That’s where my printed directions and maps came in. A quick glance over them gave me a heads-up for the journey, and I headed on my way. The day was beautiful, with the weather being not too hot yet. I was tempted to roll the windows down so I could enjoy the feeling of the summer air on my face as I zoomed around the backroads of the lush North Carolina greenery. But I had to remember my hair and that I didn’t want to show up at the interview looking a mess. I’d reward myself with the rolling the windows down on the way home if the interview went well, I promised myself.
Not wanting to even begin to risk being late, I’d left half an hour earlier than I really needed to. But I was glad for it when I ended up twisted around and showed up at the complex only fifteen minutes early.
A man in a small guardhouse at the gate directed me to the right parking lot and handed me access credentials. Finding the lot, I parked and stepped out of the car, taking a moment to smooth my skirt and take a few breaths to calm myself. I was excited about the possibilities that lay ahead and felt good about my chances. I was skilled at what I did and had done plenty of research into the company’s current social media presence. I was more than armed with a thorough and, if I did say so myself, an effective plan to demonstrate the potential for the platforms. But wanting it didn’t guarantee I’d land the position, so the nerves still created butterflies in my stomach.
When I felt ready, I grabbed my bag and headed in search of the location of my appointment. Minette “call me Minnie” Freeman was sweet and welcoming over the phone when I spoke to her, so I was looking forward to meeting her. I found the right office building and signed in at the front desk, offering a smile to the woman sitting there. She directed me to the waiting area, and I drew in another breath before taking a seat, wanting to look as calm and put together as I could when she arrived.
When she did, it was amidst a cloud of Chanel and in a summer dress with flip-flops. I suddenly felt extremely overdressed. Apparently, this wasn’t a business attire type of office. But I’d rather look too formal and professional than not professional enough, so I fell into step behind her with confidence. As we walked toward her office, I listened to Minnie go on and on about her family and the company. I already knew it was her oldest son, Quentin, who owned and ran the business, but she was the one who handled most of the hiring. He wasn’t exactly a people person.
Which was the ideal segue into her letting out a deep sigh as she dropped into the chair behind her desk and declared she knew Quentin, and the company, definitely needed my help.
“There is almost no social media presence on any of the platforms,” she confided. “And in 2020, that’s unheard of. I suppose I don’t really need to tell you that.”
I smiled politely and shook my head.
“No, you’re right. Social media is vital to business success in today’s marketplace. Consumers are more tech-savvy than ever and tend to glean most of their opinions about a business based on what they can find using an internet search. This means they are most likely to make decisions for their spending and brand loyalty based on the internet, most importantly social media. This is how they determine if a business fits with their personal interests and needs, if they feel they can relate to them and trust them, and also where they find information about them. It’s hard to gain interest or build up an audience when there is no way for them to know what you’re offering. That’s where social media comes in. And I’ll be honest. I did do some preliminary exploring of the current presence,” I said.
“And it wasn’t good,” Minnie concluded flatly.
I couldn’t help but laugh. This was a woman I could definitely see enjoying working with.
“Since you put it that way, no, it wasn’t,” I said with a smile. “But it could be. The good part about having next to no social media presence is that you have a fairly blank canvas to work with. Rather than having to try to undo mistakes and rebuild a reputation that has been damaged by bad social media, you can just build from the bottom up and create an impressive presence. That’s where I come in.” I reached down for my messenger bag and took out the plan I’d drafted. “I took the liberty of putting together a plan for the first few weeks and months of a new social media campaign for Freeman Racing. You can glance over it and see one direction we could go. Of course, this is only one approach, and there are many different options.”
Minnie took the file folder from me and opened it, spreading the papers out on the desk in front of her. It felt oddly exposing to have my work spread out like that in front of me. I knew what every word said and felt completely confident in what I put together, but somehow it made me feel vulnerable to watch her look over it like that. She nodded a few times, making sounds that could either be acknowledgement or her simply noting places she would want to make changes.
It took only a few minutes before she looked up at me and smiled.
“I have to say, I’m impressed. Your reputation is fantastic, of course, but I know you haven’t worked for any companies on quite the scale as this one. It would be a much larger project,” she said.
“Absolutely,” I admitted. “It would be far more extensive than anything I’ve ever had. But the scope of it means I would be able to focus completely on this campaign. You would have my absolute undivided attention, and I would create something customized exclusively for the flexible and changing needs of the company. Utilizing my skills means others in the company don’t have to try to keep up and can focus on the other elements of their jobs. My professional experience also means I would be able to broaden the targeted demographics and create more involvement among fans.”
Minnie nodded and I knew the job was mine. It took everything in me to not jump up and explode with excitement. She reached into a drawer in her desk and pulled out a contract that she slid across the desk to me.
“This is the initial contract,” she said. “If you would look over it and let me know if you have any questions or things you’d like to discuss.”
