CHAPTER 6 #2
Jeremy blinked, flicking through each page, seeing subheadings such as short-term outcomes and primary audience .
Under the latter, Sam had written Shithead ex-boyfriend .
‘It was an interesting challenge, actually,’ he continued.
‘Activism and advocacy are all about making people care about something, and usually there’s an element of preaching to the choir – you’re rarely trying to change someone’s mind.
This whole campaign is hyper-focused on influencing just one person’s perspective.
It’s crazy. Or at least that’s what I thought …
It gets more complicated once we get mid-campaign …
’ Sam trailed off, looking anxiously at Jeremy.
‘Sorry, I just realised this is mildly psychopathic.’
Shaking his head, Jeremy clasped the folder to his chest. ‘Oh no, you got that backwards: I’m the psychopath; you’ve just … very kindly … enabled me. Thank you, this is really nice of you.’
‘Okay, good. It suddenly occurred to me that handing someone a folder in which you’ve organised their life like it’s your job is not normal.’
‘No, it’s really nice of you,’ said Jeremy again, not knowing what else to say. ‘I’m excited to read it and find out how I can teach my ex-boyfriend to stop polluting.’
‘I hope I’m not crossing a line,’ said Sam, still looking anxious.
‘No, it’s genuinely one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me, especially considering it’s so … out of the blue.’ Jeremy finally made eye contact with Sam.
Sam smiled again, looking relieved. ‘Great. Well, uh, I was wondering if you would like to grab a drink some time and go through the finer points … maybe the first point?’
‘Yeah, yeah, for sure,’ said Jeremy, who had gone back to flipping through the folder. ‘I’d appreciate more professional help … like, this section here that’s all about mid-term expectations … I’m assuming that’s not a pregnancy thing.’
Sam beamed. ‘Okay, wow, that would be really great.’
‘You must really love campaigns,’ said Jeremy looking up and smiling back. ‘Do you want to get that drink now? I’m feeling re-inspired.’
‘Oh,’ said Sam. ‘Yeah, I guess I could do that.’
‘If you want to work out or whatever, that’s totally fine,’ said Jeremy.
‘No, no, that’s fine,’ said Sam, but he looked a little confused. ‘I could suggest somewhere we could go.’
‘Yeah, anywhere, I’m easy,’ said Jeremy, already heading to the elevator.
Out of the gym, they walked along the busy main street.
It occurred to Jeremy he’d never seen Sam operating in the real world.
He tended himself to barrel through crowds, relying on his long legs and bony elbows to get him through, but Sam managed to step through it all politely, letting people pass him, stepping back to economically clear the way of a mobility scooter, even steering Jeremy with a hand lightly touching the small of his back out of the path of a bike.
‘That place has really cheap pints,’ pointed out Jeremy. ‘They taste like rust and despair, but they’re basically RSL prices.’
‘Hmm, a good sell but maybe another time,’ said Sam, guiding them both forwards.
‘Or this place is decent too,’ said Jeremy, gesturing to another perfectly serviceable pub that glimmered in the distance and then receded like a dream.
‘No: I have a place in mind just around the corner,’ said Sam firmly, once again guiding Jeremy with a steady hand against his waist. He led him to a pretty red door that was unmarked and ushered him inside.
It took a moment for Jeremy’s eyes to adjust, but once they did, he saw they were in a dimly lit wine bar with lots of small tables scattered around, illuminated mostly by small candles, a handful of people sitting at them.
‘Wow, this would be a good first-date place,’ said Jeremy, and, after a moment, Sam laughed. ‘Nice and shadowy to help us plot revenge too,’ Jeremy added.
‘Good point,’ said Sam, then he disappeared to the bar for a moment and returned with some water.
Jeremy was starting to understand this was a naturally thoughtful man – the opposite of himself.
Sam was definitely a rare find – he was going to make some girl, probably with soft brown eyes and long hair and a PhD in small frogs, extremely happy.
They ordered wine, Jeremy going for the cheapest option and Sam picking the same thing.
‘Right,’ Sam said once they’d got their drinks, ‘as we discussed before, your new campaign is all about throwing up the facade to Miles that your life is specifically and categorically good, such that he will be envious of how wonderful you are.’
‘And making him feel like he made a big mistake in dumping me,’ added Jeremy.
‘So, I’ve identified some key campaign components for us to focus on, starting with point one: a boyfriend.’
