Page 4 of Off the Record

Dalton continues. “If you previously reported to Ben, you’ll now report to Owens.” He turns to Hudson. “You want to say a few words?”

Hudson doesn’t speak right away. He’s scanning the crowd like he wants to make eye contact with every single one of us. Naturally, I sink lower in my chair.

“It’s no secret I’ve been on the review committee working to analyze this paper,” he says.

Which is fancy forchoosing whom to fire and whom to keep.

He stands at the head of the room with an easy expression, handsome and comfortable being in control. “While I’m in this interim position, keeping theRhythmrunning smoothly is my priority. I’ll be conducting a series of interviews today while I get my bearings. Please have your notes ready to discuss all projects for the remaining quarter.”

“I’m prepared,” Leo says. Two minutes back and he’s the same old butt-kisser he was before.

“Great.” Hudson keeps scanning the faces until he snags on mine. Our eyes lock, and I can’t tell if he’s about to exact revenge for ruining his pants or is dying for a coffee to bring his response time up to speed, because he hovers a beat too long.

“Why is he staring?” Simone hisses.

“Paisley McConkie?” Hudson calls, making every face in the room look my way. “I’d like to start with you.”

two

DidHudson Owens just full-name call me out in front of the entire office? He’s still watching me expectantly, his bright blue eyes blinking. A subtle lift of one dark eyebrow is all it takes for me to crash down to earth, and I find myself nodding profusely. “Yes, sir.”

“Great.” He turns his attention back to the group. “Please take the morning to prepare your quarter’s projects for discussion. I look forward to getting to know all of you better.”

His tone has a magical element that somehow conveys the meeting is over. Without being explicitly told to, we all rise, dispersing to our various parts of the office. Simone clutches my arm tightly, steering me from the room toward our grouping of desks, her smile forced. “What was that?”

I catch Leo’s questioning gaze as we pass him but look away. “No idea. Am I about to get fired?”

Simone yanks me to a stop, her brown eyes wide. “No. Don’t think that way. Going first gives you an edge. Use it.”

An edge of what? Hudson will be choosing who remains and who leaves during his tenure here. I suppose I still have time to prove myself. After my last article about how to catch good livemusic downtown kind of tanked, though, I have reason to be worried.

“Besides,” Simone mutters. “The man has a reputation.”

“Multiple reputations,” I remind her. He’s not just a ladies’ man. I heard once that the first thing he did when he was hired as editor-in-chief of theTribunewas fire a fifth of the staff writers. No one is safe.

She nods. “His receptionist’s desk is like a revolving door. He dates them and drops them so fast. Maybe he wants to add you to his list of conq?—”

“Don’t say it. I’m so far beneath his notice, it’s laughable.”

She puts up both hands in surrender. “Fine, but keep your guard up. He wants you to go first for a reason, and it’s not seniority.”

“Right, it’sfiringme,” I say, repeating the most reasonable explanation. I’m the lowest columnist on the food chain. The newest addition. Besides, the man might be a player, but I’m not his type. I’ve seen images of his dates on social media. He likes tall, gorgeous models. Not average, frizzy-haired writer nerds.

I gather my computer and head straight for Ben’s—no, Hudson’s—office. He’s already waiting behind the desk, looking at his computer screen. His eyes flick up when I enter and linger on my face for a beat before rising to my hair.

My cheeks warm, remembering the image that looked back at me when I tried to fix my hair in my rearview mirror. There’s no other way to tame this poofy mess. My hair isn’t curly, or even wavy. It’s a few inches past my shoulders and mostly straight, but the slightest amount of stress sweat or humidity and it puffs up like a haggard bear. I should just shave my head. But I have a feeling it would make me look more 2007 Britney and less Cara Delevingne chic. Biting back every instinct to smooth down my wayward frizz, I paste a smile on my lips and move into the office.

“Will you close the door?” he asks, eyes running over the screen of his computer again.

“Of course.” I shut the door, catching Leo’s watchful suspicion across the room through the big glass window. I promptly spin around to find Hudson’s blue gaze fastened on me, making my breath hitch. The weight of his full attention is heavy. It isn’t freely given, so when you have it, you haveallof him.

It’s a little heady, to be honest. I can see why his secretaries keep falling for him.

“Please be seated.”

Okay, I’m staring again. He flusters me, though, which is fair, since he gets to choose whether I keep my job. I worked so hard to reach the point where I could write forThe Nashville Rhythm. I’m not going to give it up without a solid fight.

I just need to make him see the value of my column.

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