Chris the MAGA guy

Monday morning hums with newsroom chaos — the clatter of keyboards, the smell of burnt coffee, and the steady shuffle of reporters chasing deadlines. You’re back in your cubicle, still half-dreaming of bourbon and laughter when Mike leans over the partition, coffee in hand and an eyebrow already raised.

“So,” he says, “how’s the experiment going? Heard you’ve got a new subject — Mr. Self-Made Millionaire?”

You groan softly. “Chris. He’s… something. All his messages are about his company, his investments, his car. I don’t even think he knows what my name is.”

Mike chuckles, settling into the chair beside your desk. “Classic. You’re in uncharted territory now — the world of guys who think humility is a tax bracket.”

You grin despite yourself. “I’m serious, though. It’s going to be hard. He’s everything I’m not. Conservative, money-obsessed, probably thinks art is a scam.”

“That’s exactly why he’s gold for this series,” Mike says. “Your job isn’t to like him. It’s to understand him. Guys like that… they run on status. So, you play to it. Ask him about what drives him, what keeps him up at night. Make him feel like you’re genuinely interested.”

You frown. “Even if I’m not?”

He shrugs. “Especially if you’re not. The best journalists know how to disappear into the story. If you can make a guy like Chris open up, you’re not just writing an article — you’re mapping an ecosystem.”

You nod, taking notes in your small reporter’s pad. “So basically, charm him.”

Mike grins. “Charm him, study him, and don’t let him talk you into buying crypto.”

You laugh, tension breaking for a moment.

Then Mike’s tone softens a little. “Just… be careful, okay? Guys like that sometimes confuse attention with consent. Keep your boundaries clear.”

You meet his gaze and nod. “I will.”

As he walks away, you glance at your phone — another message from Chris already lighting up the screen, a reminder that this assignment isn’t just journalism. It’s performance.

You’re deep in your notes, halfway through typing a line about dating trends, when your phone buzzes.

CHRIS: Morning, beautiful. You free this week? I know a place you’ll love — best steak in KC. Dress nice.

You blink at the message, a little amused by its certainty. Not would you like to go out, but you will.

You catch yourself smiling, though you’re not sure if it’s because of him or because he’s exactly what you expected — confident, direct, and maybe a little too used to getting his way.

Across the newsroom, Mike is juggling phone calls and deadlines. Ophelia, on the other hand, catches the look on your face instantly. “That’s him, isn’t it?” she asks, leaning over the divider.

You nod. “The businessman. Chris.”

She grins. “Lemme guess. Cocky?”

“Bold,” you say diplomatically. “He wants to take me to dinner. Told me to ‘dress nice.’”

Ophelia chuckles. “Translation: he wants to impress you. Men like that treat dates like sales meetings — they close deals with charm and confidence.”

You tilt your head. “So I should act impressed?”

She waves her hand. “Act interested. Let him talk about himself — he’ll think you’re fascinating.”

You jot that down in the margin of your notebook, a reminder disguised as a joke.

Your phone buzzes again.

CHRIS: Wednesday night. 7pm. I’ll pick you up. Deal?

You type back quickly, keeping it light.

YOU: Sure. Looking forward to it.

The reply comes almost instantly.

CHRIS: Knew you’d say yes. You’ve got good taste.

You laugh softly under your breath.

“Confidence is his middle name,” Ophelia says, catching the sound.

“Confidence,” you echo, slipping your phone face-down on the desk, “and probably leather seats.”

Ophelia humms to her self. "A hot charming guy like that, you better bring condoms, rookie. Lord knows he wont have any"

You glance away, turning red. “There is no chance that will be necessary, chief"

She smirks. “Just remember, you’re not on a date — you’re undercover.”

You smile to yourself, but as you turn back to your dark laptop screen, your reflection gives you away — a flicker of anticipation you can’t quite hide.