Page 126 of End Game

“Yeah.”

Then almost as if she’s talking to them and not me, she adds, “I didn’t get a master’s degree and work my way up the ladder so people could decide my qualifications were who I’m sleeping with.”

For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then she nudges the basket with a few fries left toward the middle of the table.

“Anyway, what are you working on right now?”

I tell her about a client who wants better engagement but keeps rejecting anything that sounds like a person might have written it.

“He asked me to make it more authentic and personable,” I explain, “then replaced ‘help’ with ‘facilitate.’”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course he did.”

“At this point, I think he wants the company to sound like a printer gained sentience.”

Alexis laughs so hard she has to put her sandwich down.

I’m halfway through describing another account when she asks, “Can I see?”

Confusion must color my expression.

“Your work.”

“Oh.”

My hand goes to my laptop bag, then stops.

Showing somebody a finished post is one thing. Showing the marketing director of an actual corporation work I assembled at two in the morning while waiting for a client to send the right logo feels considerably less casual.

“It’s mostly small businesses. Independent contractors.”

“That’s fine.”

“Their budgets aren’t—”

“Cami,” she practically scolds. “I’d like to see what you do with the budgets they have.”

Well… fuck.

I move my sandwich basket and open my laptop.

The first account is a local business whose owner finally agreed to appear in her own videos after months of insisting nobody wanted to see her. I pull up the public page, then the reporting view I’ve already cleared to use in my portfolio.

Alexis leans closer.

“This one did well,” she says, pointing at a video.

“For views, yeah. But this is the one I’d do again.” I scroll to a much less impressive-looking number. “She’s answering a question people actually ask before they book. We used a separate link, and the booking form asks how they found her. It’s not perfect attribution, but this one brought in far more appointments.”

“Was there paid support?”

“Not on these.”

“And you wrote the scripts?”

“Talking points. She sounds like she’s being held hostage if I give her a script.”

Alexis smiles, but her eyes stay on the screen.