Chapter 23: The JournalistThe next day
“Can you please…please…please keep the story about Mason out of the Teller,” I begged Zac, practically on my knees, prepared to provide him with a blowjob, if need be, just so he would listen to me. “I know it’s a good story and the tax payers of Templeton want to read about a kid who trespasses on a famous screenwriter’s island, but…please…please, don’t write it.”
Zac laughed at me. “Are you ready to get on your knees?”
I stood on the opposite side of his desk and attempted to gather my composure. His office at the Teller didn’t look elaborate or modern with its paneled walls and single window that overlooked Mast Street in downtown Templeton. In fact, it was a hole: no charm, not enough light, and a thick smell of dust wafted about the small area
