I also didn’t share with her any of the less than professional thoughts she made course through my head. That was the most difficult part of it.
“Maybe I wasn’t the most welcoming of new bosses,” I relented, “but even you have to admit it’s a bit annoying she went and pouted to my mother. That’s not exactly professional.”
“She didn’t come pouting to me,” Mom corrected. “I saw her immediately after her meeting with you, and she didn’t look very happy. But she said you were just fine. I didn’t hear anything different until she was talking on the phone over lunch and I overheard how you spoke to her.”
Of course, that did exactly what my mother wanted it to. It made me feel guilty. Indignation would almost be justified if she had gone and whined to my mother about me. Knowing she had tried to be nice about me, but my mother had heard her talking just made me feel worse.
“I will do my best to be nice or at least not too hard,” I promise. “And if I get a chance, I’ll apologize for whatever I may have done that upset her. But you do have to understand I was just trying to protect my company.”
“You don’t need to protect your company from a woman who’s trying to drag you kicking and screaming into the new century,” she said.
“Funny hearing that from my mother,” I pointed out.
“Funny isn’t exactly the word I would use,” she said. “Something for you to contemplate.”
She turned around with a sharp flip of her hair and stalked back to the office building. I couldn’t help but laugh. Even when Mom was angry and tough, she managed to amuse me. She was the definition of feisty, and the fact that her marriage to my father had lasted as long as it had was a testament to the characters of both of them. And to the possibility that real love could exist.
I went back to work, determined to bury myself and all the paperwork and messages I had skipped during my vacation, but my mind was elsewhere. Mom’s lecture had gotten to me. And quite possibly so had Merry’s enormous eyes and sexy smile. For the rest of the day, I ended up spending entirely too much time worrying about how I was going to make it up to the new social media darling.
Those thoughts were still distracting me from getting as much done as I wanted to, and soon nearly everyone else had left the complex. It wasn’t uncommon for me to still be working when everybody else was gone and most of the buildings were dark. But that night I was lost in my thoughts and couldn’t seem to figure out what to do next. I still hadn’t come up with any way to apologize and make my new employee feel better when my brother Vince made the decision about the end of the day for me.
Coming into my office with a giant bag of takeout, he effectively brought my workday to a close.
“Thought I’d find you here,” he said. “You’ve got to pry yourself away from the desk. I know you and I lost a lot of quality time together while you were on vacation, but you can’t try to fit it all back in by just staying there overnight,” he teased.
“Shut up,” I said. “What did you bring?”
“Chicken,” he said.
The lights were still on over the patio out back, and the temperature was warm and comfortable, so we brought the food outside rather than settling into the breakroom. He spread out what looked like enough food for about five people. Which meant it was going to be just enough for the two of us. We dove into the fried chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and corn, and talked about the upcoming race season. This was always an exciting time of the year. A fresh season of races stretched in front of us, and everything was electric with possibility and potential. I pointedly didn’t mention Merry, even when Vince seemed to try to guide the conversation in that direction and looked at me like he was there for gossip. I wasn’t going to take the bait.
6
Merry
Merry’s log. Star date… I didn’t know. What did that really mean, anyway? Despite my grandmother’s deep devotion to Star Trek in all its various iterations, it didn’t rub off on me. I might have inherited more of my features and characteristics from her than any other member of my family, but that particular fandom didn’t come along with my almond eyes or the weird way my thumbs bent backward. Or the pissed-off determination my grandmother would have referred to as grit but everybody else knows was just stubbornness. Whatever it was and for whatever reason I had it, it was what fueled me the morning of my third day of working for Freeman Racing.
My interaction with Quentin was still bothering me. After all, he wasn’t even the one who hired me. He didn’t really have any place preemptively evaluating my quality of work or the value of my contribution to his company. Obviously, other people who worked for him, including his mother and brother, believed he was in need of my professional services. So, he should have just accepted their input, respected my qualifications, and given me the space to do my job without already assigning me failures.
Of course, that was also a fairly ridiculous way to look at it. Regardless of who hired me or who within the company thought my skills were going to be beneficial to the company and its success, Quentin owned the company and was the one who ran it. His opinion was actually the only one that really mattered when it came right down to it. He had the ability to decide I wasn’t doing well enough or that he didn’t need me and just kick me to the curb. I wasn’t going to let that happen. As much because I wanted the job and the security that came along with it, his arrogance and assumptions about me made me angry. I didn’t like the way he’d treated me from the very beginning and especially didn’t like the thought of him just going about his life continuing to think that way. He seemed like one of those people who floated around at the top of every situation he ever encountered. No matter what, if there was a food chain, he was at the head of it and he was comfortable with that.
But I was going to prove him wrong. No matter what I needed to do, I was going to show him his assumptions about me were far off base. Not only was I very good at what I did, but I was going to take that expertise and those skills and use them to whip his company’s image into shape. Once he saw what a difference good social media could make, he wouldn’t make hair-trigger assumptions about anybody else again. At least not about me.
