“You on your dinner break?” I recognize the statues behind him— he’s at Rockefeller Plaza.
He tips a salad to the camera. “Getting in my greens before a late night.” He checks his watch. “If it’s almost seven here, that means it’s four your time. Can’t believe you actually ditched work early. So unlike you.”
“Funny story, actually.” I adjust my baseball cap. “I got fired.”
Bryan drops his salad.
“Sorry. Should’ve warned you to hold on to your dinner.”
“Man, fuck my salad. What happened? Last I heard, you were going to bat for the band with some crazy scheme.”
I break down and tell Bryan everything I’ve kept from him out of fear that he’d disapprove, from my leak to Roger’s ultimatum. When I’m done, he’s strangely quiet.
“Earth to Bryan. What’s going through your head?”
“Hold on.” He moves to an empty corner table, then says, “I don’t know if you want to hear my opinion.”
“Of course I do.”
“Look, I know I’ve been encouraging you to take your job less seriously for a while now, but I didn’t mean you should blow up your career. Especially over a girl.”
“It was the right thing to do.” I think of Kenny’s phrasing. “Not for Hannah, but for me. My integrity.”
Bryan gives me a doubtful look. “Oh yeah? You would’ve done that foranyof your clients? You’ve never gotten negative feedback on an album and simply revised?”
“This was different. The album didn’t deserve to be scrapped.”
Bryan shrugs. “That’s business.”
“We’re talking about the band’s heart and soul.”
Bryan shakes his head. “What I hear you saying is that Hannah needed saving, so you once again volunteered to fall on your sword.”
“I might’ve worked for Manifest, Bry, but I wastheirmanager. I had to make a decision about who was right, and I chose them. Don’t give me a hard time. Be proud of me for finally standing up to Roger.”
He and I look at each other for a long time. In the background, I can hear sirens and honking, the music of a New York evening.
“Let me ask you something,” he says finally. “If Hannah jumped off a bridge, would you follow?”
“Is she in trouble?”
“Goddammit, Theo.” Bryan groans. “The answer is supposed to be no.”
“I’m—or, Iwasher manager. I have a responsibility—”
“I swear.” Bryan laughs, looking off-screen. “If you keep pretending this is about a job . . . ”
We’re quiet for a moment, letting the waves on my side and the noise of the city on his fill in for us. A call from Kenny pops up on my screen, but I decline it. I’ll call him back later.
Bryan sighs. “Gemma’s obsessed with this Enneagram personality stuff, so maybe blame this on her, but she swears you’re a Type Two, the Helper. And apparently Helpers are good at taking care of other people but bad at taking care of themselves, to the point where sometimes they have to be bullied into it. Consider this me bullying you.”
Kenny pops up on screen again. Frowning, I decline the call. I can’t interrupt Bryan when he’s on a roll.
“Fine,” I say. “Bully me. But then we’re going to have a talk about the dangers of believing in pseudoscience.”
“It’s not pseudo—” Bryan takes a deep breath and recenters him-self. “Just proceed with caution when it comes to Hannah, okay? She’s not exactly the most stable person in the world. Maybe she’s beautiful, and a charismatic guitar savant, or whatever. But you loved your job, and you gave it up in a heartbeat. That worries me. I’m afraid she has the ability to genuinely hurt you.”
Kenny’s calling again—three times in a row. The hairs on my arms raise. “Hold on, Bry. I need to take this other call.”
