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“Hey, what’s going on everybody? From First We Feast, I’m Sean Evans, and you’re watching Hot Ones. It’s the show with hot questions, and even hotter wings. Today we’re joined by Grayson Hawthorne, he’s a billionaire’s grandson, current head of two philanthropic foundations, and according to the internet: a total heartthrob. He’s here today, which leads me to believe we might just be able to see if that assessment is accurate. Grayson, welcome to the show.”
Grayson had no idea why he was doing this. Correction, he knew exactly why he was doing this, but that knowledge didn’t make him any happier. Alisa had been adamant about one of the Hawthorne brothers going on the show to generate some positive publicity after Jameson’s latest stunt, but Grayson hadn’t exactly volunteered for this.
And what, exactly, had that stunt been? Street racing one of their late grandfather’s sports cars at three in the morning.
Like a complete and total moron.
Naturally, Grayson had assumed that Alisa would make his dearest younger brother be the one to make up for the PR nightmare caused by the photos from the late night escapade. But no. Jameson was with Avery in Madrid right now, helping with a local university’s charity organization. Which left Xander, Nash, and Grayson himself.
Nash was a no-go, citing the need to take care of his twin daughters while Libby was busy catering a massive order of cupcakes for a gala. Grayson won’t hold that against him because after all, he too has a soft spot for his nieces. Xander had been initially game for the idea of going on Hot Ones, but after being knocked out this morning by a nasty cold, Grayson became the only brother left standing.
Which left him here: seated at a table across from Sean Evans, with a platter of hot wings and sauces lined up in front of him, dressed in a gray Armani suit, and his blond hair styled to perfection.
“Thank you for having me,” Grayson responded, offering a wolfish grin that he typically saves for interviews like these.
Sean started the interview off and asked, “How are you around spicy food? I know you and your brothers are known to be somewhat of world travelers, so I can only assume your palate is more refined than most.”
With a casual shrug, Grayson nodded. “I’ve been to my fair share of countries that employ more spices than we see here,” he said. “I’d like to think that’s given me a high tolerance for spice, and I’ve grown to like Indian food, which isn’t always mild.”
That much is true. Their grandfather had always been insistent on him and his brothers trying the local cuisine of wherever they traveled, and after a trip to Mumbai, Grayson found himself occasionally craving rogan josh, a type of lamb curry.
“So you’ve got some experience then,” Sean said, smiling. “Let’s see how far those travels take you.”
The cameras cut and the production crew has him move to sit next to Sean so they can get a shot of them clinking their cups together.
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Taking a bite of the first wing, Grayson made sure to keep any of the sauce that had been put on it off of his face. The last thing he needed is a photo of him with hot sauce around his mouth going viral.
Swallowing the bite, Grayson said, “You’re starting me off easy, Sean. It’s not bad, but it hardly has any warmth to it.” The first sauce is a Hot Ones branded “The Classic Hot Sauce: Chili Maple” which is sweet, with just a hint of spice. It’s decent, in Grayson’s opinion.
“So you turned twenty-two years old not that long ago, and as a teenager you were leading The Hawthorne Foundation, a charitable organization founded by your grandfather, and now you find yourself helping heiress Avery Grambs in her endeavors with the Hannah the Same Backward as Forward Foundation. Those are no small tasks for someone as young as you, so is this what you could see yourself doing for the rest of your life? Or is there another avenue you’d like to pursue?” Sean asks.
Grayson has to stop himself from raising an eyebrow at the question. It’s not often he gets hit with one as genuine as that right off the bat. “That’s a great question,” he started. “My grandfather left behind a legacy as a philanthropist. While Avery Grambs may be who he chose to directly carry on his legacy, I believe that my brothers and I were raised to not only continue to shape what he left behind, but to cultivate our own legacies. I may not choose to head these organizations forever, but what I do know is that everything I do will be to make a mark that will outlast myself. When you’re born into a position like the one I have been, you get a unique opportunity to make real change in the world, should you so choose to do so. It would be remiss of me to ignore that, so no matter what I do, I’ll strive to make a positive impact.”
The next hot wing is covered in a sauce called “Curry Verde” from the La Pimenteri brand. “The flavor of this one is good,” Grayson admitted as he swallowed his first bite. He hadn’t eaten much before arriving, knowing he’d be eating his share of wings on the show, so he wasn’t mad that so far the flavors of the sauces weren’t terrible.
