Page 87

“Hey, Brex. Anything crazy going on today?”

“Sorry, no witch orgies in the waiting room, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

“Oh, geez. Don’t remind me.”

“Everything’s pretty calm. Though, I got the pleasure of overhearing some girl eviscerate Declan, then wrap his entrails around his throat and strangle him for good measure. Metaphorically, of course.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Wanna bet that won’t end up in the podcast?”

“Knowing them, they’ll splice bits together that make her sound unhinged to further back up their ideas that women cannot stay rational enough to win a fight.”

“Oh, they can try,” Brex said. He tapped playfully on his sticker-covered phone.

“You got it on video, didn’t you?”

“Every last word.”

“And you’re sitting on it because…”

“I’m biding my time. Waiting for them to drag her name through the mud. Then I’ll post it and enjoy my five minutes of fame. It might get me fired, but it would be worth it.”

“I will give you a glowing reference if it comes to that,” I assured him.

“Oh, fair warning… the boss man is here.”

“Again?” I exhaled hard. “Thanks for the warning.”

With that, I made my way past the waiting room, seeing a group of what had to be young witches, given how many crystals they were wearing, and made my way toward my office.

To find Mr. Lane waiting for me.

“Maggie. Good. Just who I needed to see.”

Obviously, given where he was standing.

“Hey, Mr. Lane. What can I help you with?”

“This.” He slapped a folder down on my desk.

“And what’s this?” I asked.

I reached to flip open the folder, finding a brochure for the very influencer convention that Tess and Margo had been gushing about since they went the year before.

“A contract.”

“For Clout Circuit? Are we setting up a table there this year?” I’d only asked for four years in a row, but who was counting? Also, holy last-minute planning, Mr. Lane.

“No. No. It’s not for the station.” Of course not. That would make too much sense. “It’s for Silas.”

“Silas? Silas is going to Clout Circuit? Tall, brooding, people-hating Silas?”

“Well, he hasn’t agreed yet. That’s where you come in. I need you to get him to agree. And sign that contract. By ten o’clock tonight.”

“Mr. Lane. That… that might not be possible.” And not only because I had no desire at all to try to convince Silas of anything.

“Make it possible. I’m counting on you. This is going to be huge for the show, for the station…” For his plans on getting a vacation house in the Hamptons.