Before heading into the office, I took a few minutes to go back over all the work I’d compiled the day before. After spending my first day at the complex exploring and getting familiar with the buildings and the people who worked in them, I devoted the next day to creating content plans and schedules. Managing the presence of such a large, dynamic company wasn’t as easy as just occasionally throwing a picture up or sharing posts made by fans. It didn’t take much digging through the accounts Minnie gave me access to for me at to realize just how extensive the reach of the company was, and how many angles I would have to use to approach the communities that made up the fans.
Rather than just one type of person or one type of fandom, I needed to familiarize myself with the various different people who enjoyed bike racing. From the people who loved the adrenaline and competition of the races themselves, to those more interested in the machines, to the ones who poised themselves as devotees of the riders, there were different fans to appeal to on each platform. There was also the need to reach out to similar-minded people who might become fans of racing simply by being exposed to it.
Add in needing to share schedules for races, build up interest in special events, put out feelers for securing appearances, court potential sponsors, and stimulate revenue streams through exposure to available merchandise, and it was a tremendous undertaking. But one I was ready and willing to do. I had the plans for the next few weeks sketched out along with longer-term projections. I had gone through all the pictures I’d taken on my first day, selected my favorites, and edited them. I had even invested in a large whiteboard I set up in my apartment which I added appropriate hashtags to every time one popped into my head.
I had arms full of materials and a point to make. This was my job, and I wasn’t letting him shake me.
The drive from m
y apartment to the complex was long enough to let me get pumped up for the coming confrontation. Now that I was aware I didn’t have to maintain a formal business appearance when I was in the office, I’d thrown my hair up into a ponytail, slipped on my favorite pair of sunglasses, and had the windows rolled down. It was fortunate the majority of the drive happened along back roads because houses I drove by probably wouldn’t be appreciative of the music blaring from my speakers. But the songs energized me and got me ready to make my presentation to Quentin. If he wasn’t going to take my word for what I could do, he was going to see the evidence for himself.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot and turned down the music in response to the glare from the guard, I felt ready to face off against the fearless leader of Freeman Racing and secure my spot once and for all. What I wasn’t prepared for was the man I actually encountered that morning. I went first to my office so I could drop off what I didn’t need for the presentation and get my hair under control before going to his office. Before I could do so, Quentin showed up at my doorway.
He carried with him a cup of coffee and a forced smile, and I tilted my head to the side to look at him, evaluating what exactly was happening.
“May I come in?” he finally asked.
I snapped back into reality and nodded, waving him in.
“Yeah. Sure. Sorry. Of course, come in,” I stumbled.
Damn. That was not the impression I wanted to give this morning. The wind in my face and loud music was supposed to make me steady and driven, not stumbling and confused.
Quentin came into the office and turned to close the door behind him. I stood in front of my desk, squared off to him, waiting for whatever was going to come.
“I wanted to apologize for my attitude the other day,” he said. “That wasn’t the way I should have spoken to you, especially the first time we were meeting. It wasn’t fair of me to make assumptions about you, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’ll be the first to admit social media isn’t really my thing. You could probably tell that just by looking at the accounts for the company. I’ve even tried with my own personal accounts, and I think I might be better at those than I am with the business ones. Probably because I don’t have to try to really appeal to anybody. Nobody looks at them but my family, so it’s just pictures and things.”
I nodded. “That’s pretty much how it goes for most people. Personal accounts are easier because you usually don’t have to impress people. You’re not trying to sell yourself. Hopefully. I mean, I don’t really know you. That could be your thing. Trying not to make assumptions.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “No. You can assume that all you want. But, like I said, I wasn’t really sure what it was all about when my mother suggested I hire a social media consultant. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even know that was a thing. So, I’m sorry if I came across however I came across. You do your thing, and I promise I’m not going to get in your way. And I’ll help you when I can. Just let me know if there’s something you need, and I’ll figure it out for you.”
I should have responded. There should have been words that came out and continued the conversation, or at least acknowledged what he said. But nothing seemed to be forming in my brain. I stood there just trying to take it all in, processing what just happened. When the words did come, I had to swallow them down and stop myself from gloating about him showing up and all but groveling in front of me. Instead, I nodded. He stared at me for a second, determined that was all he was going to get from me, and took a step closer to hand me the coffee. I mumbled something that might have been a ‘thank you’ when I took it, and he offered another tight smile.
When he was gone, I took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. How did he possibly do that? Staring at the door to my office didn’t answer any of my questions, but it gave me a chance to distract myself. After a few seconds, I put the cup down on my desk and dug around in my purse until I found my phone.
