Post Malone Interview Novels & Stories

He puts his phone on the table for everyone to see Malcolm. "How's everyone? How are you, mate?" Malcolm asked me. As soon as he saw me, he grinned. "I'm good, Malc. How are you doing?" I raised my right hand for a cheers as I held a beer glass. Malcom is a farmer in Australia. He owns a big dairy and meat farm and is very successful in his business ventures. The boys came closer to see Malcolm on the screen. Xavion grabbed his phone and showed it to everyone. The rest of the boys greeted Malcolm until someone called, trying to join the conversation.

Kyle's black eye glares at him with a snarl, letting us all know he is still upset about their fight last night to get him here. "How long have you been here in New York, Malcome?" Ben asks, running the palm of his hand over his slick hair. He looks as though he should have a cigar hanging from his lips, as he shifts his weight to one side, his tank top tucked into his slacks in true Italian fashion. "Longer than you mutts." His voice is laced with irritation, but not threat. Malcome makes his way towards the gate of the cell slowly, letting a knowing grin spread across his face.

“Before I became Jeremy Davenport. Elle’s brother. Before all of this, I did things that I am not proud of. Things I never ever want to talk about again” “Princess, if this is hard for you, you don’t have to talk about it until you are ready,” Malone said again, but he shook his head. “I used to do some bad things that I am not proud of,” Jeremy added, because he felt like he needed to make it clear to Malone that he wasn’t proud of it. He was desperate to make him see it. “I used to be a prostitute.” Malone’s body went still, and his eyes widened as a gasp left his mouth before he could stop it. His lips parted to say something, but words failed him. The shock was greater than he expected.

As Conner headed toward the booth, the other guy slipped away to return to his post. Malomond was a big man, several inches taller than Conner, with a broad, linebacker’s body that had turned more to fat since his dismissal from the force. An already round face had been further bloated by too much drinking, and a thick black goatee covered his chin in a failed attempt to mask the roundness. Malomond and Conner had never worked together, but had crossed paths numerous times over their years on the force. Conner held a grudging respect for Malomond’s abilities as a detective, but he had never liked the man, a feeling he knew to be mutual, and he was not surprised when Malomond had turned out t

I complain, not wanting to ruin her outfit or make her smell as bad as I do right now. “I couldn’t care less,” she answers triumphantly, kissing me anyway. Lights pop in front of my eyes. The press are taking pictures, and this is sure to be front page news in the morning. “Mr. Maloney, what are your plans now?” asks one final reporter. “Well, I’m going to take a hot shower, and then I’m taking my girl home.” Reporters clamor with questions, but I’m already guiding Harper away from the field so we can do exactly that. There will be a lot of excitement and activity during the two-week break, and I’m going to have to be on for all of it.

Mona didn't mind this, so she let her go. Mona scowled slightly, took the phone, and glanced at it. The protagonist of the interview video is Andrea.

I should have listened. “I hadn’t seen them in fifteen years, of course. So I had to do a bit of research. Watched all the interviews I could watch. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Malachi’s face remained calm and stoic. His eyes never twitched no matter what he was asked. That night, however, I saw something I had never seen in any of them before…” Goosebumps swell on the surface of my skin as he leans in further, close enough to brush my earlobe with the tip of his nose.

I asked, stealing his coffee, because he makes terrible coffee but I like stealing it. "I don't do interviews," he said, as if that was a law of physics, like gravity. "Last time I did an interview, I was 18, they asked me what my hobby was, I said 'making money,' they printed 'Julian Sterling says poor people are lazy.' I never did one again."

He kept checking himself in the full-length mirror, completely baffling his assistant. "Don Falcone, is something...?" "Book a table for two at the best Italian spot in the city," Declan commanded while spritzing on cologne. "I want the best ocean view." Meanwhile, in the interview waiting area, I stared at the clock on the wall, my palms sweating. The other candidates were whispering among themselves. "I heard the lead interviewer was changed to Don Falcone himself!" "Oh god, he's notoriously strict! It's over, I need to review the brand history again."

But Marlene looked at me one night and said, “Let’s take back the narrative. One interview. Then we’re done talking about the past.” So we went. The studio had bright lights and fake smiles, but the host, Jada Monroe, was actually decent. Sharp, but kind. She started easy: how we met (Marlene laughed about stalking me in the club that first night), favorite dates (Catalina got a collective “aww” from the audience). Then the heavy stuff. Jada leaned in. “You two have been through unimaginable loss and public scrutiny. How do you protect your relationship in all that?”