“Right? Some Thai Green Curry hot sauce for you. Does it do the name proud?”
Grayson nodded, flashing a grin at the camera. “It does. I might have to snag a bottle of this for my brothers to try.”
“Oh yeah? Get them in on the action? Are they as good as you at handling spice?” Sean asked.
A slight smile crossed Grayson’s features as he spoke. “I’ll let you in on a little Hawthorne brothers’ secret: Jamie is the worst of us when it comes to spice tolerance. He’ll act high and mighty about it, but ultimately he just can’t handle it.”
Sean let out a laugh, raising his eyebrows. “The Daredevil Hawthorne himself is defeated by some spice? Is that why he’s not here today?”
“It might be,” Grayson offered with a shrug that insinuated it was. It absolutely was not why Jameson wasn’t here today, but Grayson wasn’t in the mood to do him any favors.
“It seems he’ll have to come on here to prove this rumor incorrect then, won’t he?” Sean said. Continuing, he asked, “On the subject of your brothers, you all hold seventeen different high school state championships between you. Four of those are ones you earned in swimming, with another two in golf, those last two titles shared with your aforementioned brother Jameson. Are you all just naturally gifted in sports, or is there some sort of secret training you go through as the grandsons of a billionaire?”
Grayson didn’t bother to stop the laugh that escaped him in the form of a sharp exhale. “You could say that,” he mused, his gray eyes glinting. “Every year on our birthdays, our grandfather had us choose a skill to cultivate for an entire year. While we could select anything, more than once we opted for a sport. It’s likely a byproduct of our naturally competitive nature as brothers; when presented with the opportunity to one-up one another in something, we take it. After all, there’s nothing more Hawthorne than winning.”
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“Zesty Lemon Pepper,” Grayson read before taking a bite of the next wing. It definitely had more of a kick than the last one, but still nothing crazy.
“I’m gonna pivot to something that may be lesser known about you, which is your photography skills. You have some of your work on display in the lobby of the Hawthorne Foundation, are a two-time Nikon Photo Contest winner, and a one-time Leica Oskar Barnack Award winner. What got you into photography, and how has your artistic eye shaped who you are today?”
Grayson hummed appreciatively. He’s unable to recall another interview where he was asked so in depth about his work. “It seems you’ve done your homework. I picked up photography when I was seven, and it’s been a constant in my life ever since. It happened to be the skill I chose to cultivate that year, and the art of capturing the perfect shot was something I couldn’t put down. My particular niche is capturing human emotion and connection in its purest form, meaning I aim to show the entire range of what humanity feels—whether that be joy, pain, fear, triumph, exhaustion, anger, relief, all of it. There’s a unique balance of challenge and growth that has driven me to continue to improve my photography skills. As for how it’s shaped me, having the chance to see humanity in all of its forms, both beautiful and ugly, is one that I’ll forever appreciate. I’d like to think it’s made me the man I am today.”
“Do you think people are surprised when they learn you’re a photographer? From the outside, it seems to contrast your image of an untouchable, Hawthorne heir, but you seem to identify with it a lot,” Sean asked.
It wasn’t a secret how Grayson was perceived by the general public. It’s an image carefully crafted, wall after wall, mask after mask. But for him, photography has always been where he’s found himself being the most honest. The camera didn’t lie, after all.
Grayson said as much to Sean. “I believe everyone has a side, or sides, to them that others won’t see or understand. To ignore the possibility of complexity within another person when looking at them is the equivalent of diminishing them to the most obvious parts of themselves. My photography is honest. It isn’t staged, it is art in its rawest form.”
Sean nodded, and they moved on to the next wing. The label on the bottle read, “Chile Lengua De Fuego: Chicho-Ghost,” and Gryson could feel the heat in his mouth. “De Fuego,” he commented, swallowing down the bite. “That’s encouraging.”
Sean laughed. “As hot sauces get hotter, the labels turn into warnings. Clearly they don’t want any liabilities.”
“Clearly,” Grayson agreed. So far everything had been going well, but still he had every intention of making Jameson pay for making him do this.
“Touching a bit on your public image, your current status online is that of a heartthrob, despite your otherwise described ‘icy’ demeanour. Do you take any of this to heart, or is all just background noise to you at this point?” Sean asked.
