Chapter 7 #4
“Well, Mr. Hayes, that’s the thing about rumors–we hear them and we’re concerned, but they’re not always based in reality,” Nate began, starting with a small smile before starting to pace back and forth in the tiny meeting room.
“As you know, Alarie Inc. values optimal inclusion of our human resources, including our administrative staff which continue to be the heart of our day-to-day operations.”
“Don’t say ‘human resources’,” Connor said, though his smile was hidden behind his hand. “It’s great, what you said, but ‘human resources’ sounds a little robotic.”
“What’s better, valued staff?”
Connor shook his head.
“I’d use ‘optimal inclusion of our valued team’ if you’d like to keep it simple.”
Nate pulled his notebook back so he could scribble that down, leaning over the table as he did, biting his lip. Connor could only imagine that he was more concerned with what he was doing wrong than what he was doing right.
That felt familiar. How many times had Connor been in the same position? And how long had it taken for him to find some balance? In many ways, he still hadn’t. No doubt it was the same for Nate–and he knew it wasn’t deserved. But what did it matter to him what Nate did or didn’t deserve?
When did he start to feel so protective over him?
“I liked your first sentence. I thought it was–” he cut himself off, not wanting to say very you or even charming, so instead he said “I thought it was personable.”
“Personable? Personable how? Like approachable or full of shit?” Nate asked, his voice cracking.
“It’s a good thing,” Connor said, his tone gentle. “Personable. Like, personality. That’s what it means. Your first sentence showed a lot of personality.”
The lines between Nate’s brows creased.
“I know what personable means,” he said in a quiet voice, practically wilting.
Connor bit the inside of his cheek. Nate was sensitive today. He could only imagine what Berkshire might have said to kill that easy charm and confidence he’d come to expect from him.
“I know you do,” Connor said gently. “I’m saying, that’s a good thing. Do that again, okay? Would you like another question?”
Nate relented with a nod, some spark returning to him with a half-smile.
“Yeah, okay. Give me a hard one.”
A hard one?
Connor paused for a moment, thinking. And then, he decided, why not go with a question he’d seen asked at one of these panels before?
“Mr. Santos,” He began, pursing his lips together as Nate raised his eyebrows. “It’s been reported to our firm that management compensation is ballooning vis-a-vis shareholder-approved value standards. What can you report on this?”
“That’s an excellent question, Mr. Hayes, and I completely understand where you’d be concerned by seeing such reports,” Nate said, and there it was, like someone flipped a switch and a performer had taken center stage again.
“What I can tell you is any changes to upper-management compensation is strictly handled by an independent oversight committee. Any variances in these numbers are coming from performance-based metrics, and we’re keeping meticulous records to ensure there aren’t any conflicts-of-interest.”
Oh, it was a mouthful, but Nate had managed it without so much as a stutter.
Connor thought for a moment of Cathy McGull and her bloodhound of an assistant–something Barlow, his name was.
Well, it didn’t matter what his name was, because they weren’t going to find a single drop of blood on Nate. He was clean, cleaner than clean.
Practically a saint.
“I couldn’t have answered that one better myself,” Connor said decisively, like anyone could disagree.
All he could think about was how good Nate was going to look that afternoon as he stood on that stage. Addressing media, investors, clients alike, presenting the slides Connor worked on, throwing out dazzling answers to ridiculous questions. Nate in his element, Nate in his success.
More than that, Connor wanted to see the look on Berkshire’s face when he found out it was Nate’s damned assistant who set him up for success.
But Nate still didn’t seem so convinced, pulling up a chair and all but collapsing into it, handsome face darkened with worry.
“I keep getting these–these visions, where I’m up there and everything you and I went over is completely out of my head, and then I start putting my foot in my mouth over and over again,” he almost whispered, clasping and unclasping his hands, tan fingers interlocking, shifting, clenching, releasing. All in some frenetic, rhythmic pace.
