorite among our female readers. You’re not getting fired. So please do me a favor and avoid making that sound for the rest of my life.”

I looked at Joe and then at Miranda. “Okay, so then, what’s going on?”

“Have you happened to go online at all today? Like, Facebook…Twitter…YouTube?” Miranda asked.

I shook my head.

“Sit back down,” Joe instructed, and surprisingly, I listened. He flipped Miranda’s laptop back open and tapped the keyboard a few times. “So, this YouTube video has gone viral, and it’s well… Just watch it first.” He turned the screen toward me, and I was faced with a guy, smoking a cigarette and talking directly to the camera.

Holy hell. Who the fuck is this guy?

I mean, I was pretty sure he was talking…speaking words…something along those lines, but I was focused on his face.

Vivid blue eyes.

Firm jawline.

Dimples in his cheeks that appeared when he flashed a sexy little half smirk.

Seriously, he was really, really good-looking.

He was one of those guys that every woman would do a double take just to believe he was real. Lucky for me, no double take was needed here. I could continue to stare at him like a creeper, and he would be none the wiser. I honestly had no idea why Joe and Miranda wanted me to watch this guy’s YouTube video, but why question motives that led to eye candy like this?

He glanced down at the newspaper in front of him. “Sex Says…The byline reads Lola Sexton…” His insanely blue eyes looked at the screen again. “…and if you are, in fact, a real person, Miss Sexton, I entreat you.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register in my brain, but when they did, my eyes went wide and I looked at Joe. “Wait…what? Did he just mention my column?” And when he started into some diatribe about me dictating to my readers, I stopped gawking at his stupid looks and started to get really pissed off.

“Is he bashing my fucking column?!” I shrieked.

Joe winced. “Apparently, this guy isn’t a fan of your column.”

I mean, I didn’t expect everyone to love my column, but I also didn’t expect someone to so blatantly call me out when they had a differing opinion.

What in the fuck was this guy’s problem?

This had to be the biggest asshole move I’d ever witnessed in my life.

Fuck this guy. I didn’t care how good-looking he was. He could take his blue eyes and cocky smile and shove them straight up his ass.

“What the hell?” I muttered as I continued to hear the bullshit spew from the dickhead’s mouth. “He hates my column so much that he made a YouTube video about how much he hates it?” I shrieked again, and Joe covered his ears this time.

I jumped up from my seat, knocking the leather chair my ass was resting on to the ground, but my eyes stayed fixated on the screen. “You’re an asshole!” I shouted and pointed at the screen. “No, not just an asshole, you’re a fucking asshole!”

But he couldn’t hear me, obviously, and just continued talking until he brought his hate parade on home with the last words, “And Reed This, Sex Says: There’s someone out there for everyone, but good luck finding the right person for you when you’re pretending to be someone else.”

“What in the fuck did I just watch?” I glanced at Joe and then at Miranda. “I mean…seriously… What was that?”

“Well…if it makes you feel any better, he managed to bring a lot of publicity to your column. My phone’s been ringing off the hook all day,” Joe updated.

My eyes narrowed. “How did this stupid video bring publicity?”

Instead of answering the question with words, Joe showed me with the cursor of the mouse, slowly dragging it across the screen until it rested below…

3,456,798 views

My jaw dropped to the floor. “This video has over three million views? When was this posted?”

“Apparently, he just posted it last night.”

“It hasn’t even been live for twenty-four hours, and it already has over three million views?”

It was safe to say calm was a memory. Joe covered his ears again, and Miranda grimaced.

“This isn’t bad news, Lola,” Joe said, and I glared at him. “It isn’t,” he repeated. “This guy’s video just brought a national spotlight to your column.”

“By basically telling the world he thinks I’m an idiot!”

“I know this doesn’t feel good, but I’m telling you, Lola, this is actually good. There are interviewers, newspapers, TV stations…” He started to explain, but I couldn’t listen to his words. I was too fired up.

“What’s this guy’s name?” I cut him off midsentence.

“Reed Luca,” Miranda chimed in.

I stomped toward the door, and Joe called to me, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find this asshole.”

“Lola! I don’t think—”

Those were the last words I heard before the door to the conference room slammed shut behind me. I was a woman on a mission, heading straight for the elevator, and then to the front stairs, and then outside to unlock Daisy.

I hopped on my bike and pedaled as fast as I could until I realized I was actually heading in an unknown direction and I had absolutely no strategy when it came to finding the know-it-all, asshole vlogger.

Shit. Sometimes, I was too impulsive for my own, rational good.

My phone pinged with a text notification, and I pulled it out of my pocket to read a text from Joe.

The Devil: For the love of God, do not kill him.

Me: What’s his phone number? Email address?

The Devil: I don’t know.

Me: Joe… I know you well enough to know you probably have this guy’s home address by now. And if you don’t give me something, I will stalk this bastard on every form of social media until I find him.

The Devil: Lola, you need to remember that you are the face of a column for the San Francisco Times. And anything you do will reflect back onto the paper.

Me: I promise I won’t kill him.

Joe texted me the asshole’s email address a minute later. And fifteen minutes after that, I was in my apartment and sitting in front of my laptop ready to give this guy a piece of my mind.

To: Reed Luca

From: Lola Sexton

Subject: Hello, Asshole

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

You are an asshole. Name the time and place and I will meet you there and I will kick your ass.

I paused after that last sentence.

Jesus. I sound like a middle school boy ready to brawl outside the schoolyard.

I had to take a different approach to this email. I mean, for one, telling this guy I wanted to kick his ass was a bit ridiculous. And two, the fact that I would be riding to that fictional fight on my bicycle that had pink wheels and a basket didn’t scream intimidation. And three, I actually wanted to meet this guy. I wanted to speak to him face-to-face, where he couldn’t hide behind a goddamn camera.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

I had to be professional about this. As much as I wanted to tell this guy to choke on his own penis, I had to take the high road. And then, when I got to chat with him in person, I could tell him off with that whole penis-choking scenario.

Good fucking idea, Lola.

To: Reed Luca

From: Lola Sexton

Subject: I saw your video…

Hello Reed,

I hope you are having a pleasant day. I saw your YouTube video directed at my column, and I would love to discuss your opinions further.

Would you be willing to meet up sometime this week?

Sincerely,

Lola Sexton

So much careful control in one little email.

I would love to discuss your opinions further.

On the surface, it was benign. But underneath all of that, I sensed something else—a bomb waiting to explode. There was so much subtle power packed in her seemingly simple words, and I wasn’t even sure how I could tell. Normally, I needed a face-to-face encounter to read a person’s intentions, but something about what I knew about Lola from her column and the careful way she’d arranged her words when emailing me spoke to violence I wasn’t sure I’d ever witnessed.