Grayson was honestly surprised it had taken this long to get a question about it. Usually interviewers go straight for the subject and rarely touch on anything else. “It’s background noise,” Grayson stated. “I don’t put much stock in rumors, nor about what’s being said about me online. People are entitled to their own opinions, and as a public figure I’m subjected to being the center of more than a few of those, but at the end of the day, they’re just that: opinions. Theoretically, I suppose, I could let it feed my ego, but that’s never going to matter as much as what those who are actually close to me feel. I don’t exist to be the subject of conversation, whether that be positive, or negative.”
“That’s a good outlook to have, especially for someone your age,” Sean told him. “Although, I will admit that we here at First We Feast had a scroll through your Instagram feed, and I have to say, the comments are wild. I won’t torture you by reading through them, but that’s got to be kind of a crazy experience, to have so many people ‘thirsting’ over you, for lack of a better term.”
Grayson rolled his eyes at that, his lips curling in a small smile. “I’m not in the habit of looking at my comments for that exact reason. I won’t feign ignorance about what’s being said, but ultimately I tend to not take much stock in it.”
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“Los Calientes: Rojo,” Grayson read off after taking a bite. His lips burn, a tingle not entirely unfamiliar but a significantly more intense heat than any of the sauces he’d tried prior. “This one’s warm,” he admitted.
“Just warm? C’mon Hawthorne, you might have some ice in you but I can tell it’s starting to melt,” Sean responded.
With a shrug, Grayson said, “I’m not sure if acknowledging the heat is a good or bad thing; if you should block it out or just let it happen.”
“I think you bask in it, you know? I think you just let it burn. Speaking of uniquely singular experiences, you know like Hot Ones is like that, you know, while you’re here you might as well soak it in.”
‘I suppose that’s true.”
“So, your brother Xander is a self-proclaimed scone connoisseur, and a year ago The New York Times published his power rankings of scones throughout all major US cities and he rates them all on a proprietary one-to-five scoring system of flakiness, freshness, flavor, density, and presentation. Do you agree with his system for judging scones, and do you have a food you’d go to such lengths to rank?”
This. This is the question that has broken him. Countless hours of interviews and PR practice and this, the question about his youngest brother’s scone scoring system is what’s gotten him. For the first time in any interview, Grayson doubled over in laughter, setting the palms of his hands on the table. It took a few moments for Grayson to compose himself, and when he did, Sean was grinning widely at him.
“It’s ridiculous, is what it is,” Grayson said, unable to keep a smile off of his face. “But it is so uniquely Xander that I think I just have to agree with it. I won’t call myself a scone snob, but I do know a good scone from a bad scone—a skill Xander has made into all but an art. Although I have to say I don’t think there is a food I would even attempt to go to those lengths to measure. Not to mention the amount of time that would take.”
“So you agree with your brother’s scone mastery then?”
“I do. I don’t know anyone who could contest it.”
“All right, are you ready to move on? Second half here,” Sean said.
With an exhale, Grayson nods. “All right.”
“So kicking things off, we've got the Spicy Shark.”
Grayson could feel the heat immediately as he bites into the wing, and he has to force himself to actually taste it instead of swallowing it down immediately.
“Kind of sweet up front, and then—”
“Then it comes in,” Grayson finished. “I initially thought I grabbed the wrong wing, but I did not.”
“No, you grabbed the right one,” Sean says, and they both laughed a bit as the heat hit them in waves. Grayson wasn’t close to tapping out yet, but he could definitely feel the impact the spice was having.
Not that he’d ever admit it, but he could feel himself starting to sweat in his suit.
“All right, as the second oldest of four brothers, you have a larger age gap with your older brother Nash than you do with either of your younger brothers. How has that impacted your dynamic with each other? Is it still the same, or do you have a different bond with him than you do with Xander and Jameson?”
“It is different, but I think that’s to be expected. Nash is six years older than me, while I have only a year and two years on Jamie and Xan respectively. I respect him immensely, I always have, and he’s a man that I look up to in my own life. Nash has been a steady, unshakable force, and that’s really only increased since he became a father. I find myself learning a lot from in, in ways I didn’t before, although that can more likely be attributed to my own stubbornness,” Grayson said.
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“Jalapeno Chico here,” Sean read off.
