Page 128 of End Game

There’s a pressure behind my eyes that has absolutely no business showing up over sandwich crumbs.

“We?”

“If you want another set of eyes on a proposal, yes.” She pauses. “And I might have a contract for you.”

I look up as my eyes widen.

“Laugherty has a software launch coming. Carter and I are handling the core campaign, but I want more support on organic social and creator strategy. Some launch copy, potentially.” She gestures toward my laptop. “What you’ve just shown me is relevant.”

“You want to give me a contract for Laugherty?”

“Yes.”

My mouth opens, but she keeps going before I can produce anything useful.

“I’m also about to disappear on approximately fifteen hundred honeymoons.”

“Fifteen hundred and forty-nine,” I correct playfully.

“Something like that.” She smiles. “They’re spread out, but I need coverage that doesn’t require Carter or others to absorb everything every time I leave.”

“Are you saying you want me to cover for you?”

“I want to start you with a project. Defined deliverables and a proper contract. If we work well together, we can talk about more.”

“I don’t know anything about your company or your software.”

“We’d give you a briefing.”

“I don’t have—”

“Cami.” She waits until I meet her eyes. “You asked better questions about your client’s landing page than some people ask about an entire launch. I can teach you our product. I need someone who knows to ask why people aren’t signing up.”

The restaurant carries on around us. Silverware clinks. Somebody near the counter laughs. Our server walks past with a fresh pot of coffee.

I’m sitting very still. “I don’t want you to do this because you feel bad for me.”

Her face softens, but her answer is immediate. “I don’t spend my department’s budget because I feel bad for my friends.”

Friends.

Then Alexis turns her notebook back toward herself and asks when I could realistically start.

“I have two deadlines early next week. After that, I could make room. Depending on how much content you need and who handles approvals.”

“Good questions. I’ll include that.”

Something in my chest loosens enough to let me breathe all the way in.

“Okay,” I finally say. “Send me the brief.”

“Send me your portfolio link.”

I do it before I can make the request into something scarier than it is.

By the time we ask for the check, my coffee is cold again, and my notebook app contains more questions about both marketing and polycule logistics for a lawyer.

“We still need to get everybody together,” Alexis says as she slides her laptop into her bag. “Dinner at our house? Before Christmas, if we can make the schedules work.”