Chapter 6 #3
“Alright, alright. Let's see. Oh, I like this one.” Nate leveled Connor with a serious look, getting into character.
“Mr. Hayes, considering the influx of investment monies from institutions like Barnes have remained consistent over previous years, what do you anticipate will be the revenue goals vis-a-vis standard expenses for Alarie in the coming fiscal year?”
Embarrassing, how easily Connor found himself tripping up. Maybe it was because he'd never been referred to as “Mr. Hayes” by anyone at Alarie Inc., not even Junie as a joke.
Not even Devore to mock him.
“I anticipate- shit.” Nate was looking at him so expectantly that it was unnerving. Connor found himself trying to swallow around his own parched tongue before sipping his coffee, trying to play it off.
“Based on the projections we're seeing from finance, I anticipate we'll see continued growth in our client services departments that will serve to buffer any unexpected expenses in the coming fiscal year.”
A decent enough recovery, though Nate frowned at him.
“Wait, tell me why that isn't making a false promise.”
“Because I'm deflecting to what I know is going well. I'm highlighting client service - they're a pretty consistent department if you need to point to something that’s going well.”
Nate considered that for a moment. Connor had half a mind to tell him to at least take notes, but then he went and made a connection on his own.
“So, like a magician,” Nate offered.
“A magician?”
“Yeah, you know. I'll dazzle you with how I'm shuffling my cards so you don't see what's up my sleeve. Redirection.”
Not quite the metaphor Connor would have used, but it wasn’t wrong. He even felt himself smiling.
“Yeah, exactly like a magician. So dazzle them.”
Nate shook his head, grinning at Connor as he tapped a finger to his notebook.
“I think you need to dazzle me a couple more times, just so it sticks. Again.”
So far past the line that it should be completely objectionable, and yet–and yet…
The effect was immediate.
Connor felt heat rise up the back of his neck, finding himself starting to sweat under his jacket. He dropped his gaze to his desk, his mouth gone dry.
Absolutely not, he thought desperately. You cannot be doing this. What are you doing?
But his mask was back in place. His mask was always in place, because it had to be, because if it wasn’t, then he wouldn’t know how to live, how to face the world and all that it demanded of him.
And if Connor dropped his gaze down enough, then he didn’t have to see Nate’s face, didn’t have to contend with all that he was helpless but to feel for the man.
Why did it have to be now–and why did it have to be him?
“Fine,” he said, his tone colder. He even stood up from his desk, turning away from Nate so he didn’t have to face him. Eye-contact with the wall was easier than having to look in his direction.
“Are there any concerns about personnel loss in the event of a poor performing quarter?” Nate read, before adding, “That’s about firing people, right? Layoffs? Is that actually something they’re talking about right now?”
“Alarie Inc. was founded on clear principles surrounding integrity, resourcefulness, and utilitarianism. With that in mind, Alarie Inc. is mindful of using its resources optimally,” he answered cleanly, the words rolling right off his tongue.
Then Connor stole a glance at Nate over his shoulder before adding, “Layoffs don’t happen often, but any whispers of that can send investors spiraling. Be as delicate as you can with those questions.”
“Okay, I’m writing that down.”
And he heard Nate moving behind him, the hairs at the back of his neck standing straight up as he moved throughout the shared space, coming far too close just to pull a pen off his desk.
Connor didn’t turn around - he was still looking out the window, the rolling green hills of Irvine, the distant blue of the sea meeting the sky.
Day by day, Nate was learning. Connor supposed he should be glad for that - less work for him, right?
But what happened to that plan he had, burying Nate, showing him for what he really is? Why did the idea of it seem so unthinkable now?
The muffin Junie slipped him that morning felt like it had rotted in his stomach.
“Let’s stop for now,” Connor suggested, slowly turning back from the window to face Nate. “Let’s get you on this call, and we’ll pick it up this afternoon.”
Nate checked his phone for the time and grimaced.
“Guess I forgot. Yeah. Let’s do that.”
This was an easy transition as Nate passed Connor back his notebook and took his place at his own desk, straightening his tie and presenting a new appearance–the polished, young investor relations director everyone knew him to be.
The memo he needed going into this meeting was already typed and printed. Connor slipped it onto Nate’s desk with a polite smile, because it wouldn’t have looked right if he didn’t.
“Oh, thanks. Dunno what I’d do without you, Connor,” Nate said with a grin as he glanced over the memo.
Connor didn’t respond, and he didn't feel warmed by Nate’s words. He only excused himself to his own desk, to his own work, anything to keep the rush of his own thoughts silent.