Grayson attempted to let the heat wash over him, and just acknowledge it, but the spice was a lot more intense with this one than the one prior. “All right,” he managed to get out, letting his eyes close for a moment. “I’m competitive, I won’t go out, not now.”
“You got it, you’re there. Just let it sit there.”
“So, in the vein of you being competitive, there’s something I need to know,” Sean started. “I’ve only heard rumors about this, so you’ll have to confirm it for me, but if my sources are to be believed, then there exists a competition between you and your brothers called a Drop? Care to explain what, exactly, this is?”
Grayson raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t at all what he’d expected to be asked. “Your sources? I have to admit, you’re the first outside of the Hawthornes and Hawthorne adjacent group I’ve heard bring this up,” he said. “But to answer the question, a Drop is something you get challenged to at my grandfather’s ski lodge. It’s essentially a game of chicken, where your aim is to make it farther up the mountain on the ski lift than your opponent, not calling Drop too early or late. I won’t tell you how many bones have been broken, but I’m sure you can guess.”
Sean laughed. “I think I can. Have you broken any yourself, or is that something you left to your brothers?”
Grayson shrugged. “Who’s to say?”
Grayson had in fact broken more than one bone when challenged to a Drop, but there was no need for anyone watching to know that.
“This next chicken wing, on the topic of things that are dangerous, here we go: The Bomb. Beyond insanity.”
After he took barely a bite, the intensity hit him immediately. “Woah,” Grayson choked, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, immediately.”
“Right, I barely had it on my teeth and it hit me,” Grayson took a breath, the heat still rolling through his lips and mouth in waves.
“Yeah, and just be careful around the eyes,” Sean added.
Grayson nodded, “Got it.” Scratch his earlier statement, Grayson was going to make Jameson try this one. It tasted like hell on a chicken wing. It was awful.
A sharp exhale escaped him as Sean attempted to ask the next question. Realizing Grayson’s agony, he cut himself off, laughing slightly. “That’s good, this is the show, this is the show.”
“It is just sitting on my tongue right now,” Grayson said
“And keeps growing and keeps growing on you, like the worst is never over.”
After another moment, some of the heat began to subside and Grayson said, “All right.”
“Do you remember the first time you realized you were Grayson Hawthorne? Like, I’m talking, realized just how famous you are, and understood what that meant? I mean, growing up in the spotlight from such a young age is something so few people will ever truly experience. What was that like?”
Grayson opened his mouth to answer the question, but another wave of spice hit him and he coughed instead.”Oh my god,” he said, his voice getting slightly rougher. “That is insane. You willing do that every day. I mean, you’re getting paid for it, but still.” Grayson took a moment to let the heat pass as Sean laughed. “There isn’t exactly an exact moment, because in a way, I always knew. Growing up the way I did, with my brothers and grandfather, we were raised to be anything but ordinary. So the outside attention that comes from being a part of my family has always been there. It’s never been something I’ve considered living my life without.”
“Really? So you’ve never even thought about what your life would look like otherwise and just accepted it for what it is?” Sean asked.
Grayson nodded, and the heat still hasn’t diminished. “I am still trying to get through this sauce,” he said. “That is ridiculous.”
“I know, it only gets worse, it only gets worse.”
“But yes, I truly haven’t given it much thought. I tend to avoid spending much time considering what-ifs along those lines, because it only revolves around what hasn’t happened and what won’t,” Grayson added.
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The next bottle reads, “Alchemy Peppers: Hopp Sauce” and it was just as bad as Grayson anticipated it being. He forced himself to breathe through the fiery pain in his mouth, and the heat has made him warm all over.
“This is genuinely awful,” he breathed out, closing his eyes again. His skin felt warm, like his internal temperature was actually rising. It was ridiculous, he knew it wasn't, but still. This was shaping up to be one of the worse messes Jamie had gotten him into.
“You got it, you’re so close. Fourth quarter, you can do it.”
“I need you to know,” Grayson said, using all of his will power to push through the pain, “that I am winning a significant bet with my brothers right now.”
“Is that so? They didn’t think you could do it?”
“They had no faith,” Grayson agreed dryly.
“Underrated, underrated.”
“Come on, I told you I’m competitive,” Grayson said as the heat still flooded his mouth.
