Page 34 of And Now, Back to You

“This is Hughie,” Maggie offers, grabbing his clipboard and jotting a note down in the margin. “He helps out around the station.”

“I take care of what needs taking care of,” he says with a nod.

“You can start by taking her jacket, Hughie. Thank you.”

The small, strange man takes my coat and disappears without another word. Maggie heaves a long-suffering sigh. “He asked to do a college rotation credit here and I haven’t been able to get rid of him since.” She bends and picks up the box of mints. “Though I suppose he does serve his purpose well.” She angles her chin toward the booth. “How’s Jackson doing?”

“He’s, um. Well.” I scratch at my neck. “He’s not doing great.”

Maggie’s mouth twists.

“Is it always this bad?” I ask.

Through the glass, Aiden tosses a small foam football at Jackson. It hits him in the middle of his forehead. He doesn’t react. Aiden and Lucie exchange a concerned look.

“Not this bad, usually, no. When he has to do something outside of his forecasting, he rambles a bit, but he doesn’t usually shut down,” Maggie says. “I didn’t give him much time to adjust, which is my fault. I know Jackson is a creature of habit.”

I rub my lips together. “He thinks Keith agreed to this assignment to embarrass us both. That his anxiety is being . . . weaponized, I guess.”

“Keith isn’t that diabolical,” Maggie says with a snort. “You have to possess at least two brain cells to be diabolical.” She cuts a look in my direction. “Sorry.”

“Please,” I laugh. “I’m not loyal to Keith. Speak freely.”

“Oh, thank god. I thought I was going to have to launch a side quest to convince you that he sucks.” Maggie shifts her body, dropping one shoulder against the glass wall of the booth and crossing her legs at the ankles. Her hazel eyes are penetrating. “It’s why I suggested the partnership. You’re better than what he has you doing.”

“What? You’re like my . . . broadcast fairy godmother?”

A sharp smile curls the corners of her mouth. “I’d look ridiculous in tulle. My main goal is, and always will be, the station.” She eases a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “This is an opportunity to give the station serious exposure, and Jackson is brilliant.” We turn in unison and look at him through the glass. He’s gripping his headphones to his chest like they are an emotional support teddy bear. Maggie frowns. “When he’s not having an existential crisis.”

“You think he can pull it together in time?”

Maggie’s phone rings and she glances down at the ID. “I know he can,” she says, distracted. She silences her phone and regards me with cool, assessing eyes. “What about you? Can you hold it together?”

“I can. I will.”

“Good.”

Her phone rings again. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and taps the green answer button. “How did you get this number?” she snaps.

I’m close enough to hear the low rumble of a man’s voice in response.

Maggie huffs. “Stop bothering me. I have work to do.”

She taps End Call. Another immediately rolls in. She scrolls up with her thumb and blocks it without hesitation, but another rolls in. And then another.

Maggie’s fist clenches around the edge of her phone, knuckles white.

“I need to deal with this,” she says.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“You’re on in seven minutes,” she offers. Her phone is still ringing in her hand. An angry buzz that’s somehow picking up speed and intensity. “The bathrooms are down the hall. There’s a vending machine stocked with snacks. Aiden keeps the good coffee hidden, but feel free to bribe him with these.” She hands me the box of chocolates that came from Hughie and taps the headphone in her ear. “I’ll be listening. Good luck.”

She’s off without another word, raising her phone to her ear and hissing out a string of what I can only assume are creative and spectacular threats. Maggie seems the sort to wield her words as weapons, and I have no doubt they’re deadly.

I’m just turning toward the booth when my phone starts to ring, a picture of my grandpa flashing across the screen.

I remember the day I took the picture. A baseball game. The first truly warm day of spring. The sky so blue it made my eyes hurt to look at and Grandpa’s wide and toothy smile, the seats of Camden Yards stretching out behind him like an ocean of green.