Chapter 7 #3
He could already see Nate start to waver, rethinking his ask, starting to take it back. But Connor was faster.
“Na- Mr. Santos, I’m available for us to review those talking points right now if you need me.”
Junie only shook her head, picking her phone back up and resuming her scrolling.
Ryan and Liam looked like they’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.
He could see Liam trying to be subtle about the way he glanced at Nate, studying his suit, guessing at his ranking and Connor’s quick responsiveness.
No doubt he was on his way to calculating the fallout Junie might take from that outburst.
But Nate looked just as uncomfortable as Liam and Ryan, glancing between Connor and Junie like he had stepped somewhere he shouldn’t be.
“Are you sure?” Nate asked, doubtful. But Connor was already on his feet, pulling his workbag over his shoulder.
“Text me after Elle’s presentation,” Connor said to Junie, his tone markedly softer. Her grimace faded.
“Yeah. See you,” she said.
Not an apology, not one from either of them, but apologetic enough. They’d talk about this later, each swearing to do better. Far from the first time their egos had bruised each other.
But Liam and Ryan still wore twin deer-in-headlights expressions, not answering when Connor bid them good luck on their first summits. He didn't think much of it as he left with Nate.
They made polite conversation as they exited the ballroom, stepping out into a white marble hallway and heading left. Connor could tell Nate just wanted to talk about his presentation later, redirecting the conversation every so often.
“Did you drive down here with, uh…” Nate started to ask at one point, his voice trailing off.
“Junie,” Connor finished. “No. I drove myself. It's only an hour from Irvine, so not terrible traffic.”
“You live in Irvine?”
“Yeah, only a few minutes from the office. You don’t?”
“No, I’m over in Santa Ana. Twenty minutes on a good day. Forty-five on a bad,” Nate said, pulling a face as he did. “I hate driving already, but when you add in traffic–it’s a nightmare.”
That gave Connor pause.
Though it was the neighboring city, Santa Ana had a less-than-desirable reputation among the well-to-do of Irvine. Not that he found anything wrong with it. Hell, in some ways, Santa Ana had more going on than Irvine.
Irvine was, as he’d come to learn, little more than a corporate city.
Dry, well-designed, but boring. The grounds manicured, the streets swept, the undesirables removed.
Like Disneyland for the corporate elite of Orange County.
Connor might have left the city for something a little cheaper, but he liked his apartment, almost as much as he liked an easy commute.
Santa Ana couldn’t have been more opposite. There, people lived.
Connor didn’t tell Nate any of this, because they reached their destination soon enough. It was a nondescript conference room that Nate led him into, holding open the door as he did.
Even here, the styling of the Les Grande carried through across the furnishings.
Elegant frosted glass windows, a mahogany table, leather chairs.
All complete with a digital whiteboard in the rear.
Connor took the chair closest to the whiteboard and pulled out his laptop, starting it up and navigating to the files they’d need for Nate’s panel.
Nate, on the other hand, had taken to pacing around the circular table, his too-calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the anxiety he battled beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry about Junie, by the way,” Connor said, drumming his fingers against the wooden table while he waited for his laptop to connect to the resort WiFi. It was painfully slow, and that had him stalling out of habit. “She’s normally more professional than that, but…”
“No harm,” Nate waved him off, rubbing at his jaw. “Your girlfriend was probably feeling nervous about today, right?”
It was the kind of comment that Connor normally would have ignored. But for some reason, he found himself speaking.
“No, she’s–she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend–another assistant–another executive’s, uh–” When had he started stammering?
Was it the coffee? It was like some combination of caffeine and his own need to correct Nate had taken over and he couldn’t stop talking.
“She works with Thornton–you know, marketing–I mean, PR. We're friends–we’ve been friends for a long time and–and I’m gay. ”
And like the shattering of a priceless statue, there he’d gone and done the thing he’d sworn he never would at work, like someone else had been puppeting his body, speaking words in his mouth.
He could feel Nate’s gaze on him in the silence that followed, seconds ticking on into an uncomfortable, endless chasm.
