Page 11 of The Producer: Aaron

She turns to me and notices my bewildered expression. Her face softens into a smile, the one you have in front of a puppy who can’t juggle in the bowl of kibble.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No,” I admit laughing.

“They are bloggers who do book reviews. It’s a vast community, and every day there is some new book everyone is talking about. You start by buying the book, find out that you like it, and add all the ones they suggest to you. For an author, getting to these bloggers means stepping from anonymity to the bestseller lists, whether it’s theNew York Times, theWall Street Journal, orUSA Today. The power of word of mouth on that social network is enormous, so much so that it changes your life.”

She speaks of it with such conviction and competence that I stop, enchanted looking at her. For one of my age, TikTok is just a social of stupid challenges that send you to the emergency room. Still, it is evident that the target consumer, the one for whom this social network was invented, uses it entirely differently. Today I thought my father was old because he never understood the potential of streaming. I realize that Dakota believes the same thing about me. I don’t understand the potential of a social network that substantially impacts the purchasing habits of my company’s target audience: teenagers or kids barely older.

“Would you like to explain to me, one day of these, how it works? I’m interested in that.”

She shrugs and nods. “Okay, but it’s not difficult. Do you already have an account?”

I raise an eyebrow to ask her if it is a serious question.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re old. If you give me your phone, I’ll set up an account so you don’t mess it up.”

“I’m thirty-six. I’m not so old that I need your help with my cell phone,” I protest.

It is her turn to look at me with the expression that asks if I am serious and it makes me smile.

“Are you going to stop me, or do we go on all evening putting books in the cart?” she finally asks.

I look at her, perplexed. “Are you done?”

“I was done with the first box set of books I put in the cart, but I wanted to see when you would flip out and stop me. Apparently, I underestimated your stamina and the depth of your wallet,” she admits with a smug smile.

“You mean I’m pushing this cart for nothing?”

“I just wanted the special edition of this series. The rest is extra,” she admits. “By the way, you should option this fantasy series for a movie or a TV show. It’s the one everyone is talking about right now,” she adds.

“Are you stealing my job?” A smile appears on my lips.

“No, but if you don’t know which books teenagers read, how do you make a successful TV show?”

She’s right. How can I think about maintaining and growing my audience if I don’t know what they like at their age?

“Okay,Miss I-know-everything, I’ll take a look, but now let’s go to the checkout. This cart is getting heavy to push.”

She looks at me with wide eyes.

“Do you really want to buy me all these books? I just wanted to piss you off for firing Caleb.”

“Who?”

“The pool guy.” She glances at me in disappointment at not knowing the name of my employees.

Just hearing his name, I feel anger boiling inside. “I don’t wantto go through all the shelves in reverse to put the books back in place, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Okay, boss.” She smiles smugly as she looks at the loot in the cart.

“I’d tell you not to call me that, but technically, I’m your boss,” I reason out loud.

She winks at me, turns around, and strides toward the till.

I watch her as she walks away, and I find myself disoriented in front of one of the most surreal evenings of my life. Not so much because of the frankness of a young woman who treats me as a person and not a mythological entity to be venerated or feared, but because, for the first time in my life, I spent an evening as an average person, not like Aaron Steel,The Butcher.

“Cut!” the director shouts, and I can barely put my feet on the mattress that one of the assistants places beneath me fast enough to help me with the security ropes.

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