Page 56 of Off the Grid

“So this friend of mine was at a pub a few weeks ago, kicking back pints with his mates. A dare was made. Get a phone number of a woman. A woman who you thought would be going home alone that night. Why would she be going home alone, you ask? That was up for the friend to decide. To save his ego, the guy took the dare. He won. Charmed the pants off a girl he had no intention of really dating. She made the first move and kissed him. He made the next and kissed her back.”

He’s talking about us.

Fucking talking about us.

My expression must be a dubious one because Elise pushes pause and says, “Hold on. I’ll make my point when the video’s over.”

She pushes play again.

“Look. The arsehole used her. Plain and simple. Then she found out it was a dare. Obviously, her feelings were hurt. My friend figured he’d never see her again so no harm, no foul.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw and the scrape of stubble can be heard right before his sigh. “But he did see her again. Is he the arsehole for not apologizing to her? Or is the victory, a victory, and he should just take it and run? Should he worry about her feelings and offer an apology or does he carry on like nothing happened? Is he the arsehole or not?”

The video ends and begins to start again, but Elise stops it before it can replay. But even with the video stopped, we can see the number of views and likes ticking upwards.

That’s not what the public thinks.

So that’s what that comment meant.

“The comments are insane. People asking their own AITA questions to him.”

“AITA?”

“Am I the asshole.”

“Christ. Riggs has become a regular Dear Abby.”

“Look at all these people asking for advice. Giving advice.” She stops and looks at me. “Wait. Who’s Dear Abby?”

I laugh and shake my head. That just made me feel old. Granted Dear Abby was in my mother’s time, but I still know who she is. “Dear Abby was an advice column. People wrote in to a newspaper. She answered and they published it.”

“Like online?”

I hang my head for a beat and chuckle. “No. In an actual printed newspaper.”

“Wow.” Her eyes widen. “So she’s super old.”

“Something like that.” I can’t with her right now. I glance back to the screen and the static image of Riggs. “Why are you showing me this . . . oh.” I draw the sound out as it hits me. “You think we should have Riggs do an advice column. Interact with fans like that.”

“Exactly. If he’s getting this much attention with one post, could you imagine how people would react if they knew that they could submit a question and possibly get the chance to have Riggs answer it for them?”

I stare at her, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I contemplate her concept. “It could work. He definitely has the star power and charm to pull it off.” I pause, my mind running with the idea. “I definitely think we can use this to our advantage.”

“Perhaps we can request he be shirtless.” She winks and then says, “What? You know that would only help the video to go viral.”

She’s right but . . . how unprofessional is that to ask him to do that?

“We need to find a way to tie it to Moretti,” I say.

“Exactly. And we do that by having him give his advice while he’s shirtless, sweaty from working out or racing, and with say, a Moretti hat or boxer briefs on?”

“We have Moretti boxer briefs?” I ask dumbfounded. Why? Just why?

She laughs. “No, but I’m sure we can have some made up quickly if need be.”

“Of course, we can.” I roll my eyes, hating that I’m picturing him wearing just those. Picturing him and liking what I see.

He’d go for it. He’s arrogant enough that he’ll enjoy the attention, and I’m selfish enough that I want him to do it because I know it’ll work.

Shit. When did I go from hating the guy to wanting to use those good looks that first attracted me to him to my company’s advantage?