Page 26 of For The Record

“What did I do to you?” I mutter under my breath, folding my arms over my chest, a rush of anger flooding into my veins immediately.

He backs up, his tense glare softening into a neutral expression. “Nothing. Sorry, but in case you haven’t noticed, someone just leaked a rough demo of Ryder’s brand new song three days before it was supposed to drop, so, yeah, we’re kind of in a bind here.”

My mouth drops open. “Who?”

I don’t hate Ryder enough to be happy about this. But panic spreads through me. Selfish as it is, my career is riding on his. If he’s a success, I will be, too. My first thought is for myself. If this were a Titanic situation, would I pass him a life vest?

“Trust me, Skye, if I knew, we wouldn’t be here.” With that, Mark goes to his desk, leaving me to decipher his cryptic comment.

I make my way over to my cubicle, purse swinging from my shoulder. When I open up my laptop, I notice a green sticky note on the table.I know you did it.Balling it up and getting ready to throw it into the trash bin, I stop myself. Instead, I tuck it into the pocket of my cream-coloured blazer.

Maybe I should save the note as evidence. Evidence of what, though? Something I can report to HR? It’s not like they would believe me. I could have very well written it to myself and been trying to stir up drama. Huffing a sigh, the note remains in my pocket, seeming to burn a hole through the linen fabric as I check my email.

Three radio stations, two tabloids, and five more reputable magazines have emailed me asking about Ryder’s song being leaked. Just as I click on the REPLY button, I see Leo walk by. Tension rises in my body, making me fight the urge to see my breakfast—a yogurt parfait and coffee—make a reappearance. What if he also thinks I leaked the song?

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice me. Just when I think Leo is going to completely breeze past, he instead pulls out the empty desk chair next to mine and sits down. “Good morning, Skye Holland.”

“Leo.” I stare at the blinking cursor after having typedDear Cindyin response to one of the TMZ reporters before tearing my eyes away, trying not to groan in frustration. Emailing will be the death of me. I’ll have carpal tunnel by the time I’m thirty and lose my job… if I don’t get fired in the next twenty-four hours. “I heard about Ryder’s song being leaked. Do you have any specific comments on that?”

Speak of the devil. Ryder Black rolls into the office—well, not literally, though I have seen him skateboard to work before—wearing Ray-Bans, a leather jacket, and far too much Old Spice.

Leo stands up, his gaze on mine impassive, unreadable. He’s all business today, a far cry from the relaxed guy I went on a date with, who flexed his biceps and threw axes at a wooden target. “Actually, I was just about to call a meeting to discuss that.”

As he’s announcing the meeting to the PR team, my phone buzzes with a text. Ryder.You and my boss seem pretty cozy.

My shoulders stiffen.Last time I checked, my love life was none of your business.

For a minute, nothing. Then, a link from TMZ:Leo Perez spotted at Ryder Black’s party with mysterious brunette beauty!The image is blurry: my face is obscured by potted plants, only the colour and vague silhouette of my gown visible. I doubt I was the only one there wearing teal.

You don’t know that that’s me.I type furiously, before slamming my phone on the table facedown. Maybe with too much force. Mark jumps and looks at me askance, his brows narrowing. Before he can say anything snarky, however, Leo speaks.

“If everyone could please join me in the conference room in five minutes, that would be great,” Leo says, his voice ringing throughout the room.

The bustle of activity, if possible, only becomes more frenzied. Everyone makes a beeline for the conference room, and when about fifteen people—almost all of them have names I can’t remember—are packed inside, Leo begins to speak. “This shouldn’t take up too much of our time, hopefully. Give me an update on where the media are at on the situation and tell me where we are with finding out where the leak came from.”

“Our findings indicate that the leak came from an internal server,” says a nerdy-looking guy with tattoos running up and down his arms, bared by a Simpsons t-shirt, and black-rimmed glasses. I’d bet that he was an IT guy if I were to put money on it. “So it’s someone who works for Volume Records, or had access to a computer that’s owned by Volume.”

If Leo is distressed by this news, he doesn’t show it, instead telling his secretary, Annabelle, to type it into an iPad. “Anything else? Anyone?”

Taking a deep breath, I begin rattling off the names of the magazines, journalists and editors who have asked me for comment. “Daily Mail, Variety, People, TMZ, and Capital FM, just to name a few, have been asking for a comment on the leak.”

Leo frowns. Across from him, Ryder speaks up. “Wouldn’t it just be adding fuel to the fire if Skye were to respond? I mean, it looks bad. For her. And the company.”

The room is pin-drop silent. I guess he said what they were all thinking. That I’m only here to sabotage Volume because I hate my ex-boyfriend so much, I would do anything to ruin his career.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryder, but if you have a personal conflict, you can bring that up to HR on your own time,” Leo says smoothly. “Miss Holland is an asset to our PR team, nothing more, nothing less.”

Everyone begins talking again, all at once, but now in hushed murmurs. I’m so tired of feeling like a damn snake in the grass, everyone whispering around me as I pass. Lifting my chin, I look Ryder in the eye, daring him to make another comment.

“I just meant, um, that it would be better to have someone else speak to the press. Skye might be too close to the situation.” Ryder is digging his own grave. I’d love to hand him the shovel, but one of us has to be the bigger person. And it looks like it won’t be him.

“It looks like I might have leaked the song,” I say flatly. “Which I didn’t do and would never do. Does anyone else have something to contribute?”

Leo nods, his features set in a nonchalant expression. “Well?”

Mark clears his throat. “Leo, I think we should conduct an internal investigation and confiscate all electronic devices.”

“Why do you say that?” To my surprise, the tone of Leo’s question isn’t one meant to discourage, but actually meant to understand. Jennifer Wong would have slaughtered anyone who tried to tell her what to do. And in Louboutins, nonetheless. I almost miss her predictable volatility.

---