Page 40 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

I arch an eyebrow in response. “They do?”

“Who fucking knows. We can’t actually prove that they do. But on the same hand, they can’t prove that they don’t. Brilliant, right?”

“What exactly are you trying to do?” I ask, my tone growing sharper.

“What do you mean?” Liam grins but it’s smug.

“I mean why are you trying to slander everyone around us? None of these other publications are our enemy.”

“They’re competition which might as well be the enemy, Savage. You should know this.”

“How is a magazine that writes articles about the best place to eat brunch competition for us? We are a business magazine.” I shoot out. I know I am walking on thin ice here. Liam hates to be challenged. But honestly, I am done.

“You’re joking right? Jesus fucking Christ you have gotten dumber with age, E. I swear to god. You want to know why we are at odds with them? And every other fucking magazine on the racks? I’ll tell you why.” Liam stands up, bracing his hands on the desk and learning towards me, trying to gain some sort of high ground. So I stand too as he goes on.

“Magazines are dying, Savage. Everything is online now, everything is hearsay. Half of what people consider news is just people going rogue on fucking social media reels. No one cares about journalist written articles anymore. The racks are getting smaller and that means real estate on those racks is sales driven. Nobody cares what genre you’re in, if you want to stay alive, stay in print, stay at the fucking top, you have to BE the fucking top. Business, fashion, sports, music, it doesn’t matter. If you don’t sell, you die. And I don’t know about you but I am not about to watch what I’ve built go up in flames.”

“But spreading lies about other people who are in this for the same reasons you are is not the way to do it!” I shout.

“Maybe you don’t think so but I am not going to lose everything all because people don’t give a shit about good writing anymore!” He shouts back. “I created this. This magazine, this standard, this following.”

My jaw pops open at the audacity of his words. “You? You created it? By yourself?”

“The way you are in and out of the office recently with nothing new to show for all yourhard work?” He uses air quotes around the last part. “Yeah. Yeah I am going to take credit for the success of NBT.”

I nod, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “I see.”

“You see?” He mimics me. “What do you see?”

“I see that for years you were my best friend. And even when you were climbing up on a soapbox, I defended you. Despite not always agreeing with you, I defended you. But you know what? I’m not going to do it anymore. You are so caught up in the money and fame aspect of this that you forgot why we started a magazine in the first place.”

“It’s a business magazine, Savage. It’s always been about money.”

I shake my head. “Not for me. For me it was about us being friends. Brothers even. And doing what we love. Writing for people. But I guess I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Liam narrows his eyes at me.

“We are not the same.”

Before he can say anything else, Rose knocks on the door frame and walks in. “Mr. Sloane, I have the articles you asked for.”

“Thanks, Rose. Just set them on the table there,” Liam says dryly, reaching for his flask again. She does as he asks but stays in the doorway.

I make my way over and grab the stack of papers, sifting through them. “Food blogs?” I look at him.

Liam says nothing. He can’t.

“I also happened to come across a couple other blogs that might help you out,” she adds timidly. “Though they’re not about food. But they are about the industry and I found them to be interesting. A little scandalous even…”

“Just put them on the table, Rose.” Liam lets out, waving his hand at her. He is sitting back at his desk, his feet up, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose and the other holding the flask. Rose finally takes the hint and walks out. I grab the second stack of articles, flipping through them. Most of them are rookie blogs, everything from conspiracy theories to human rights activists. Most of it is trash. But just before I am about to throw the stack back down and storm out, I stop.

Towards the bottom of the stack is a blog I recognize.

A blog I know.

One I’ve studied and read.

It’s Izzy’s.

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