I wanted to just sign my name on the dotted line as fast as I possibly could, but that’s never good business practice. Instead, I forced myself to slow down and scan through the contract, reviewing all the terms and expectations. I was pleasantly surprised to see I didn’t even need to attempt to negotiate for better pay. The offer included in the contract was already exceptionally generous and far more than I would have made with any other client.
When I was finished, I smiled at her.
“Do you have a pen I could use?” I asked politely.
Minnie grinned at me and offered me a gold engraved pen that was filled with vibrant purple ink. I would expect nothing less of her. She watched me sign my name, then stood, extending her hand to me.
“Congratulations and welcome aboard. I look forward to working with you,” she said.
I let out a long breath, feeling my shoulders relax as I smiled.
“Thank you. I do, too,” I told her.
“You come on back on Monday. Quentin is taking his first vacation in a long while this week, but he’ll be back then,” she said.
“His first vacation?” I asked, tilting my head to the side with curiosity.
“Yes. That man refuses to take a break. He does nothing but work. Doesn’t even take the time to breathe half the time, I think. But his brothers, father, and I finally convinced him to take this week off so he could be rested up and have a good head on his shoulders when the race season starts up again,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, my smile slipping as I nodded, processing what she’d just told me about her son.
“Don’t worry,” Minnie said as if she could sense my nervousness to meet the man who would be my direct boss. “He might be an old curmudgeon before he earned the old, but he can be a softy, too. You’ll see. He’ll like you.”
We chatted for a few more minutes before I disengaged from the conversation and headed home to decompress. Just as I promised myself, I rolled down the windows and enjoyed the flow of the wind through my hair
as I drove. Just before getting home, I stopped for a celebratory bottle of wine and looked forward to a barefoot evening on the patio and a bubble bath.
3
Quentin
I still wasn’t completely convinced about the idea of taking regular vacations. It seemed like everywhere I looked, people were living the opposite schedule of life I would think was normal. Every other day they posted pictures of their most recent getaway, making it seem like most of their life was a vacation and they occasionally returned for a week or two of normalcy. Of course, I was on the extreme end of the spectrum in the opposite direction, according to my parents and brothers. I hadn’t taken a vacation since those camping trips of my youth. I just didn’t have the time for it. The trips dwindled down by the time I was in the later years of high school, and then when I was in college out of state, I didn’t make the trip back to join the few that popped up while Darren was growing up.
Life after college got far too crammed to fit in long stretches of doing nothing purely for the sake of doing nothing. I was too committed to putting as much work and effort into reaching my goals to purposely have long days of making no progress. It seemed to me if I wasn’t doing something it needed to be because of serious illness or grievous bodily harm. Considering the industry that I dedicated my life to, there was always the possibility of the latter, and the former was just something all humans needed to be prepared for in life. I would much rather keep grinding on the days when I could so if the need popped up to spend time out of commission, I didn’t feel like I was getting too far behind.
That’s why it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world for my family to finally convince me to take a vacation this past week. All of them were worried about the amount of stress I constantly put on myself and insisted I needed to take some time so my brain didn’t melt, or my heart didn’t stop, or any number of other needlessly graphic and overdramatic warnings they came up with each time they sat me down. I didn’t want to take the time off. Of course I was tired and had worked myself to the bone, but there was always more to do. Always more I could do. More success to be made. It felt strange to just say I would willingly not do any of it. It finally took my mother looking legitimately worried and my brother’s promising they would make a bunch of extra work for me when I did go back so I felt productive that they convinced me to take the vacation.
I’ll admit it was kind of nice to not have to wake up before the sun. Not that I stayed in bed for terribly much longer than that on any given morning. It was hard-wired into me to start the day too early and end it too late. But there was a certain amount of luxury in opening my eyes and knowing I didn’t actually have to get out of bed at that exact moment. I could stretch out and just lie there. I could roll over and watch TV for as long as I felt like, stuffing snacks in my mouth and drinking too much soda.
There was also an appeal to being able to roam around the house in my boxers, float around in the pool, and actually use the backyard I so often stared at longingly through the window when I was in my home office working. But there was also the pressing feeling I was missing something. I kept wondering what was going on at the office or what everyone was doing. I called up there so many times Glenda, the receptionist, redirected my number to my mother, who promptly blocked it.
That didn’t seem like the best way to treat the head of the company, but, as she crisply informed me when I circumvented her block by using my landline, mother trumps CEO. At least in most situations.
So, I relented and did my prescribed time. But it was finally my first day back at the Freeman Racing complex… and there was a woman in my office I had never seen before.
