Page 62 of Spearcrest Queen

Dog Work

Evan

The boardroom at Inkspillisn’t much of a boardroom at all. More like a converted storage room at the back of the office, wedged between crooked green filing cabinets and a bookshelf stacked so full it sags to one side. The long oak table is scarred with scratches and coffee rings, and a row of dying plants slouches beneath the window, reaching for sunlight that never comes.

The pathetic fallacy, if I were to analyse it, isn’t exactly inspiring confidence.

The team’s already seated when I walk in. It’s hard not to feel nervous around them: Matt is the closest to me in age, and he’s still five years older than me. Patch, the most patient one of them all, has been doing this probably almost as long as I’ve been alive.

But I force myself to take a deep breath, smoothing the front of my shirt as I take my seat. I’m not wearing a tie, this time, and I’ve replaced the suit with plain slacks and a dress shirt. My notes are already spread out in front of me, and I straighten them with a fumble of my fingers, clearing my throat.

“Alright,” I begin. “I’ve been looking at our finances, and the reality is, we need to make serious changes if we want to survive.”

Inés lets out a tiny scoff. I ignore it.

“We’re haemorrhaging money,” I continue, flipping open the folder in front of me. “The overheads are too high, and the profit margins on academic books are too thin. As far as I can see, we really only have one viable solution: we cut costs, streamline production, and downsize where necessary.”

Silence. Mina purses her lips and swaps a look with Matt. Both of them look away with barely disguised smirks.

Patch is the first to speak

“Downsize, eh?” he says. “Downsize what exactly?”

I hesitate, just for a second, but that’s all it takes for Inés to cut in.

“Wait, let me guess,” she says. “Reduce print runs? Maybe fire the marketing department entirely?”

Patch gasps. “I’m getting the sack?”

Matt raises his hand like he’s in a classroom. “If anyone’s getting the sack, I’d rather be the first.” He rolls his eyes. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Inés,” Mina says sweetly. “If Patch and Matt get the sack, does that mean I can have their wages?”

“Nobody’s getting wages,” Matt says. “Haven’t you heard him? We’redownsizing.”

“Nobody’s getting sacked or losing their wages,” I say, cutting them both off—even though it’s definitely an option I’d considered. “It’s about making adjustments. We have to be realistic. We need to focus on books that actually sell and allocate our resources accordingly.”

Matt sighs like he’s just heard the dumbest thing in the world. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Evan,” Inés says, slowly, like she’s explaining something to a child, “this isacademicpublishing.Nothingwe publish turns a profit.”

“Look, ethics and pedigree and principles are all great, but this is a business, and we don’t have the luxury of pretending money doesn’t matter. If Inkspill goes under, all of this”—I gesture around the table—“goes with it. Do you understand?”

I press my fingers to my temples, frustration mounting. “I’m just trying to help keep this company alive.”

“No, you’re not,” Inés says coolly. “You’re trying to turn us into a corporation.”

“Well, if we don’t start acting like one, we won’t exist anymore.”

“But if we survive by becoming something totally different,” Mina says, “then how is that different from not existing at all?”

For a moment, nobody says anything. I sit back down with a sigh, gazing hopelessly around the room.

“What’s our other option?” I ask finally.

“We find people who believe in what we do,” Inés says. “People who care about thework. And I mean genuinely care—not just about the money.”

“Icare,” I snap before I can stop myself.

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