A shadowy figure in a trench coat,
her collar turned up and her platinum blonde hair tucked under a wide brimmed hat, cautiously walks through a dimly lit alley, the heels of her boots tapping the pavement.
Coming toward her is an unremarkable looking gentleman, calm, mid thirties, normal street clothes, a pen tucked behind his ear. They stop only inches from each other and stand silent. Their breath plumes in the cold autumn air.
The woman looks behind her, then over his shoulder. Confirming they are alone, she removes a small box from her coat pocket and opens it.
“My blue diamond bindi,” she says. “I wore it during the ‘Tragic Kingdom’ tour.”
The diamond catches what small amount of light there is the alley. She shuts the box and hands it to him before withdrawing a yellow envelope from inside her coat.
“And $10,000.” The envelope is placed in his hand. He tucks both packages under his left arm.
“Consider it done. Blake Shelton – Sexiest Man Alive 2017. The issue will hit newsstands this Tuesday.”
“I have one more request.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I also want you to name Gavin Rossdale ‘Least Sexiest Man Alive.’”
“Yeah, we don’t really do that, Gwen.”
—emily duchaine
Flommist Emily Duchaine lives in the Pacific Northwest. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and listen to the Talking Heads. She pretends to be a professional businesswoman most days. Copyright © 2017 Emily Duchaine.
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