Seducing Sarah - Book 3: The Educator: Scott

by Ami LeCoeur

  Suddenly, I laughed. I realized I actually didn’t care what he thought of me. He was a jerk, and he was welcome to his cold, analytical world where he was the undisputed King. The King of Criticism.

  I leaned back against the seat with a heavy sigh, wondering if I’d ever get this dating thing right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Another Monday, another staff meeting. I’d done double duty on Sunday, running twice as far as I normally did. That helped with my mood but didn’t get rid of my disappointment.

  While it no longer bothered me personally, I was still in a bad mood as a result of the mess with Scott. I could almost justify digging into the platter of pastries in the center of the table. I snickered as I briefly wondered what Scott would make of that behavior. I cursed his name as I took a huge bite.

  Once again, I’d picked a winner. This one was a complete jerk, obsessed with his own inflated opinion of his supposed intellect, but that didn’t amount to much more than mental masturbation, really.

  As I thought about it, I told myself I should have known better. It was clear from the way he manipulated every setting. How many times had he picked me apart for no reason? He always tried to make it sound like it was some important issue and that he cared. For instance, when he’d told me how to dress for the book signing, only later to ask why my self-esteem was so low that I felt the need to dress up for the movies. Can you say contradiction of values?

  I shook my head. He’d continuously looked for ways to pick at me, to make me feel inferior. And then there were the comments at the theater. Plus his condescending attitude at the restaurant. I wondered why it was so important for him to feel superior. What was he hiding behind that smug exterior that he didn’t want the rest of the world to see?

  He had been smart enough not to try to call yet, and I wasn’t sure what I would do if and when he did. Or if I would even bother to talk with him after being treated like a disappointing child by a condescending creep.

  Yeah, well, good luck with your life, Mr. Manipulator.

  I had more important things to take care of, and I did my best to mentally shake off the disgust I felt just thinking about him. I shifted my focus to what my staff was discussing. Ralph, one of the older members of the marketing team, had a new idea that he wanted me to listen to.

  “For our Easter campaign, I was thinking of putting together a series of memes for Trina’s, the kid’s clothing store. Maybe something like, you know, a picture of a cute girl in an Easter dress, holding a bunny, along with a little blurb about the store and the website. We could promote them on social media and encourage their customers to share the images. They have a pretty solid following built up.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. We haven’t tried any social media campaigns yet. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that. I’m not even sure the store would see the ROI, and if they don’t get at least a decent return on their investment, we could lose them for the next campaign. I can’t think of any way to make sure it works either.”

  The room went silent for a moment, and Ralph’s face fell. He slumped slightly in his chair.

  Rhonda spoke up. “What if we made it about the customer? Maybe have a contest using kids who shop there?”

  “I don’t know. That could backfire.” I shrugged. “We can think about it, but maybe it’s best to just table that idea for the time being. At least until we can get some more metrics or figure out how to track our effectiveness.”

  My staff looked at each other for a moment, silent, eyes shifting, not saying a word. Then the conversation started up again, people talking over each other to break the awkwardness.

  I sat there, barely noticing the noise, tapping my pen on a legal pad, lost in my thoughts. Not thoughts of Scott, thank goodness, but thoughts about what my staff had proposed.

  We didn’t normally do things in social media—print media was our specialty. We usually left the social kind of thing up to our clients since they had the interaction and knew their customers better than we did in that respect. I wondered if we might end up competing for the same eyeballs.

  Plus, the newness of the idea made me a little uncomfortable. Normally, I wasn’t the sort of person to simply shut down new ideas. Otherwise, I’d never have built my business to this point. So why had I shot Ralph’s idea down so quickly, without giving him a chance to more fully develop or pursue it?

  Well, primarily because when it came to my business, I was a control freak, of course. Make that Control Freak, in capitals and neon blinking lights. I knew it, and I liked it. Without that, I’d never have been so successful. I knew this business inside and out. My agency was living proof of that.

  But I had to admit, the world was changing, and pretty quickly. While I’d dipped my toes into Facebook and Twitter, I had a long way to go to understand the business potential of those two, or the new-to-me things I’d only just heard of. Instagram, Pinterest, Snapchat, and lord knows what else had come along while I’d been slaving away with my nose to the proverbial grindstone, buried away from the world as the Control-Freak-Boss-Without-A-Life.

  Then it hit me.

  Oh, crap. I’m acting just like Scott. I remembered the way he categorized me dismissively as having low self-esteem. How he sat beside me, judging everybody while we were in the movie theater. And afterward, the way he complained about the movie, telling me it was unrealistic. The way he was convinced he knew what was best for everyone, thought he knew what everyone’s true motivations were, and was the sole judge and jury about what was appropriate and right.

  My stomach turned as I made that connection.

  I had judged Ralph’s idea without giving it a chance, all because I thought I knew best. I’d dismissed the idea as not being an option, without considering the power of social media and how a fresh take on an ordinary campaign could make a big difference.

