Page 143 of And Now, Back to You

CALLER: Did you see that Delilah Stewart quit?

AIDEN VALENTINE: What?

AIDEN VALENTINE: When?

CALLER: Right now. She quit in the middle of her report.

CALLER: Does Jackson know? Was it part of a plan?

CALLER: Is it because of the illicit affair they refuse to talk about?

[pause]

AIDEN VALENTINE: We’re going to take a break for some music. Hold tight.

CHAPTER 36

JACKSON

I squint at my computer screen, leaning closer. “Who spends $216 on confetti cannons?” I click another tab on Hughie’s spreadsheet and scroll. “And why are Doritos a corporate expense?”

The man in question skids to a stop in the doorway of my office, chest heaving. “Did you—” he wheezes out. “Did you see—” He bends in half, pressing his hands to his knees.

“Your Dorito addiction? Yeah, I did. The station isn’t paying for these.” Hughie plants one hand against the wall, his forehead against his forearm. I frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ran here—from the—Dunkin’,” he barely manages between deep panting breaths. The closest Dunkin’ is almost a mile away, and Hughie has never been much of a runner. “I saw it on my—phone. Delilah—” He makes a sound like a foghorn and slips halfway down the wall. “Delilah—”

“What about Delilah?”

Maggie appears in the hallway behind Hughie, her phone in her hand.

“Did you know?” she asks. Her look is faintly accusatory.

“Did I know what?”

“About Delilah.”

I feel like my head is about to pop off my shoulders. Tension radiates up my spine, cinching at the very base of my skull. “Someone better start explaining what the hell is going on.”

Maggie and Hughie exchange a look. Behind them, Aiden skids to a stop in the middle of the hallway. He still has his headphones around his neck, the cord dangling behind him. His cheeks are flushed, like maybe he ran here from the Dunkin’ too.

“Why didn’t you tell me Delilah wanted to quit?”

“What?”

“She just quit,” Aiden says. “In the middle of her weather broadcast. Our call boards are going insane.”

I stand up from my desk so fast my knee hits the underside.

“So you didn’t know,” Maggie says.

“I had no idea.” I grab for my phone, my keys, my jacket hanging on a hook behind my desk. My body is relying on pure muscle memory while my brain runs a mile an hour. “When?”

“Just now.”

I glance at the clock. She’s supposed to be in the middle of her afternoon report. I’ve been playing it on the small TV in my office every day this week because I like the way she says prognosticate, but I got caught up in my spreadsheets and I missed it.

I force my arms through the sleeves of my coat.