Dumped, Actually(18)

‘What?’

She leans forward again, this time with a lot more animation. ‘Write about it, Ollie! You said talking to me felt therapeutic . . . Maybe getting it all out there to our subscribers will make you feel even better!’

‘Oh God, I couldn’t do that!’ I reply instantly, feeling my guts roll over.

‘Why? You’re one of our best writers. I knew that the minute I read “I Have a Rom-Com . . . And I’m Not Ashamed to Watch It”. And that feature you did last month about that weird restaurant, Control, Alt, Del-Eat, still makes me giggle every time I read it.’

‘Please. Don’t remind me. I can still taste the grasshopper,’ I reply with a grin.

Then I remember that I’d taken Samantha along to the place to help me review it, and the grin disappears instantly.

‘A feature about dealing with, and getting over, heartbreak would be wonderful for you, Ollie,’ Erica continues. She’s dropped into career-journalist mode now, unfortunately. If my boss has a flaw, it’s that her worldview tends to be driven by her commitment to her work. That’s what made her an award-winning foreign-affairs reporter in the first place, and what drove her to start Actual Life when the constant travel became too much. ‘It would be incredibly popular, as well. Everyone has been dumped at one time or another. Reading about your heartache could help other people with theirs!’

‘I don’t think I’m up to something like that.’

‘You could ask them for advice!’ she carries on, not listening. ‘I bet our subscribers would love that! An interactive feature, where you talk about what happened with Samantha, and ask for ways to cope with the heartbreak! It’d be fantastic!’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t, Erica, I really can’t. It’s just too raw for me right now.’

For a second, she looks like she’s about to protest, but seeing the look of pain in my eyes brings her up short. ‘Okay, Ollie. I understand,’ she says, a little deflated.

It’s a solid idea for a feature, of that there is no doubt. A lifestyle website trades on that kind of subject matter all the time . . . but I just don’t think I can manage it – any more than I could manage that article about great marriage proposals, albeit for very different reasons. All I want to do is go back to my desk and finish up that article I’ve been writing about retro cinemas, start that next feature about the bloody mocktails, and completely forget about my destroyed love life for a few hours at least.

‘What was the email you mentioned?’ I say, trying to change the subject.

Erica rolls her eyes. ‘He’s at it again.’

She doesn’t need to say who. We both know who she’s referring to.

‘What is it this time?’ I say, dreading the response.

In just the past five months, ForeTech has reduced our staff of twelve down to eight, cut our expenses budget by half, reduced our server space by even more, and forced us on to a cheaper web-design software package that only does about a quarter of the useful stuff the old one did.

My ongoing romance with Samantha was the only thing keeping a smile on my face in that time, and now she’s gone the situation at work seems even worse.

‘He’s decided to issue an ultimatum about subscriber numbers,’ Erica says, her expression darkening. Her red hair has definitely gone a shade darker too. This should be impossible, but it has, nonetheless.

‘What kind of ultimatum?’

‘He says if we don’t get them back above thirty thousand by the end of the month, he’s shutting Actual Life down.’

I let out a gasp. ‘Can he do that? Can he really do that?’

Erica shrugs. ‘Maybe? Probably? Who knows?’

‘But you’re on the board of directors! Can’t you vote any move like that down? I thought that was the reason you agreed to join ForeTech’s board when you sold the site!’

‘It was. But Benedict knows how to sweet-talk the others. He probably wouldn’t have let his company go public if he couldn’t. And if they decide to vote in favour of liquidating Actual Life, then there’s not much I can do about it on my own.’

‘Oh God.’

‘Yes. My thoughts exactly. I’m going to try to work on them myself in the next few weeks, and convince them to block any move Benedict makes to shut us down, but I don’t hold out much hope of it working.’

Erica looks decidedly miserable at the prospect of this. And who can blame her? Selling to ForeTech seemed like a good idea two years ago. It certainly brought more cash into the company to begin with. But, slowly and surely, Montifore has bled us dry – especially in the last few months. The bastard has made a fortune buying, selling and upgrading web-based companies. When he discovered that Actual Life was never going to be the profit-making powerhouse he thought he could turn it into, everything went sour. And now we all pretty much hang by a thread . . .

Erica bangs a hand on her desk, bringing me out of this unpleasant train of thought. ‘Well, we’re not going to keep the site running by sitting here talking about it. Do you feel up to working?’

‘Of course I do!’

I’m not sure I really do feel that way, but a bit of positivity probably wouldn’t go amiss, for multiple reasons.

‘Great. Can you get that cinema feature done by this afternoon?’