Page 10 of Just for the Cameras
He just calls it like he sees it, huh?
Well, maybe I will do the same.
Holding my chin up high, I say, “You know what? Yes, I am lying. Because this program means a lot to me and those…those birds that you seem to think are pink-feathered dipshits on stilts, they mean the world to me too.” His brows rise. “Yeah…I heard what you said. And you might not want to be here, but I do, and I want nothing more than to help out these birds that have done nothing to the human race other than grace us with their beauty. So…buck up, mister.” I clear my throat, my nerves getting the best of me as I shakily hold my finger out to him, attempting to give him the scolding of a lifetime. “Because I’m here to say that you…you are now under my jurisdiction, and we…we work here. This is not some cushy job where you can roll in and pretend to put in the work. Unlike the Foghorns, I intend to win.”
My finger shakes as I lower it back down to my hip.
I know nothing about the Foghorns other than that they don’t win a lot.
I know nothing about him other than that he’s the largest man I’ve ever seen in real life.
And I know nothing about his work ethic other than that he clearly has no problem insulting things before he even gives them a chance.
But there is one thing I do know: my insult does not go over well.
When my eyes meet his, I wince as I watch his expression grow dark and angry. And for a moment, I get the sense that the look he’s giving me is the same one he gives his opponent right before a match.
Is that what they call it?
A match?
Honestly, I know nothing about football.
What is a defending end, anyway? Is that what Phil called it?
Either way, his nostrils flare, his teeth grind together, and his chin juts out in anger.
Oh boy…
He steps in closer, my eyes even with his nipples, causing me to have to crane my neck back to look at him.
Speaking in a dark, rather deathly tone, he says, “You know nothing about my work ethic.”
My legs shake under me, his intimidation factor winning, because boy oh boy, do I wish I was anywhere but here, in the path of a goliath of a man holding back his transformation into what I can only imagine to be a beastly, snarly mythical creature that eats chest cavities for a snack.
But to my credit, I don’t back down.
“Yeah, well…prove me wrong,” I say, the need to pee my pants as we stand nose to nipple very evident.
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“But you do have to prove something to the public, right?”
“I do what the fuck I want.”
Still shaking, I respond, “Ah, so it was your idea to come here and play with pink birds?”
His nostrils flare even wider, and he takes a step back, his jaw tight and his anger billowing. I think I know why this man plays football. It seems like he has a lot of aggression built up inside him.
“Just send me the schedule when it’s ready.” He blows past me and tears open a door, walking right into a closet.
“Exit is that way,” I say, pointing to another door as he swears under his breath.
Wow, this is going to be so much fun…
CHAPTER 3
GRAYDON
