Page 94 of The Midnight Frequency

“Many, yes.”

“Make it make sense.”

“I can appreciate the art without agreeing with the content. The same goes for philosophers. I can appreciate the work of Kant while not agreeing with takes such as geography determining morality.”

“Can I pick out a record to try to prove a point?”

“I’m on tenterhooks.”

With that, she started digging through my records as I read the contract more thoroughly.

“This is not just to stand at an event and sign autographs for fans.”

“What is it?” she asked. She was side-sitting on the floor with a pile of records in front of her.

“It’s a contract to… perform.”

“Perform? Perform what? Your radio show? At a con?”

“It appears so. There are also pages relating to Madison.”

Maggie’s head whipped up. “What? What about Madison?”

“Apparently, the con and Mr. Lane are going to attempt to contact Madison and pay her to be on staff. That would, in turn, force her to call in at the convention.”

“How… how would they contact her?”

“I suppose the next time she calls in, having Jack call her back so we have her number.”

“Oh.” Maggie’s head ducked as flicking through records seemed to take all of her focus. “Do you think it will work?”

“Hiring her? I don’t know. She hasn’t been calling.”

“And, I mean, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be at the con. She probably wants her anonymity.”

“Those are concerns for Mr. Lane.”

“You’re signing it?” Her eyes were round as she got to her feet with a record.

“You’re surprised?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. You always made the fame stuff seem beneath you.”

“Fame is pushing it,” I said. “Do you need help with that?” I asked when she looked down at the record player with pinched brows.

“I have never actually done this myself,” she admitted. “My grandfather was really into records, but I was forbidden from touching them. Apparently, my father once somehow ruined my grandpa’s favorite record, and it was a rule ever since.”

“I’ve never heard you speak of your family.”

“I guess because I don’t really have one anymore.”

“At all?”

“We were a small family. Both my parents were only children, and I was an only child. By high school, I lost both sets of grandparents. And then my mom when I was in college.”

“I’m sorry. Loss echoes,” I said, watching her give me a thoughtful look. “What about your father?”

To that, she sighed. Long. Not dramatic, but frustrated.