In a series of epic failures, getting Jordan to agree to the conditions I had set forth was like a small ray of sunshine. Emphasis on the word 'small'.
After returning to Jordan's office, the first thing he did was call the security. He ordered them to have the front of the office cleared out. Now that the Spectator had aired Jordan's interview on their website, I didn't have to worry about the swarm of buzzing journalists outside the building. I was in the clear with the Spectator after I got them Jordan's first statement.
"Is this really necessary though?" I asked with a pen in my hand. "Do I really have to sign a contract? I mean, isn't my word enough for you?"
The contract was right in front of me on the table and Jordan was hovering over my shoulder.
"No. I can't have you running away after you're done with that stupid magazine of yours--"