‘Ah, a Can’t Buy Me Love situation.’ Jeremy nodded sagely. ‘I have been reduced to this.’
‘Well, sorta – I doubt we’ll need to pay for a boyfriend. You’re handsome, have an interesting job and you’re very funny, so we’ll definitely be able to find you a real person to date,’ said Sam.
‘Oh,’ replied Jeremy, a little disappointed. ‘Yeah, I suppose I could date someone. I refuse to do couple outfits though.’
‘Ideally, we want someone who thinks you’re amazing, because if other people think you’re amazing, then Miles will assume there’s a reason for it.’
‘Hmm, that might be hard to find,’ Jeremy said, mock frowning. Sam gave a short laugh and then moved on, although he looked a little sad, probably due to pity for Jeremy and his pathetic life.
‘As you’ll see here, the primary point of the boyfriend is for him to be so exceptional that people automatically assume you are equally, if not more, amazing.
So, we’re not just looking for anyone – we’re looking for someone Miles would want to date himself, would be impressed by.
This is where you come in. What is Miles impressed by? ’
‘Being muscular,’ Jeremy said immediately. ‘Miles says all this stuff about respecting what’s inside and being hot for people’s intellects, but one guy he cheated on me with was a literal bodybuilder.’
Sam wrote big muscles in the campaign folder.
Jeremy continued. ‘He also thinks he’s really smart, so he’s one of those people who thinks he should only be friends with other smart people, but it’s actually all about status and prestige. So, what I’m saying is that my boyfriend has to have a PhD.’
Sam laughed and wrote it down too.
‘ But Miles secretly doesn’t understand how science works. I once caught him reading the Wikipedia entry for “gravity”. So if my boyfriend was some kind of scientist or medical-type person – or a super fancy mathematician! – that would intimidate him.’
‘Wow, okay. Anything else we need to add to this swole maths prodigy?’ asked Sam.
‘Chess? Miles’s dad was a chess champion or something, but Miles kinda sucks at it.’
‘Chess is boring,’ said Sam. ‘The real skill is in Hungry Hungry Hippos.’
‘All right, genius, so how am I going to find this paragon of intellect and body?’ asked Jeremy. ‘If men like this were easy to come by, I’d probably be married and living with one in a castle in Scotland.’
Sam beamed. ‘We’ll cheat. We’ll sign you up to every dating app, every speed-dating event, every matchmaking service – multiple times. Any single man in this city will have no choice but to be spammed with your face.’
‘Sounds horrific, but I love it,’ said Jeremy. ‘Though I’m not looking forward to dunking my head in the raw sewage of dating apps, let alone multiple times.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll help out,’ reassured Sam. ‘In fact, could we meet up this weekend?’
‘Sure.’ Jeremy drank from his wine, distracted by the flashing of Sam’s phone on the table.
‘Oh.’ Sam picked it up. ‘It’s my boss. I’ll just quickly …
’ He stood and wandered away from the table, so he could hear over the bar’s moody jazz soundtrack.
He came back five minutes later, an unfamiliar frown line creasing his brow.
‘I’m so sorry I have to cut this short,’ he said.
‘My boss just remembered something we need for this huge rally we’re organising later this year, and I said I’d go and send it over. ’
Jeremy looked at his own phone – it was nine thirty, the night having flown by in the conversation and the cosy wine bar. ‘Hope you’re getting overtime.’
Jeremy loved to work, but he was also evangelical about being paid for work, which included not being hassled by bosses out of hours – both of which were a constant battle in media.
Sam laughed, shaking his head, but for the first time since Jeremy met him, he seemed stressed and distracted.
Jeremy raised his eyebrows, his media-worker-exploitation sensor going off. ‘It’s not really okay for bosses to contact you regularly outside work hours.’
‘Yeah, I know, and I’m sure she feels terrible. It’s just that this event is important and we’re all invested in it going well. She’s great, and we get along great … Anyway, I have to run, but I’ll see you on the weekend and we’ll start stage one.’
‘Uh, okay,’ said Jeremy. Sam left the table, gaze already glued to his phone, and Jeremy recognised a feeling of disappointment . He’d been having a good time. He moodily sipped more of his wine, and then suddenly Sam was back in front of him, smiling wryly.
‘Sorry, I got distracted. I need your number so I can contact you again.’ He slid his phone over, and Jeremy punched in his number. Sam grabbed the phone, flashed another lightning-quick smile and said, ‘Now you can never escape,’ and then he ran out into the night.