More Pleasures Read Free Page B

conversation.
    “Package for you.” He held out a small square box.
    “Thanks, Christophe.”
    He smiled, gave me a nod and hurried off. He was my assistant, but he also did odd errands for other people at the company. I was all about work efficiency and keeping busy. I didn't care quite so much about job titles.
    I breathed a sigh of relief when I walked out of the elevator and into my office. I had an open door policy with my employees, but no one abused it. Unless something came up, I had at least a couple hours to myself. I put the package down on the desk and walked around to my chair. I knew what was in it. New business cards that only had my name on them instead of Curt's as well. I hadn't wanted to order them, but I'd known that I had to do it. Somehow, seeing just my name felt more final than it had when I'd accepted his resignation.
    If I hadn't already needed to talk to him, this would've made me want to call him. Curt wasn't my best friend, but he had been the closest person to me here. I sat down and picked up my phone. He answered on the third ring.
    “Rylan, how're things in the States?”
    I smiled despite myself. Curt had always had that effect on me. He'd been the guy who'd kept me from taking myself too seriously. That’s why he'd been such a great public face. He was personable, likable, at ease with the press and with anyone else he happened to talk to.
    “They're fine, Curt. How're you doing?”
    “Shirley and I are great. Having drinks on the beach every night.”
    I laughed. “You sound bored out of your mind.”
    He laughed along with me. “I have to admit, there are times when I do miss a good old nine to five.”
    “Well, your nine to five misses you too.”
    “Ah.” His voice had a knowing note to it. “What is it?”
    “I've been informed that Archer Enterprises has an image problem.” I jumped right in. Another thing that had made Curt and I such great partners. Our transition from small talk to business had always been quick.
    “Really? Who told you that?” Judging by the lack of surprise in his voice, this wasn't news to him. Curt always kept up on things.
    “Only half the blogs and papers on the West Coast,” I said wryly. “An issue with one of our games.”
    “ Bridger's Doom ,” Curt said. “An obscene easter egg on the fourth level.”
    “I fired the programmer who did it,” I said. “And I recalled the product, offered a full refund as well as a replacement once the glitch is fixed.”
    “But you didn't have a press conference. You didn't apologize,” Curt said. “You should've been making the rounds. Interviews, talk shows, the whole nine yards.”
    I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “You know I'm no good at this, Curt. I'm not the guy who charms crowds. I'm fine one-on-one, with people who speak my language, but I suck when some reporter asks me a bunch of shit that has nothing to do with work.”
    “It's been eighteen months, Rylan,” he said. “Maybe it's time for you to hire someone for public relations.”
    “And what are they going to do?” I asked. “Tell me the right things to say; which programs to go on. They won't let me work in peace.”
    He was silent for a moment, his voice soft when he spoke again, “When was the last time you went out? Spent time with friends?”
    “I saw Zeke a couple weeks ago,” I said, my voice lifted in defense. “And I had a date last night.”
    “A date?” Curt sounded amused. “Rylan, I know you. That wasn't a date.”
    “What does it matter?” I asked, annoyed for a reason I couldn't quite explain. “My social life is my own business.”
    “You take things far too seriously,” Curt said. “What happened to the guy who used to hack into the school's mainframe and play with the Christmas lights?”
    “He started his own company,” I said as if my answer explained everything. My annoyance faded as quickly as it had come. I had been that guy once. Now, responsibility took over. Even when I was