  I glanced over at Ralph, feeling slightly guilty for not being more open to the merits of his idea. And hoped I hadn’t embarrassed him with my response in front of everyone. He was a highly competent staff member, doing what any good staffer does—trying to find a new and innovative idea that served both the client and my agency. He didn’t deserve to suffer because I was in a bad mood. In point of fact, he deserved a chance to lay out his plan. Then we could decide if it had merit, or if it might work, or not. But it wasn’t fair to dismiss it without fully considering it.

  I waited for a lull in the conversation, then cleared my throat.

  “I’ve been thinking about Ralph’s proposal and realize I was wrong to dismiss the idea without giving you a chance to develop it more. Why don’t we have you put some ideas together for a campaign using memes? We won’t have much time, so I want to see them by the next staff meeting. And Rhonda?” I looked to my assistant. “I need you to reach out to the client and pitch the idea. You and Ralph should get together to talk about how to sell it.”

  The room was quiet again. But this time, both Ralph and Rhonda looked thrilled.

  I knew I’d done the right thing. It felt right. I knew my staff would rise to the occasion. On the heels of that rode the relief of finally letting go of something I no longer needed to control so tightly. Hadn’t I been telling myself to loosen up? Besides, if I wanted to further my expansion ideas, then I would need my staff to step up to the next level anyway.

  Being a control freak had only made life more difficult, especially at this point in my career. The world wouldn’t end just because Rhonda was talking to the client instead of me. Instead, it would free me up for higher-level work, for the strategizing I was so good at.

  And wasn’t that what the CEO was supposed to focus on, anyway?

  Chapter Twelve

  Judging by my staff’s reaction, maybe this letting go of stuff was a pretty good idea. I’d certainly had my own fill of being told what was and wasn’t okay. And given what I’d been through recently, I wanted to be as different from Mr. Manipulator as I could be.

  I decided to go out
for lunch rather than ordering in, as I normally would have on a Monday after the staff meeting. Maybe it was simply the relief I felt after handing some of the work over to someone else. Or it could have just been a need to shake up my own life. So much had changed since I’d had my revelation that too much was passing me by, and I didn’t want to lose any more time.

  True, I still hadn’t found Mr. Right, or even Mr. Right Now. But after the weird crap I’d been through—in my past as well as my relative present—I had to have racked up some pretty good points.

  And while nothing had yielded the results I’d hoped for, yet, I wasn’t ready to give up. I was still hoping. In fact, in some strange way, I was looking forward to whatever or whoever was next. Maybe I was starting to get the hang of this modern-day dating thing. Or at least this modern-day having-a-life-outside-of-work thing.

  I only wished I had done it sooner. I was enjoying learning about myself, about what really made me tick. I hadn’t taken the time to even think much about it in years, not since I’d devoted all my energy and attention to the agency.

  Outside, the nice weather was holding, a hint of spring hanging, tantalizingly, in the air. I took a deep breath of the delicious, fresh scents around me and headed off to the deli down the block.

  After my staff meeting breakthrough, I’d decided it was a day for doing things differently. If this was the new me, I was determined to get used to her.

  The deli was busy, just as I’d expected it to be at that time of day. I looked around at the packed tables—maybe eating in the park would be a better idea. I reminded myself this was a day to be different, so what the heck, I’d take whatever happened as an opportunity, not a challenge.

  “Sarah?” I turned at the sound of my name and saw a vaguely familiar-looking woman waving to me from a table. She smiled and beckoned, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place her.

  Then, it hit me. It was the woman I’d met at Tammy’s brunch. The one with Scott. I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to be drawn into anything having to do with the man. But I also didn’t want to be rude, so once I placed my order, I went over to say hello while waiting. As soon as my name was called, I’d bail.

  “Join me, please,” she said, her eyes pleading, “I hate eating alone.”

  I almost said no, but the new me would welcome the chance to make a new friend, so I agreed. I tried to remember her name. Elizabeth? Emily?

  “Emma.” Her head snapped up when her order was ready. Thank God for that. Now I won’t have to ask her.

  We made casual small talk while eating, and I remembered she’d had a delightful sense of humor at the brunch. A few moments into our sandwiches, I sensed there was something she wanted to bring up but seemed to be waiting for the right moment.

  When she asked what I thought about Scott, I thought it was interesting that she referred to him only as “the guest speaker at the brunch.”

  Um, hm, just as I’d thought. Oh well, here goes nothing.

  “You mean Scott?” I said nonchalantly. “You must have heard I was seeing him?”

  She grinned. “I wouldn’t make a very good spy, would I?”

  I shook my head with a smile. “Not if you were trying to get secret information out of me. But, yeah, I went out with him a couple of times after the brunch.”

  She narrowed her eyes, bit her lip, and then looked down at her food. “So, uh, how’s it going?” she asked almost too casually, and it seemed as if she was being careful to keep her voice neutral.

  I didn’t want to talk about it—really didn’t want to talk about it. But after our last night together, I figured he was old news to me. Besides, I wondered why she was asking. After all, he’d introduced her as a friend at the party. For sure I didn’t want to find myself in the middle of anything sticky. Had they been dating also? Was she still into him?

