C7 Carter

Audrey is standing in the doorway to my office, clutching a notepad to her chest like it’s armor. She looks different than that night, three weeks ago, when she’d been hyperventilating inside a dark bar. Her dark brown curls are swept back in a low ponytail and the dress she’d worn is long gone. In her place is a woman in slacks and a blouse, professional, her attention fully focused on me. Her eyes are wide. “Carter?” “Audrey?” I stand. “What are you doing here?” “I work here.” “Here? At the Globe?” “Yes,” she says. Then she looks out at the hallway, as if my assistant might hear. She pushes the door closed. “I told you I was a journalist!” “I never thought you’d work here,” I say. “Started two weeks ago, actually.” That makes me smile. “Which is why they’re sending you up to interview me for the company newsletter.” She frowns at me, like I’ve just offended her. Like we haven’t given each other much worse punches over text. “You’re the CEO,” she says, voice tense. “You work for Acture Capital?” “I’m one of the co-owners, yes,” I say. “We acquired the Globe a few weeks ago, though negotiations have been on-going for over a year.” She takes a seat in the chair opposite my desk and demonstratively opens her notebook. I sit back down. Despite the irritation etched on her face, her features shine more without the makeup she’d worn in the bar. A smatter of freckles dance across her nose.

An old phrase my mother likes to say flashes through my brain. The kind of woman you earn, not charm. “So,” Audrey says, picking up her pen. “What made you want to acquire the Globe?” Then, before I can respond, she puts her pen down again. “How can you be the new boss of the company I work for? How did this never come up in text?” “We never spoke about our jobs.” “We should’ve,” she says. “I can’t believe this.” I rub the back of my hand over my mouth to hide my amusement. She’s not impressed by this, then. Weirdly enough, it makes me like this sarcastic, funny, intelligent enigma of a woman even more. A lot of women like what I do. Never for what it entails, and they never want to hear the details, but they seem turned on by the SparkNotes version. I open my mouth, but she cuts in with an irritated sigh. “I guess this means I can’t ask you for advice anymore.” “Of course you can,” I say. “Excited for your date on Friday?” “I can’t talk to you about that, you’re my boss! My boss’s boss’s boss, probably. It would be wrong.” “We’re the same people.” “No, we really aren’t,” she says, and opens her notepad again. This time, it seems like she’s determined to keep it open, because she starts jotting down notes. “I haven’t said anything yet,” I say. “You’ve said plenty,” she mutters. This time I don’t try to hide my smile. “What questions have you prepared?” “None,” she says. “I was told to head up as soon as I got the task, and that there’d likely be pre-prepared talking points.” Technically, there are. I have them in front of me on the desk, a set of bullet points the editor-in-chief, Wesley, had given me. Aspects of my leadership he thought would be good for company morale. I don’t look at the paper. “It’s better if you conduct the interview,” I say. “You’re the journalist, right?” She shoots me a look that’s dark with irritation. So she’s annoyed that she can’t keep texting me, then, or else she wouldn’t have reacted this way. Oddly enough, that makes me glad. Talking to her had become one of the highlights of my day.Odd, and unexpected, sure. At times a distraction from work. But fun in a way I hadn’t had with a woman in years. Fun without expectations or pretence. “Fine,” Audrey says. “I’ll repeat my first question, then. Why did you want to acquire the Globe?” I lean back in the chair. I’ll have to give her an honest, professional answer, even if the only thing I want is to keep riling her up. “Acture Capital has been looking for an opportunity in the media sphere for years. The Globe fit the bill. It’s a paper with a strong history, solid human capital, and prospects. It was also struggling in areas that Acture felt could be amended.” Audrey nods, her head bent over her notepad. “Has Acture Capital, or yourself, worked with the media industry before?” She knows what questions to ask. “It’s a new foray for us,” I admit, “but my partners and I are confident that the knowledge and capital we bring are up for the task.” “Right,” Audrey murmurs, her pen working. “Why were you the one elected to become CEO of the Globe? If you have partners?” I put my hands on the edge of the glass desk. “I’m interested in the industry. It’s worth preserving and protecting.” Audrey looks up from her notepad. I meet her gaze, seeing hesitation in hers. “You believe that?” she asks. “I do.” “So you’re not just here to turn a profit?” “A good journalist knows how to make their subject feel at ease,” I say with a grin. “I’m feeling a bit attacked right now.” “Attacked,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You don’t feel attacked at all.” “Honestly? I want to turn a profit,” I say. “Of course Acture Capital wants that. So does the Globe, in fact. It hasn’t for a long time, which is no secret to any of the employees who might read this newsletter. Feel free to put it in there.” “But you’re slashing departments,” she says. “Aren’t you?” I pause. “Where did you hear that?” “Co-workers talk.” “No decisions have been made,” I say. “But you are firing people,” Audrey challenges. Her eyes are blazing on mine. “I saw Phil from the music section just earlier.”