Finally, I pulled it out along with one of the granola bars and dropped down into my desk chair. Peeling open the bar and taking a bite, I opened my phone and rattled off a text to my brother. He wasn’t going to believe this. For the last two days he’d been listening to me complain about Quentin and building myself up for an epic showdown today. He’d been supportive and reassuring with just enough big-brother protectiveness to make me feel better about the situation. I was glad to be able to tell him things were looking up and he didn’t need to worry so much about me.
Sitting at my desk and enjoying my coffee while I scrolled through the news and checked a few of my favorite fluff sites was a reward for coming out on top of the confrontation. Even if there wasn’t really a confrontation. That was just a technicality. He’d shown up with a peace offering and apologized.
I totally won.
After my brief celebration, I set the empty coffee cup aside and dove into work. There was a lot to be done even with the elimination of my presentation. The whiteboard would still be beneficial even if I didn’t haul it into Quentin’s office. Taking out my schedule and prepared content, I posted the first tweets and Instagram posts. Only a few seconds later I noticed they already had likes. When I took a glance at the name on the account that gave the likes, I was glad I wasn’t still drinking the coffee. My laugh at seeing they were both from Quentin’s personal account definitely wouldn’t have kept it in my mouth.
7
Quentin
I had always been extremely protective of my company. Saying I was successful and that running the racing company had been my dream my whole life would be a massive understatement. Ever since I was very young, I’d envisioned my future and known I wanted more than just a mediocre life. Not that my family was mediocre or that they didn’t put me on a path toward anything more than that. Quite the opposite. My parents are quite possibly the most supportive two human beings to have ever been put on Earth. They always did everything they could to make the four of us feel like we could do everything and anything we wanted. For me, that meant chasing success.
From the time I was about nine or ten, my focus had been zeroed in on bike racing. I’d always been in love with the sport. The power and beauty of the machines. The thrill and adrenaline of watching a race. The constant energy and drive to get better. It was something I knew I wanted to be a part of, and my sights were set on not only doing it but being successful at it. That meant after I achieved it, I didn’t want anything to happen that might threaten it.
That included having new people around. Over the years my team had grown from just my family to including several other people, but each of them had gone through a period when I had to get to know them, get accustomed to having them around. In some cases, it took months for me to feel really used to having them there and comfortable with having them be a part of various aspects of the company.
Somehow it wasn’t like that with Merry. Very quickly, I settled into a routine with her. It only took a few days after that fairly disastrous first meeting when my defensiveness reared its head in a very big way for me to be used to her being around. My daily routine and habits even adapted to her being around without me realizing it. It wasn’t until the middle of her second week that I really caught myself adjusting my usual schedule because of her.
I was sitting in my office, eating lunch at my desk as I frequently did, and pulled up the company’s Twitter on my phone. As I ate, I scrolled through what she had done and clicked the heart icon beneath the newest post. Then I went through the pictures she took and retweeted them. They were images of the complex, and I was damn proud of them. But after I did it, I realized just how out of character that was. Not only had I willingly and purposely hit a little heart icon, something I’d only done the day I apologized to her so she would see I was engaging with what she was doing, but I crossed my platforms.
My personal social media was rarely used except to check in with old friends. They were used to not seeing new posts from me and getting only the occasional brie
f comment or response from me. But there I was, retweeting images of the complex she took. It came as a surprise to me, considering it wasn’t exactly a secret how I felt about social media in general.
Despite those personal feelings, I’d learned to appreciate, at least to a degree, that social media was important for my company. It was the way of the future. Well, actually, according to Darren, it was the way of the future ten years ago, which meant it was the way of the past and the current, but I was catching up.
I had gotten used to having Merry as part of the company but rarely actually saw her. Except for in passing, we didn’t see each other during the day. But I figured that was actually a benefit during this early time in us working together. The less frequently I saw her, the less chance I had to stick my foot in my mouth again. And the less time I had to spend training my brain to stay professional.
That day, however, I knew I had to break the routine and personally go to talk to her. The first race was coming up quickly, and I assumed she would want to feature it heavily in upcoming posts. I wanted to find out how much help she would need from me to get the pictures and information needed to make the posts as effective as possible. And I wanted that conversation to happen with me. She and Darren were getting pretty chummy. Several of the times I caught a glimpse of her over the last week she was right there along with my youngest brother, talking and laughing, seeming completely comfortable and at ease with him. And I hated to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with me.
While it might have been easier for me to just let him handle the conversation with her about the social media campaigns, there was no way I was going to let that happen. She was hired for my company and was creating these campaigns for me, not him. I wanted to be the one to work with her, to get that chance to interact with her. In the back of my mind, I knew that reaction was ridiculous. There was no reason I should be even thinking about how much time she was spending with my brother or what they were talking about. It shouldn’t matter to me how she was getting to know the others in the company. If I was going to think about her relationships with other people in the complex at all, I should be happy she was making friends and feeling at ease. A happy employee was a productive and loyal employee.
Millionaire Boss: A Secret Baby Romance (Freeman Brothers Book 1) Page 4