Page 7 of GDL

"There's a cool retro diner a few miles from here," he says. "Does that work for you?"

"It does. You seem to be into retro at the moment," I say, thinking back to the location of yesterday's shoot. Unfortunately, his retro short shorts from today's shoot have been replaced by black track pants.

"Retro is in. We'll run with it for a while before moving on to something else."

"When will you release the content you're working on now?"

"Probably after the holidays. Might go with anew year, old vibestheme."

"You're very organized."

"That's because I take this seriously. You may think it's silly?—"

He stops talking when I latch onto his arm. "I don't think it's silly."

His eyes narrow. "You don't?"

"No. I've scoured social media extensively these past few months, and believe me, there is some absolutely mind-numbingly stupid shit out there. What you do is a cut above. Several cuts above. Unlike my own TikTok," I concede with a laugh.

His lips stretch into a sly grin. "Oh, I don't know about that. Never underestimate the value of a good thirst trap."

As he's talking, I realize I'm still holding on to him. His skin is so soft, so warm, and I can't think of a good reason to let him go.

Uh, hi. It's me, Professionalism. Debbie from HR just called and asked me to give you a kick up the backside and to remind you—again—that you're old enough to be his father.

Yep, that'll do it. I release my grip, and we start walking again.

After a few moments, he says, "It's not only my livelihood anymore, either. I have a team I support, too."

"That's a lot of responsibility," I say, thinking back to my peak era when I had an agent, a PR firm, lawyers, the whole shebang. They're all gone. Grayson's the only one who's stuck around.

We reach an oversized black SUV. Kynan lifts the key fob, and the car beeps twice. He opens the back door then almost immediately slams it shut. "Uh, we can't take my car."

"Why not?"

His eyes dart left to right. "It's broken."

"Broken?"

"Yeah. I just remembered. It conked out on me this morning right as I pulled up."

I run my eyes over the late-model Cadillac Escalade. Cars like this don't justconk out.

Before I can say anything else, Kynan has taken out his phone. "I'll order us a ride. I have a partnership with Ridrrr. I can take some photos on the way over to the diner."

Something's not adding up here. "If you're worried about your car being messy, I have two grown sons, so a bit of clutter doesn't bother me," I offer with a smile, wondering if that might be the reason he doesn't want me in his car.

He's engrossed in his phone, ordering us a lift, so he doesn't say anything. When he does, it's to confirm we'll be picked up in two minutes.

Hmm. It's odd, but I decide not to push it. We're still in the early stages of getting to know each other. I know from experience how difficult it can be to earn an interviewee's trust. If there's something in his car he doesn't want me to see, I can drop it. It probably doesn't matter anyway.

Our ride arrives. Kynan snaps a few photos of him in front of it before sliding into the back seat next to me. He waves his phone in the air as we take off. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. What would you like?"

He swallows. "Let's keep it simple. A selfie?"

"Sure."

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