Sex Says(14)
3,456,798 views
My jaw dropped to the floor. “This video has over three million views? When was this posted?”
“Apparently, he just posted it last night.”
“It hasn’t even been live for twenty-four hours, and it already has over three million views?”
It was safe to say calm was a memory. Joe covered his ears again, and Miranda grimaced.
“This isn’t bad news, Lola,” Joe said, and I glared at him. “It isn’t,” he repeated. “This guy’s video just brought a national spotlight to your column.”
“By basically telling the world he thinks I’m an idiot!”
“I know this doesn’t feel good, but I’m telling you, Lola, this is actually good. There are interviewers, newspapers, TV stations…” He started to explain, but I couldn’t listen to his words. I was too fired up.
“What’s this guy’s name?” I cut him off midsentence.
“Reed Luca,” Miranda chimed in.
I stomped toward the door, and Joe called to me, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find this asshole.”
“Lola! I don’t think—”
Those were the last words I heard before the door to the conference room slammed shut behind me. I was a woman on a mission, heading straight for the elevator, and then to the front stairs, and then outside to unlock Daisy.
I hopped on my bike and pedaled as fast as I could until I realized I was actually heading in an unknown direction and I had absolutely no strategy when it came to finding the know-it-all, asshole vlogger.
Shit. Sometimes, I was too impulsive for my own, rational good.
My phone pinged with a text notification, and I pulled it out of my pocket to read a text from Joe.
The Devil: For the love of God, do not kill him.
Me: What’s his phone number? Email address?
The Devil: I don’t know.
Me: Joe… I know you well enough to know you probably have this guy’s home address by now. And if you don’t give me something, I will stalk this bastard on every form of social media until I find him.
The Devil: Lola, you need to remember that you are the face of a column for the San Francisco Times. And anything you do will reflect back onto the paper.
Me: I promise I won’t kill him.
Joe texted me the asshole’s email address a minute later. And fifteen minutes after that, I was in my apartment and sitting in front of my laptop ready to give this guy a piece of my mind.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Subject: Hello, Asshole
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU
You are an asshole. Name the time and place and I will meet you there and I will kick your ass.
I paused after that last sentence.
Jesus. I sound like a middle school boy ready to brawl outside the schoolyard.
I had to take a different approach to this email. I mean, for one, telling this guy I wanted to kick his ass was a bit ridiculous. And two, the fact that I would be riding to that fictional fight on my bicycle that had pink wheels and a basket didn’t scream intimidation. And three, I actually wanted to meet this guy. I wanted to speak to him face-to-face, where he couldn’t hide behind a goddamn camera.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
I had to be professional about this. As much as I wanted to tell this guy to choke on his own penis, I had to take the high road. And then, when I got to chat with him in person, I could tell him off with that whole penis-choking scenario.
Good fucking idea, Lola.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Subject: I saw your video…
Hello Reed,
I hope you are having a pleasant day. I saw your YouTube video directed at my column, and I would love to discuss your opinions further.
Would you be willing to meet up sometime this week?
Sincerely,
Lola Sexton
So much careful control in one little email.
I would love to discuss your opinions further.
On the surface, it was benign. But underneath all of that, I sensed something else—a bomb waiting to explode. There was so much subtle power packed in her seemingly simple words, and I wasn’t even sure how I could tell. Normally, I needed a face-to-face encounter to read a person’s intentions, but something about what I knew about Lola from her column and the careful way she’d arranged her words when emailing me spoke to violence I wasn’t sure I’d ever witnessed.
Limb amputation, genital mutilation, and a healthy hock in order to leave a loogie behind on the tattered body.
Would meeting up with the woman behind the words lead to anything other than some kind of police involvement? Though, really, I kind of miss them…
No, no. I was supposed to be reformed.
But even the converted could find themselves in trouble when they least expected it. An impulsive video on YouTube that led to millions of views was proof of that. My inbox was now cluttered with interview requests from various media sources, as well as hate mail from angered Sex Says fans who didn’t appreciate my candid view regarding their favorite dating and relationship column.