Fuck, he wished he hadn’t eaten that croissant for breakfast, and he really wished he hadn’t had as much coffee as he did, his stomach twisting itself into knots, acid bubbling in his chest. He might actually be sick, right here, right in this conference room.
Why the hell had he even done that? What did it matter if Nate thought Junie was his girlfriend? Most everyone who knew them at Alarie thought as much, and it had never bothered him before.
But Connor knew the reason why, and as much as he tried to drown it out, it had never been more obvious than now.
“Oh,” was all Nate said, something unreadable in his expression. Not that Connor spent much time studying it, ducking his head down as his ears burned.
“Anyway, you wanted to go over the presentation, right?” He managed, voice tight. He could do this, power on through while trying to cling to whatever scrap of his dignity that still remained.
Dignity. Right.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Nate seemed to return to himself with a sigh and a grimace. “Yeah, let’s, uh, let’s review and maybe–I’d like to practice deflection techniques if you’re… I mean, if you–”
“Not a problem,” Connor cut him off, trying to return to his role of the competent assistant. By some miracle, he managed to type in his password despite his hands feeling weak. He clicked around his desktop, pulling up documents they’d set up for Nate’s panel.
Everything but the audience.
The clock in the bottom corner of his screen read 9:13 A.M. Guest registration would probably run until about 9:45. Potential clients, potential investors, media partners, each arriving at their leisure and receiving their required attendance badges. Then they’d want to mingle.
Despite that start time, Connor knew the first presentations wouldn’t start until close to 10:30.
That left plenty of time for them to review, practice, rehearse.
“From the top?” Connor asked, pulling up their slide deck from his myriad of open windows and tabs.
Nate nodded and tightened his tie before taking center stage in this tiny meeting room.
The presentation itself wasn’t terribly long, only about half an hour, but time hardly seemed to pass as Connor watched him run through his talking points.
Managing the technical side of the presentation wasn’t difficult.
They coordinated as one body, Connor changing slides and pulling up supporting figures, one by one, while Nate hit every one of his talking points without so much as a quiver in his voice.
He bore a natural magnetism, an easy candor in the way he was able to talk and talk. At times, Connor seemed to find himself forgetting this was just for practice as he watched Nate, nodding along at different points, even finding a genuine chuckle when he’d throw in a polite joke.
Maybe that flicker he felt in his chest was jealousy–and why wouldn’t it be?
Hard not to feel a little twinge of jealousy at just how natural Nate was, a handsome face and charismatic voice spinning even the most lackluster numbers.
And even when he smoothed over an unfavorable figure from marketing with a complete deflection to their client service projections, Connor found himself smiling, resting his chin against his hand as he watched Nate.
Incredible. Really, and truly. He was incredible.
Nate finished with a little bow, adding “And here is where an audience would hopefully clap, right?”
“I’ll clap,” Connor said with a smile, giving a very polite golfers clap before exiting the presentation. “Great job.”
He meant it. Nate must have been up late practicing and practicing until his words flowed like the fountains just outside of this meeting room.
“Thanks.” Nate’s smile was a little less certain. “I keep wondering if it’s enough.”
“It is. I think you’ll really impress them.”
Even Berkshire, Connor didn’t say.
But even that reassurance seemed to be exactly what Nate needed, his expression softening.
“You think so?”
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
Connor checked the time again, letting out a low breath. Just before 10. They had maybe twenty minutes at most.
“Did you get something to eat?” He asked, looking up at Nate over his computer. Nate was in the middle of flipping through his own handwritten notes before realizing Connor was talking to him.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Nate set his notebook down, that troubled expression returning. “Think we can do some Q&A stuff?”
Connor had a feeling he hadn’t answered honestly and made a note to try to sneak him something once the presentations started.
Not that he could blame him. Nate clearly was more worried about his own presentation that afternoon, so Connor decided that if playing this game of theirs was going to make him feel better, then he’d do it for as long as he needed.
“Yeah.” He closed his laptop, drumming his fingers against the silver shell for a moment as he thought up something new for Nate.
“Mr. Santos, I’ve been hearing concerning rumors regarding internal Alarie Inc.
memos dictating potential plans to outsource administrative staff.
What do you have to say in response to these rumors? ”