“So, earlier this week some photos of your younger brother Jameson went viral as he street raced an Aston Martin Valkyrie at the Texas Motor Speedway. Is this an activity that you’ve also partaken in, or is there something else you do to get the adrenaline going?”
Jameson is so dead when Grayson gets his hands on him. Alisa wasn’t going to be pleased that the little street racing incident had wormed its way into this interview, given that the whole point was to distract people from it. But who was Grayson to turn down a question?
With a wolfish smile, Grayson tried to swallow down the lingering flames in his mouth. “I won’t confirm nor deny that, as I’m not in the habit of incriminating myself. However, what I will say is that if I were to do so, I certainly wouldn’t get caught by the paparazzi.”
Sean laughed, eyebrows raising. “Oh? So what I’m hearing is that if you have, no one knows?”
“You could say that,” Grayson said with a shrug. “As for the second part of the question, I can’t say there’s really just one. Hawthornes don’t tend to turn down dares, so there’s very little I haven’t done in terms of adrenaline chasing. Although, if I had to pick a favorite, I’d go with skywalking at a stadium in London.”
Grayson didn’t bother elaborating on why that was his favorite, but he can’t quite keep the smile off his face at the memory of Nash’s bachelor party.
The last bottle of hot sauce is the Hot Ones: Apollo sauce. “I’m doing what you do,” Grayson said as he went to shake some of it onto his last remaining wing, although more than he’d intended came out, covering it in sauce.
“Oh, shoot,” Sean remarked as he did the same, but not being one to give up, Grayson just shrugged it off.
“Alright, whatever,” he said. “I’m showing out today.”
“Yeah, for real!”
Grayson held his wing out and nodded to Sean. “Salute.”
“Hey, what a run,” Sean said, holding out his own wing.
“Absolutely.”
“Look at us right now, who would’ve thought.”
With that, they both bit into their wings, and Grayson set it down with a bit of drama as he chewed. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could taste anything other than the spice, half convinced the rest of his tastebuds were already burned off. “Oh man.”
“I know, I know,” Sean started, “but it’s all over. Wings of death are behind us. And you know, when I was going through some articles about all of your achievements over the years, I can’t help but wonder what, for you, feels the most defining, so with your brain on fire, your mouth ablaze, hit some of your highlights, what you think has had the most impact.”
Grayson coughed, his eyes watering slightly. He doubted he’d be able to describe the taste of this wing if he tried, given the only thing his mouth was telling him was fire. “Yeah, I mean, I mentioned the charity foundations, and those really have been such a huge part of my life. Before my grandfather passed, I was working on a huge proposal to shift some of our internal spending at the Hawthorne Foundation, and that was something I’d started at seventeen.”
He had to swallow hard to keep the burning in his mouth at bay, and he could only hope that he didn’t look as awful as he felt. “But more recently, I’d say it’s something that doesn’t have to do with my achievements at all, and that would be my family. My brothers, Nash, Jamie, and Xan, my sisters Gigi and Savannah, and now all of the others that have joined our world, so Avery, Libby, and the twins. Learning from them has been a huge shift in my life, and I’d say that’s what defines it the most right now.”
“And you know what, I think you’re only going to add to the resume today, taking on the wings of death, living to tell the tale, and now there's nothing left to do but roll out the red carpet for you, Grayson Hawthorne,” Sean said, smiling. “This camera, this camera, this camera, let the people know what you have going on in your life.”
Grayson made eye contact with the camera and did his best to get it together, despite the heat that still threatened to burn the inside of his mouth off. “This year’s The Grandest Game goes live on October eighteenth, where my brothers and I, alongside Avery Grambs, will be kicking things off on Good Morning America, so stay tuned because you won’t want to miss it.”
There was a brief pause before the production crew started clapping, and Grayson watched as the cameras stopped rolling. Grayson coughed again, laughing slightly as his eyes watered.
“Nicely done, man, nicely done,” Sean said as he reached out a hand for Grayson to shake.
Grayson took it, smiling. “Never again. I’m not sure I’ll be able to taste anything for a while.”
Sean laughed. “Now you just have to convince your brothers to do it. You made it look easy.”
And make them he would. Xander would be no problem, and Jamie was too competitive to turn it down, spice tolerance be damned. But Nash may prove to be difficult. He’d have to go to Libby to convince him. Grayson was hardly above bribery via significant other.
But still. Never again.