Page 1 of GDL

1

Sawyer

"Well, here we are," Grayson says as we pull up.

"Here?" I glance out the tinted car window. "This is it?"

"Yep."

I take in the exterior of the retro-inspired house, the scene for today's shoot and my first meeting with one of the members of the hottest internet boy collective in the world, known as BBA. Just one of the many new terms and acronyms I've learned lately.

I step out of the SUV and am immediately hit with a wall of heat. I'd forgotten how hot LA could be in September. I start undoing the buttons of my Tom Ford dress shirt.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Grayson asks, coming over to stand next to me.

"Of course I'm ready." I ditch the tie, tossing it onto the passenger seat before slamming the door shut. "I've been preparing for months."

"I know you have, but…" He bites his lip, hesitates. "But you don't have to do this."

"Yes. I do," I correct him, rolling my sleeve up my forearm. "This is about creating a legacy."

"Mate, you already have a legacy." I scoff, rolling up the other sleeve, but it doesn't deter him. "You're one of Australia's most respected media figures. You hosted the local version of60 Minutes. You've won the Gold Logie, the highest TV accolade three years in a row for chrissakes."

"Yeah, and when did all that happen?" I turn to face my manager and best friend who I've known since he took me on as his first client way back when. "A good fifteen years ago," I answer my own question. "My career is in the doldrums. I haven't had a proper TV gig in years. And don't say what aboutDancing with the?—"

"What aboutDancing with the Stars?" he takes over with a self-satisfied smirk. He's the only person in the world I let get away with giving me shit like this. The annoying thing is he damn well knows it.

I shake my head, the warmth of the sun seeping through the dark fabric of my shirt. "Things may be bad, but I still have a modicum of self-respect. I am not doing that show."

Despite repeated requests and bucketloads of money promised. My comeback isn't about money. Let me rephrase that, it isn'tonlyabout money.

Grayson's eyes meet mine. "I can picture you doing a killer cha-cha."

"I worry about you sometimes."

We make our way along the concrete walkway toward the house.

Grayson is responsible for me skyrocketing through the reporting ranks from local news to the most watched prime-time TV news and current affairs program in Australia. He's been with me for all my highs and lows, like my wife, Elaine, dying when Benji was seven and Finch was only a toddler.

That was devastating, but it only strengthened my resolve to work even harder, make it into the big league, and provide for my boys. They're adults now, out in the world, forging their own paths. Benji's a bestselling romance author, and Finch is climbing the ranks in the world of sports reporting. I couldn't be prouder of them. Hands down, they're my two greatest achievements.

But while they're doing well, I'm in a funk. I've been pushed aside, replaced by a new breed of young, hungry reporters. It doesn't help that there seems to be no appetite for long-form content in a world of ten-second videos and mind-numbing clickbait delivered in increasingly narrow echo chambers.

Until an idea struck me about a year ago. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Rather than bemoan the loss of legacy media, why not meet people where they are and deliver content to them on their platforms?

And since everyone's on social media, what could be better than interviewing one of the hottest social media stars in the world—Kynan Parker-Gillis?

Stumbling upon one of his viral GDL videos, discovering he's part of the BBA, and appreciating his mix of charisma, humor, and good looks sealed the deal. Profiling him is my ticket to making a comeback. I know it is, and my instincts have rarely let me down.

It took months and months of Grayson negotiating with Kynan's management team to secure a two-week window to follow him around, get to know him better, culminating in a sit-down interview we'll shop around to the major networks, hopefully attracting a bidding war.

Dancing with the Starsis on ice. Permanently, if I can make this a success.

I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. I want to show the world that a forty-nine-year-old can still be viable, that I'mtoo young to be put out to pasture, that I'm still passionate about sharing people's stories, even if I am getting a few lines here and there and small patches of silver threading into my hair.

But more than money and accolades and awards, the most important reason I have for pursuing this is I want to make my boys as proud of me as I am of them.

I know they already are, but they were young when I was at my peak in the late noughties, early twenty-tens. What they probably remember most is my absence as I chased stories all over the world and our nightly 7 p.m. calls, which I never missed, no matter what time zone I was in. They never got to experience their old man at the top of his game. I want them to see me there now.

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