I stood several feet away from the chair where she was sitting, staring at her and flipping through the Rolodex of my mind to try to identify her. Maybe she was someone I’d met at one of the many events I went to each season. Could she be the daughter of one of the drivers? Of one of my competitors? Of a vendor? Could she be the vendor herself? A reporter? None of the options rolling through my mind made anything click. When I’d first arrived at the complex that morning, the guard didn’t say anything about a new employee, so that wasn’t any help.
What also wasn’t any help was I couldn’t get my eyes off her. She wasn’t just unfamiliar, she was gorgeous. Dark hair hung like mahogany in a loose knot at the back of her neck, her skin was smooth and creamy, and when she stood up, her sundress clung to lush, unapologetic curves. When she glanced up and noticed I was standing there, huge almond eyes and a bright smile completed the package of essentially my ideal woman. Never in my career had I had any difficulty keeping things professional, but this woman might just be enough to attempt me.
She took a step toward me and reached out her hand.
“Hi,” she said. “You must be Mr. Freeman. I’m Merry. I’m here to make you social.”
I shook her hand, but I wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about. Social? My mind was starting to traipse down the ridiculous path of wondering if one of my parents had hired an actress from a local community theater to pretend to be my girlfriend and desensitize me to the concept when I remembered. Mom had talked about hiring a social media consultant to get me on my game. Nodding, I released her hand and walked around to sit across from her.
“Right. The social media consultant,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered, settling back into the chair. “It’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you, Mr. Freeman.”
She was probably ten years younger than me, which made me sound even older when she called me “Mr. Freeman.” I’d been lying if I said it didn’t turn me on at least a little, but I needed to bring it back down to the usual level of my office.
“Call me Quentin,” I instructed. “What do you need from me, Merry?”
I folded my hands on the desk in front of me and stared at her, waiting for her to explain why I got to work that morning to find her already waiting in my office. People getting a jump on me when it came to starting my day wasn’t something I was a big fan of in any circumstances, but when that person was a young, sexy woman who I could see proving a distraction, I was particularly not a fan.
“As you probably already know, your mother hired me last week. I got here early this morning so I could hit the ground running. She showed me my office and has given me access to the accounts so I can start working on them. I don’t know how much she told you about our interview and the plans I’ve already laid out…”
“None,” I said, cutting her off. “I was on vacation last week, and she hasn’t told me anything about you other than that she was looking into hiring a social media consultant.”
A stung expression flickered briefly over Merry’s eyes, but she quickly rebounded.
“No problem. I brought along the plans I put together if you want to look over them,” she said.
I nodded and she pulled a file out of a messenger bag at her feet. Glancing over the pages, I listened as she rattled off essentially what I was reading. She threw around terms like ‘scheduled posting’ and ‘click-through,’ while making the fans of my company sound like a bunch of tokens she was trying to collect. I would be the first to admit social media was not my thing, and I probably didn’t understand everything she was trying to get across to me just because it wasn’t something I much cared about. So, I let her talk right until she mentioned going around the complex taking pictures.
Merry stopped short when she saw me hold up my hand and shake my head.
“No,” I told her.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“No,” I repeated. “I’m not going to grant you free access to the complex so you can go around taking pictures for who knows what use.”
She gave me a slightly condescending look.
“The use is to post on your various platforms to give followers a glimpse into the company. You want to seem like more than just a facade. Letting them see more behind the scenes, people who work here, the pond, the test tracks… it makes them feel more like they
are a part of something rather than just drooling fans,” she told me. “The more invested they feel, the more money they’ll spend.”
Her tongue ran briefly over her nude-painted lips, and I had to force myself not to stare at them, to keep my attention on the conversation at hand.
“You need to understand there is proprietary information you can’t share. There are things throughout this complex that aren’t just openly offered up for the public, and can’t be shared with my competitors,” I told her.
Merry shifted in her seat, and the look on her face melted into a smile that said she thought I was an idiot.
“Yes, I understand that,” she said, her voice noticeably slowing. “I do know how to do my job.” She stood up. “Thank you for meeting with me this morning.”
“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice,” I said, standing and giving her a tight smile.
She gathered the papers on my desk and shoved them back into her messenger bag, tossing it over her shoulder.
“There are some other people Minnie mentioned she would like me to meet, and then I need to get started. Your presence needs a tremendous amount of work and improvement. I’ve got my work cut out for me,” she said.
I watched her leave, noting the sway of her hips as she walked, and wondered how in fresh hell this was going to work. Merry didn’t choose her words lightly, and the way she threw my mother’s name out there was like drawing a line in the sand. She wanted to make sure I knew she was already familiar with my mother and they were on the same team, like she had gotten Mom’s approval, so she wasn’t as concerned with what I thought of her. So not only was she beautiful, confident, and sexy, making it hard enough to think about working around her, but she talked to me like I was disconnected from the world and had an attitude about it. This was going to be delightful.
Millionaire Boss: A Secret Baby Romance (Freeman Brothers Book 1) Page 2