Breaking The Bad Boy Myth

Chapter 1: The Pitch that was not so Perfect

I was sitting in my first meeting at Seventeen Magazine, surrounded by vain women and giggly girls. Lord help me, if one more fellow intern used the phrase 'omg' I will lose my mind. A particularly attractive women beside me, with long black hair sleeked into a ponytail and her eyes full of mascara, glanced at me suspiciously. I could practically see her eyes questioning. I wasn't well groomed enough to be gay, and I wasn't old enough to be an investor or someone important. What was I, Kellan Stevenson, doing here again? I tried to figure out why she was here as well, since she'd seemed articulate enough from the conversations I'd been eavesdropping on. She was smart, and unlike every other women in the room, she wasn't blonde. My boss, Marissa Tobias, walking into the room and everyone hushed. She took off her glasses, which probably cost more than my rent, and her brown eyes scanned the room.

"Alright interns," she said. "It's time for you all to make your pitches. Even though only two intern articles will make it into the next edition, you all must submit and complete and an assignment in order to fulfill your intern duties. I suggest you make two pitches, in order to increase your odds. Wherever you all end up, whether it is here or somewhere else, know it is never enough to bring one idea to the table. Always be prepared, be flexible, and be tenacious."

I smirked, because it was actually sage advice for an aspiring journalist. The wisdom of the Seventeen Gods.

"So, I will open the floor to ideas," Marissa said. "Who wants to go first?"

"I would like to start," The woman with the ponytail said. Marisa nodded.

"Alright Kelly," she said. "Thanks for being so eager."

Kelly was her name, and her voice was oddly delightful. Perhaps interning here would be alright.

"I would like to do a column on this summer's urban trends," she said. "Music, clothes, hair, books. We don't have to call it 'urban' fashions, but it'd be nice to see something other than skinny blondes and Kylie Jenner."

"But you're not even black," some blonde intern from the side said. Moronic little girl, I thought as I shook my head.

"I am bi-racial," Kelly corrected. "My father was African American, and my mother was Hispanic. I just look really light skinned. But my race has nothing to do with the need to diversify the summer edition."

"This isn't 'Vibe' sweetheart," Another girl, I'm not sure which one, retorted.

"I like it," I said. "From a marketing perspective it makes sense. If you can appeal to multiple demographics, the more likely you can increase your sales."

Kelly didn't look at me or even react, but just keep her hard and stern face. I was hoping for maybe even a smile, if not some major brownie points. But, no such luck.

"We always try to celebrate diversity," Marisa said, eying the girl who'd made the 'vibe' comment.

"Who's next," Marisa asked.

"I'll go," generic blonde number three called out. "I want to do a special article called, How to Tame a Bad Boy."

All of the girls let out happy sounds, as if a bunch of lemmings were suddenly speaking in one harmonic secret language. Really, this idea excited them? What would be next, how to charm a psychopath or maybe even how to kiss a jackass?

"I mean, we all love a bad boy," she said. "Tattoos, piercings, piercing eyes and a six pack. Then they are so guarded and rough, but deep down, we all believe there is a good guy waiting to get out."

I tried to repress it, but I couldn't help but laugh. It was oddly loud, and every eye glared at me from me. A billion pairs of perfect eyelashes were trying to shoot lasers at me.