Page 47 of The CEO I Hate

The noise in the atrium of the Los Angeles Convention Center was so loud I could barely hear myself think, never mind hear whatever the hell Carl was yammering about next to me. Something about a follow-up meeting I had with Damien Alverez about his damn space pilot and approving the newEnd in Firepromotional stills for the billboard on Hollywood Boulevard.

“Sign this,” he said, shoving a tablet into my hands.

I screwed my face up staring at the screen. “What is it?”

“The letter of appreciation we’re sending out to LAFD for all their help consulting onEnd in Fireso far. Would probably be a good PR move to invite some of the firefighters to the set, make them background in a few scenes this season.”

“That’s good,” I said to Carl, scribbling my signature and handing the tablet back. “Talk to Paula and get that on the books.”

“Oh, that’s us!” Carl said as an announcement rang out overhead. All I heard was murmured garbage. “Q&A in Hall A.”

“How the hell can you even hear what they’re saying?”

“Because it’s my job,” he said, whirling away and stalking through a group cosplaying Doctor Who. I sidestepped a TARDIS with legs as I followed him.

GeekCon LA had fallen at the perfect time to promote season two ofEnd in Fire, so I’d had marketing get us on the roster, scheduling us for a panel with some of the cast and crew. As the cherry on top, Paula had pulled together a sneak peek from episode one to get the fans talking.

As we walked into Hall A, every chair was taken by an assortment of anime characters, supervillains,Star Treksomething or others, and one very realistic-looking Gandalf. My eyes drifted to the stage where a series of chairs were set up under the glow of the spotlights. The logo forEnd in Fireflickered across the projected screen at the back of the stage, and as Paula walked out with a microphone, the room burst into applause.

“Look at this crowd!” she said. “Don’t you all look fabulous.”

More cheers.

“Well, thank you all for being here today. We’ve got a lot of good stuff in store for you this season. So let’s welcome some very special people to the stage to tell you all about it!”

Leo Sinclair appeared from behind a curtain, smiling that perfectly crooked smile at the crowd. Every middle-aged woman in the room swooned in their chairs. Carl snorted beside me. “He really milks that eye candy of Firehouse 14 thing, huh?”

I grumbled my response as more of the cast filed out, my eyes lingering on that curtain, waiting for Mia. She’d been invited to sit on the panel as the head writer, and though she’d been excited to attend with the cast, Paula had said she’d sounded a little nervous. Looking at her now, though—and I was, taking in every inch of toned leg ondisplay in her fitted black skirt—it was hard to see anything but excitement.

She beamed, waving at the crowd as Paula introduced her. Once everyone was onstage, the lights dimmed, and the audience quieted to whispers as Paula’s episode one sneak peek played on the giant screen at the back of the stage.

Phones started recording everywhere, but I’d already approved that. I didn’t mind if a few ten-second clips got out. The fact that the panel was packed and the audience was receptive was a good sign, but all I could do was think about everything riding on this season being a success. People were seriously invested in the show. We needed to nail the rest of the season.

I couldn’t let anything go wrong.

Which, of course, is exactly when I saw the dog.

A flash of gray fur streaked across the front row like a low-budget CGI blurb, skidding to a halt right before the stage. He was wearing a red cape made from a hacked-apartEnd in Firepromo tee. Glitter letters on the back readEND IN FUR.

“For fuck’s sake,” I growled, leaving my seat and hoping no one would notice it. I moved fast, keeping low, trying to blend in with the line of crew along the wall. A security guy clocked me, started to move forward, but I gave him a look.

The dog, meanwhile, was making friends.

He trotted down the edge of the stage like he was doing a goddamn red carpet strut, tail high, tongue out, pausing only to graciously accept ear rubs from a woman in a Firehouse 14 Wives Club tank top.

What was the dog’s name again?

“Ash,” I hissed, hoping it’d have some effect. “Ash.Ash.”

Nothing.

The damn mutt made a beeline toward the stairs leading up to the stage, right as the sneak peek hit its climax. He stopped before the climb, turned, and locked eyes with me.

Was he…was he daring me?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I lunged.

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