It was starting to make even Connor a little nervous, but he tapped that down. He couldn’t manage Nate’s anxiety as well as his own. His would be felt later, during the presentation if he could help it. Not a single moment before.
“You won’t,” Connor reassured him, meaning it. “You’ve put in too much practice for that to happen.”
He figured pointing to what Nate could control might help. Besides, at this point, there was very little Nate could do to fuck up. He had a solid presentation and he had a pocket full of notecards if he started to forget anything.
“It wouldn’t be just me embarrassing myself,” Nate said with a shake of his head. “I mean, anything I do would end up reflecting back on you, too.”
“Then I’ll claim your victory,” Connor replied smoothly, but the creases in Nate’s forehead only deepened. It wasn’t what he needed to hear.
“What if I stutter my way through it?”
“Okay,” Connor paused before continuing. Nate seemed to be on the precipice of a downward spiral, and time was running too short for him to even start down that path. “And what if you end up doing well?”
Nate’s baffled expression was Connor’s opportunity to continue–so he did.
“Think about it. What if you give a better presentation, a better Q&A than the rest of the board? What if you blow them away and they make you CFO?”
He was looking at Connor like he’d suggested a strip tease to start off his panel, like there was some joke going on at his expense.
Well, it wasn’t like Connor could blame him. He probably had the same expression when Junie started talking to him like this sometimes, finding him while he was at the end of his rope, standing at the edge of the roof and looking down onto the walkway below.
He usually thought she was being ridiculous, but he’d be damned if it didn't work.
“That’s not going to happen,” Nate said slowly, so Connor nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. I think it’s about as likely as you embarrassing us by forgetting everything we’ve practiced,” he explained dryly. Nate still looked lost, clearly not following.
“Look, if this is your idea of a pep talk, it’s not–”
“It’s not a pep talk. I’m saying, looking at a continuum with two extremes, you’ll probably end up somewhere in the middle.”
“Be average, is what you’re saying,” Nate translated, and Connor nodded.
“Exactly. Trust me, as long as Simmons is still on the board, there’s always going to be someone at the bottom. And with him around, it won’t be you.”
“So, second from the bottom is good enough. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Exactly. Still better than the worst one up there.”
And somewhere in their staring contest, Nate broke, a smile finding its way to his face again.
Sunny skies once again.
Connor found himself returning that smile, the moment between them stretching far longer than necessary.
All was silent in this conference room, all except for the whirring of the projection motor, the thrum of the who’s-who of Alarie Inc. just outside this little parcel, and the sound of Connor’s own heartbeat pounding in his chest.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Connor,” [22]Nate remarked after a long moment where neither of them said anything at all. It was too genuine, too kindly.
But it broke the silence and the spell they’d both been under.
Connor shifted his gaze, looking past Nate.
“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied, because what else could he say?
That they were interrupted by a knock at the door was no small miracle.
“Come in,” Connor called out reflexively, not waiting to see Nate’s expression.
The door cracked open and Liam poked his head in, glancing between Nate and Connor with a nervous grimace.
“Ms. Thornton’s presentation will be starting soon,” he said. “I was asked to make sure you would be coming.”
Asked by whom, Connor wondered, but didn’t ask because Nate responded as though he’d touched a live wire.
“Ah–yes, uh–yes, Connor, I think–it’s–we should–”
“We’ll talk after Ms. Thornton’s presentation,” Connor cut in, rescuing Nate from himself. He was already on his feet, closing his laptop, slipping it into his side bag while managing a smile at Liam.
But Nate still wore this expression that Connor didn’t know how to read, how to interpret.
Something in those dark eyes, just for him.
Something he shouldn’t be seeing.
He knew better than to be seduced by good looks and dark eyes, and Connor certainly wouldn’t allow himself to be compromised in front of witnesses.
“Show me where Ms. Thornton would like us to sit,” he said to Liam, letting him lead them both out of the room.