Page 50 of Glitched Play

Elevator by five-forty.

Office by six.

Fuck, I forgot work out.

Maci Hart is disrupting my brain function because I said something to her that never should have escaped my mouth.

My brain keeps returning to the same sentence.

They don’t expect me to be normal.

Not because it’s untrue. Because truth is dangerous when said to the wrong person, and Maci isn’t my friend. She’s not Rune and hell I didn’t tell that to her for over a decade.

I sit behind my desk staring at a line of statistics for the streaming service. I’ve already read it nine times. Once we reworked the algorithm recommending even higher rated shows than what they were originally looking for, customers are browsing longer and the watch time has increased. I’m happy but it makes me think of Maci solving the issue in a matter of hours.

I sit back and sigh, running my hand through my hair.

The way she looked at me last night after Noelle left the kids. How the corners of her mouth tipped when she brought the kids a glass of milk to go with the big sheet pan of cookies I ordered from a restaurant around the corner.

She looked at me like I had given her something special. And I did. No one sees me with my family like this. Maci looked at me like she understood me better.

That’s worse.

Pity can be dismissed. Curiosity can be redirected. Understanding requires acknowledgment.

I don’t have time for acknowledgment.

I have a foundation gala on Sunday, an e-football season launching next week, sponsors arriving in less than twelve hours, investors expecting reassurance, and a boardroom full of executives from all the e-football teams who still believe numbers matter more than people.

Numbers matter.

People are simply harder to predict.

My office door opens.

Dara steps inside carrying her tablet and my coffee. “You’ve been staring at the same screen for eleven minutes.”

“That’s not accurate.”

“It is. I checked.”

I look up. She sets the coffee in the correct place.

Good, at least one thing is functioning.

“The meeting starts in fifteen minutes,” she says. “Maci is already in the boardroom.”

My attention shifts before I can stop it. Dara notices, unfortunately.

“She’s early,” I say.

“Seven minutes.” Not five. Not ten. Seven. Long enough to organize her notes. Short enough not to waste time.

I dislike that I know that.

Dara opens her mouth but I shut her down.

“Don’t.”