  “Well,” I said, weighing my words as I tried my best to answer in a way that wouldn’t create problems for either one of us. “Actually, I think I’ve decided we’re not very well suited for each other. I’m not really his type.”

  She snorted, almost choking on her soda. After she got her breath back, she grinned at me. “Let me guess, Mr. College Professor is still over-analyzing everything, including you? Your dress, your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes. Even… even how you make love?”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. “How did you know?”

  She threw back her head and laughed a loud, hearty laugh that caught the attention of the people at the next table. Then she leaned forward, going into gossipy girlfriend mode, hands folded on the table and a gleam in her eye. “Welcome to the Club. He and I had a brief, sort-of-almost-a-fling while I was in college. So I actually know him pretty well. And he obviously hasn’t changed his ways.”

  “He’s always been like that, then?” This was one hell of a day for revelations—and relief, evidently. I shook my head. “I thought it was just me. It was as though everything was wrong with me. Amazing how quick I was to assume he knew best, at least at first, just because he was so educated in his field.”

  Me, who’d always thought I had it together, suddenly undermined by Mr. College Professor.

  “Oh, no, honey. He’s always been that way. It’s his thing.” She leaned back, taking a sip of her soda as she watched the emotions on my face.

  “He plays the big, important, smarter-than-God professor so he can intimidate and seduce his students. They’re all dazzled by him.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I should know. Anyway, he uses that to break the girls down until he can convince them to sleep with him. You know, making them feel like they should be grateful just to be with him. Then, when he gets tired of them, or sees what he thinks is a bigger prize, he uses that same manipulation to dump them by making them feel guilty—as though it’s their fault—as he pushes them away.”

  “Wow. Did he do that to you?”

  “No, he didn’t have the chance. I figured out his game. I saw through what he was doing and did the pushing away first. But we’ve stayed sorta friends over the years.”

  “How could you stay friends with him?” I took a bite of my sandwich, marveling that she had the wherewithal to recognize what was happening, and to be willing to remain friendly with someone I now considered a pariah, lower than pond scum.

  “Surprisingly, once all that psycho-sexual stuff is out of the way, he’s not really such a bad person. When he knows you see through him, he can stop playing Mr. Smart Guy. You know what I mean? It’s not like we’re close, but we’re friendly. He respects that I call him on his bullshit, I guess.”

  She took another sip of her soda, her face darkening for a moment. “I was luckier than some of my friends. They got too involved. When he pushed them away, it messed them up pretty badly for a while. Imagine, falling for someone you idolize, only to have them break your heart. And you think it’s all your fault because you’re too messed up for him.”

  “I can see why he preys on the young girls.” I sighed, grateful I’d gotten out relatively unharmed. “They are just way too gullible.”

  “Exactly. But I do have to thank him in more ways than one, though. He’s the reason I become interested in women’s issues—especially issues of self-esteem and abusive relationships. I was lucky, some of my friends were not. Those experiences led me to a career in counseling.” She took another sip.

  “And that got me involved with starting a nonprofit group here in town. We offer battered and abused women a safe place to stay after they leave their abusers. We even have facilities to temporarily house their children, if need be, until we can relocate the family to someplace safe.” She looked wistful. “Sometimes, it only takes one time, one person, to break down a woman’s confidence, to convince her she’s not good enough, and that can start an endless cycle of her trying to win approval at any cost. Suspending your own judgment can lead to some pretty bad situations.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said, shaking my head, grateful I’d grown up in a family that not onl
y supported my independence, but encouraged it. What I couldn’t imagine was what would cause anyone to need domination over others. It made me realize that Scott was no better than the bullies on the playground.

  “And that brings me to the other reason I hang around with Scott.” She grinned conspiratorially, brightening up a bit.

  “What’s that?” I asked, convinced by what she’d just told me that I personally never wanted to see the man again.

  “I’m a blocker, a shield. If I see him going after someone who doesn’t look like she can handle herself, I step in. Quietly. I’ll figure out a way to get her aside so I can clue her into his M.O.”

  I laughed. “Brilliant! Does it work?”

  “Not always,” she admitted. “Sometimes it makes him more attractive. Especially to those poor fools who think they can change a man if they try hard enough. But it’s worked enough times so far.”

  “Doesn’t he know what you’re doing?” I had to ask.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I don’t care. It’s too important to me. Besides, he’d likely think it was a challenge, anyway. To see who can out-game the gamer.”

  What a day. Here was one more thing for me to let go of.

  “Emma, thank you for giving me the heads up. And for doing the work you do. I was lucky, but it’s funny how even the strongest woman can second-guess herself when she’s up against a master manipulator. I’m glad you told me all this before he could do anything to really mess with my mind.”

  “Sarah, you’re not the kind of woman I’m worried about. You’re smart and successful, and you’d have figured him out eventually.”

  “Still,” I raised my glass of iced tea, tipping it towards her. “I salute you for your hard work and tenacity. And for helping me to burn that particular bridge behind me.”

  She raised her glass in return, nodding. “My pleasure, Sarah. May I welcome you to what we survivors call the Scott-Free Zone.”