Page 36 of Off the Record

“Help me look through these numbers. I’m putting together a presentation to give to my uncle about keeping theRhythmon. I need concrete, scientific evidence it’ll make him more money. If we find that, we have a fighting chance.”

The sheer number of papers covering the table is overwhelming. His efforts are incredible. I can’t let myself think about that, though, so I pull a chair out and start sifting through the reports and trends in the company. Hudson stands over his chair, watching me.

“You planning to help?” I ask without looking up, trying to lighten the feeling between us with a joke.

“Thanks for coming, Paisley.” His tone sounds hopeless.

I glance at him. “I’m here for the paper. For my friends.”

“I know.” He sits down, and together we get to work.

Hudsonand I put aside our differences of opinion and spend the next few days poring over stats and figures and projections until our heads spin. I’m in his office on Friday afternoon, glancing over his final presentation and searching for anything he could add to give us an edge. It’s pretty thorough, and I don’t see how we can do anything else to raise revenue.

There are cuts listed on the proposal, against my wishes, but they aren’t steep. If anything, they’re less than the job cuts we were originally informed about.

“Want to come with me?” he asks, stacking the folders of printed presentations.

I smooth my brown hair behind both of my ears. “Definitely not. I’d rather sit here biting my nails for the next hour.”

His eyes are full and worried. Despite our working together the last few days, we haven’t touched each other at all. He’s keeping his distance, which is both a giant green flag and also makes me yearn for him.

I can’t help but feel like he’s a really good kisser, and I’ve had to mourn the fact that I’ll never get the personal experience to know for sure.

“You should come,” he says gently. “You put so much work into it.”

I’m a writer, not a speaker. I can help put a proposal together, but presenting it is outside of my wheelhouse. I did my part in forming the plan, now Hudson can do his part executing it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll just wait here, though. I won’t be able to work.”

He nods, draws in a deep breath, then leaves.

I spend some time looking through his window at the Nashville skyline, then sit in his office chair. I can see Simone working and Stan on his computer, my empty chair and sleeping computer. I stare at it. From this position, it’s a straight shot to my desk. I close my eyes and hope everything is going well in the office upstairs. The next hour passes like honey through a sieve. I watch the clock move, ticking minute by minute.

Simone looks at me curiously, and a Slack message pops up on my phone.

Simone Blake: Why are you sitting on the devil’s throne?

I chuckle despite myself.

Paisley McConkie: I don’t want to tell you yet. Give me an hour.

Simone Blake: This sounds sketchy. Do I need to do an extraction? Get a team together to free you?

Paisley McConkie: We’re working together. I’m not here against my will.

She obviously—probably?—knows this already, but I’m glad she’s distracting me.

Simone Blake: I’m trying not to pry, but this is weird.

Paisley McConkie: You know I have your best interests in mind, right? I’m trying to help us.

Simone Blake: I know.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Hudson

Meet me on the roof?

What?

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