Josh Franceschi is twenty and he doesn't know what to do with his life.
Which probably has something to do with the fact that he spends most of his time in the office of his school newspaper, avoiding thinking about it. And that's what he's doing right now. Being in the office of his school newspaper and working.
He's slumped on a couch, laptop perched and his fingers clicking away at his keyboard. He makes a face, deletes a paragraph, then rewrites it.
The door slams open rather loudly, startling Josh from his focused typing.
“Josh,” Max says excitedly (Max is the newspaper's editor), “You will notbelieve who we got an interview with.”
Josh looks at him, reaching to his phone to pause his music.
“Who?” he asks, a bit irritated at the interruption.
“Daniel Flint.”
Josh stares through Max's face.
“Y'know, Daniel Flint,” Max says. “That insanely rich entrepreneur guy that owns those huge residential high-rises in London. He's only like twenty-five.”
“I think I saw him on the news,” Josh says. “That's cool. Who're you going to send off to do it?”
“You,” Max says.
Josh narrows his eyes.
“Me?” he asks. “Why, exactly?”
“Because you won't talk his head off like I would,” Max says, “and you've got the most experience with interviews out of the rest of you. So you're going to London tomorrow to meet him and spend the afternoon with him at his house and you're probably going to want to dress up because he'll probably wear a suit.” He goes over to his desk and rifles through a stack of paperwork. “Plus, I think he's your type.”
“Fuck off,” Josh says. He shuts his laptop. “Just give me the times and shit.”
“Sassy,” Max remarks. “I have all his info here. Which means you'll have to get off your arse to come get it.”
“I hate you sometimes,” Josh sighs. He pulls himself up out of the couch (out because the couch is so old it's sunk in on itself) and goes over to Max, taking the stack of paper. Business paper with a gold embossed company logo and letterhead at the top. Yeah, Josh is gonna need a suit.
X
Josh takes the train into the city. He's carrying a black messenger bag to keep his things in instead of a briefcase because, well, firstly he doesn't have a briefcase, and secondly he doesn't see himself as the briefcase type. He already feels overdressed in his suit and tie. He'd gotten them for a wedding about six months ago and he'd been fairly convinced he'd never need them again. Today Josh is glad he never got rid of them.
