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If I Could Make You Do Things By Two Tongues

"You wanted to see me sir?" I stepped one foot into my boss' office, allowing him to see me before stepping in the other foot.

"Yes, come in Spencer." I nodded and moved toward his large wooden desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of it. Derek Andrews, I read his name plate to keep myself busy as he looked at a paper on his desk. After a moment he looked up at me and smiled, standing and walking around and stood in front of me, leaning against the desk. "Now, Spencer, you and I both know you're the greatest writers we have here but lately your works been rather…boring. I just seems like you've lost interest in you work."

"In my own defense sir, you haven't given me the best stories. I mean, how interesting can I make teenage gallstones?" I protested.

"You do have a point there, so that's why I'm giving you the single most interesting story you may ever write." I looked him in the eye and awaited my sentencing. "Do you know who Ashley Davies is Miss. Carlin?" He asked and I nodded.

"Of course, rock artist, began her career with a garage band, left it once her father passed and took over the family business as rock legend."

"So your familiar with, good."

"Excuse me sir, I'm I going to have to interview Davies?" I asked, knowing how he could drag things out.

"Sort of." He reasoned.

"Sort of?"

"I'm looking for you to do an… exposé on her. I want to know what makes that crazy mind of hers tick. I want you to find out everything there is to know about Ashley Davies."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, it seems as if your asking me to…date her?" I asked him, question surrounding my voice.

"Just put it this way, I'm asking you to do what ever it takes to get your story. Whether that's bugging her dressing room, or kidnapping her sister, I want this in my magazine and I want it by the release of her next album."

"But-"

"No buts, its either you do this, or I demote you back down to horoscopes." He stood up straight and walked back around his desk, taking a seat at his cushiony chair. "That should be all." He said and I stood, taking a deep breath.

"You'll have your story sir." I assured him before leaving his office and making my way down to my own office, one I shared with one of my closest friends, Aiden Dennison, he wrote cooking articles.

"So…did he promote you? Rave about what an amazing journalist you are? Give you the secret to life?" Aiden teased with a smile.

"No, actually he set me up on a date."