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My Best Friend's Brother

By:Amy Brent

My Best Friend's Brother
Amy Brent

 Chapter 1


"Good afternoon, Dallas. Today, we have a very special guest here with  us. Mason Baker, branded in the media as the second-coming of Steve  Jobs, will be here with us today sharing his story, his success, and his  secrets. Stick around because it's going to be a doozy."

"Sounds good to me," my makeup artist said.

"You think so, Ang? I wasn't sure if I should use his media persona in the opening or not," I said.

"It's what all the newspapers and magazines are saying about him. Can  you believe his success? I think he made a deal with the devil," she  said and gave me a look.

"Have you seen his looks? I think he definitely made a deal with the  devil." I tried to hide the smirk playing at the edge of my mouth.  Anyone with a pulse knew how fucking hot Mason was. Hell, he knew it  too.

Angie and I giggled while she put on my makeup. In the three years I'd  hosted my talk show in Dallas, she was the only veteran still here.  ‘Does This Affect Dallas?' was a show premise I had rolling around in  the back of my mind for years before I finally pitched it to someone.  All the talk shows nowadays were glorified gossip tables. I wanted  something that would inform as well as entertain, a show that would dive  into things that affected our beautiful city, breaking them down in  entertaining ways to educate as well as distract.

And Mason Baker was just that.

"I can't get over his dimples. I wanna poke my fingers in them," Angie said.

"I could swim in those beautiful peridot eyes all day," I said.

"And that thick, dark hair of his? Kill me in the face, please. I'd pay so much money to run my fingers through it."

"His hair? I'd give anything to run my hands up those meaty arms of his.  Did you see that picture of him in the media last week? Jogging around  like he didn't know the entire world was watching him?"

"Did you see the fucking video?" Angie asked. "The guy needs a damn jock strap."

"There's a video? Let me see."

Angie put down the makeup and pulled her phone from her pocket. I  watched the video and practically salivated, watching that cock swinging  between his legs. The man was doing this on purpose. He had to be. No  one made a hundred and fifty-seven million dollars in revenue their  first year in business and didn't understand he was being watched.

Then again, he wasn't only known for his quickly-rising technology company.

"No wonder he's a playboy," I said, smirking. "That swinging cock could satisfy an entire block."

"Then come back around for dessert," Angie said, mumbling.

Out of all the interviews I'd done, I'd never been nervous. I had scored  daily interviews with scandalous senators and had video interviews with  some of the hottest names in Hollywood so they could talk about their  charities. Anything that could educate Dallas and get them off their  asses to help the world is what I focused on.

And Mason Baker's product was no different.

His idea started with a social media campaign and the premise was  simple, a device you could adhere to any surface to keep track of  something. It came with an application you could put on your phone,  tablet, or computer, and from there you could track up to thirty  different devices. Thirty. You could stick it on the inside of your  phone. You could wrap it around the keyring of your keys. It was  pliable, bendable, waterproof, fireproof, and you couldn't ruin it if  you stepped on it.

The original campaign was set to raise two hundred thousand dollars, and  it ended up raising almost four million fucking dollars.

All from donations.

The applications of this item were endless. You could put it on your car  and track your car. You could put it on your children's electronic toys  and track where they were. Hell, you could put it on your fucking kid  and track where they were.

The moment the product launched, it flew off the shelves, and it was  Baker's customer service setup that took the prize for that one.  Complaints came flying in immediately from people who used it, and they  used those complaints to tweak the product further. An updated product  hit the shelves while those who complained about problems got a free  upgraded replacement, and the product went viral.

Eight months into their official launch, they were trying to figure out  how to ship overseas, and from there the rest is history. One hundred  and fifty-seven million in flat-out revenue for their first year, and  they'd only begun to scratch the surface.

It was absolutely incredible, and it was something that most definitely affected Dallas.         



But those piercing green eyes and that muscular body. It was almost  disarming how sexy this man was. Angie was finishing up my makeup while  everyone started bustling around me, and that's when I heard someone say  it in the distance.

I heard them whisper that Mason Baker was here.

I knew I was going to nail this interview. I always did. But never had I  found anyone I'd interviewed this hot. I mean, I could feel my pussy  heating up for crying out loud. That was beyond unprofessional, and it  wasn't a road I was willing to travel down again, not after I'd caught  my ex-boyfriend making out with who was now my ex-host.

It really wasn't a big deal. I'd gotten the bitch fired within five  minutes of figuring it out. Then, I took to kindly blasting them on  social media. I made it apparent that the show does not tolerate  unprofessional behavior of any kind, especially when it hurts multiple  people involved. I told my fans that I'd interviewed senators and mayors  and governors caught in scandals where they'd cheated on their spouses,  and I took those accusations seriously. I used the moment as a platform  to take a stand against men who manipulated, abused, cheated, and  otherwise dealt anything else less than full respect to women they  claimed to love.

Especially after what I'd endured in high school.


"Yeah, Ang?"

"You've got about ten minutes. You okay?" she asked.

I double-checked my makeup in the mirror before I gave her a confident  smile. I stood from my chair and embraced her, pulling her close to me.  She was the closest thing I had to a friend in this town, and I would  always respect her and love her for allowing me to talk to her before  every single show I did.

"You know I appreciate you, right?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I know," she said. "I just have to remember not to make out with your boyfriends. I quite like my job."

We giggled one last time before I shook my head at her. I walked out of  the room and down the hallway, smoothing out my outfit one last time. I  got to the entrance of the stage as they were running the intro to the  show, and then it was time for me to take my place on stage.

I walked up to the middle of the stage as the crowd cheered. Cameras  panned around me, and I waved to the audience. Then, I made eyes with  Camera 3 as it panned around me. I waved to my at-home audience and blew  them a kiss like I did every show. I drew in a deep breath and started  the opening I'd rehearsed in the makeup room.

"Good afternoon, Dallas. How's everybody doing?"

The crowd of people erupted into cheers as I clapped for joy.

"Today, we have a very special guest here with us. Mason Baker, branded  in the media as the second-coming of Steve Jobs himself, will be here  with us today sharing his story, his success, and his secrets. Stick  around because it's going to be a doozy."

I walked back to my chair and took a sip of water while the credits for  our sponsors rolled, and it gave me just enough time to fluff my hair  before the camera was back on me.

"I could go on and on about the man standing backstage, but something  tells me he wants to do that himself," I said, winking. "Without further  delay, welcome into your homes Mason Baker."

I stood from my chair as I watched him come out from behind the screen.  He was even taller in person, standing at a looming six-foot-four. His  beaming white smile contrasted with his tan skin wonderfully, making his  peridot eyes sparkle more than ever. His thick, luscious mane of dark  hair was parted to one side, combed back expertly as his gray suit  tailored itself to every curve and dip of his strong, throbbing muscles.  He shook my hand, his palm dwarfing me, and for a second, I could've  sworn he winked at me.

"Mr. Baker, thank you for your time. I'm so glad you could be with us," I said as I sat down.

"It's a pleasure. Anything I can do to educate the city of Dallas is all right by me," he said.

The crowd whooped and hollered at his statement while I simply shook my head.

"So, tell us a bit about this product. How in the world did you come up with a concept like this?" I asked.

"To be honest, I can never find my wallet. Ever. And I got sick and  tired of hunting it down at the last minute only for it to make me late.  I tried going online and finding something that could work, but  everything on the market was subpar."