I'd been on the verge of telling him he could fuck off. And if I were alone, I would've. But I wanted Mina to play her part, which meant that I'd be wise to keep the locker room talk to a minimum.
After all, she was going to spend the next few months telling everyone that I was one heck of a nice guy.
No need to make her a liar just yet.
In the open doorway, Mason said, "Fine. But if you don't show in ten, I'll be back." And with that, he turned and walked away, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
Knowing Mason, he'd be back in nine. But it didn't matter.
My meeting with Mina was on the verge of ending, anyway. I walked to the door and shut it myself. And then, I returned to my desk, where I spent the next ten minutes explaining to Mina what I expected for my money.
I didn't sugar-coat it either, because the last thing I wanted was for her to get caught flat-footed down the road.
In a couple of months, she'd be in the spotlight, and she needed to be ready.
And me? I needed to lay the groundwork.
The first step? Getting Mina to sign on the dotted line – or more accurately, two dotted lines.
Chapter 31
Mina
On the phone, my sister said, "So…what was it?"
I was sitting in my car, parked on the same street where I'd parked yesterday. My meeting with Chase had ended only fifteen minutes ago, and my head was still spinning.
I'd spent five of those minutes – all of them inside my car – giving Natalie a quick rundown of what I'd just learned.
In reply to her question, I said, "What was what?"
"The catch," she said. "You never told me what it was."
I winced. "I know, and there's a reason for that."
"Which is…?"
"I signed a non-disclosure."
"You mean this morning?" She sounded surprised.
I'd been surprised, too. Near the end of the meeting, Chase had pulled the document from his desk and told me that I needed to sign on the dotted line before we could proceed any further.
When I'd asked why, he'd explained that we'd be discussing some sensitive issues that weren't meant for public consumption.
And boy, had that gotten my attention.
To my sister, I said, "Yeah, I had to sign it before he'd tell me the catch."
"Seriously?" She hesitated. "So, this catch…it must've been pretty awful then?"
Actually, it wasn't.
Not really.
But I was dying for a second opinion. "First, I've got to ask you something."
"Sure, what?"
"Well, you know how you're studying to become a psychologist?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I be your first client?"
Natalie laughed. "Oh, come on. Be serious."
"I am," I insisted. "I'll pay you and everything."
"You don't need to pay me," she said. "You've been my psychologist for years."
I knew what she meant. Natalie and I had always been close. She wasn't just my sister. She was my best friend – and the person I went to whenever I needed advice.
"But just listen," I said. "If you're my therapist, I can tell you anything, right?"
"I'm your sister," she reminded me. "You can tell me anything, anyway."
"I know. But with the non-disclosure, isn't there some sort of code of ethics where if I tell you something as my therapist, it's like telling a priest or maybe a lawyer?"
"Maybe," she said. "But even if there is a code, I'm not a therapist yet."
I tried to smile. "Oh come on, Nat. Work with me here."
"Alright, fine," she laughed. "I dub thee my first client. But I wouldn't blab anyway. You know that, right?"
"Sure, but I'm just trying to stick with the rules, you know?"
"Then consider them stuck. Now come on," she urged. "Tell me."
"Alright." I paused to collect my thoughts. "The thing is, Chase has this ex-girlfriend—"
"Just one?"
"Yeah, no kidding," I said. "He didn't even call her his girlfriend. He just said she was someone he'd dated for a while. Anyway, she apparently wrote this book where she makes him sound like a total monster."
"And he told you this himself?"
"Sort of. But he didn't use the word 'monster.' He just said the book wasn't flattering."
"Did he go into any detail?"
"Not personally," I said. "But he did show me a printout of the back cover."
"And…?"
"Apparently, Chase Blastoviak is a lying, cheating dirtbag."
Natalie laughed. "He's too pretty to be a dirtbag. Now, if she'd called him a cad, I could see it."
Funny, I could, too.
Cads were dangerous in a different way. They were charming and sexy, except when they were being total jerks.
I told Natalie, "And there's more. The way it sounds, their relationship was pretty rocky."
"Yeah, no doubt, with all the cheating."
"And fighting."
"What are you saying? That he was abusive?"
Technically, I wasn't saying anything. I was only repeating what I'd read on the back cover. "I don't think so. The blurb on the back mentioned screaming matches, but honestly, I can't see it."
"Why not?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "I guess he doesn’t strike me as a screamer. Or even a yeller." He did, however, strike me as exactly the kind of person who'd make other people lose it on a regular basis, but that was hardly the same thing.
Natalie asked, "But what about the cheating?"
I grimaced. "Now that I could see." I knew Chase's type all too well. He was the kind of guy who'd never settle down. Probably, he'd be playing the field forever, even if he were in a serious relationship.
On the phone, Natalie said, "And I know how you feel about that."
She was right.
I hated cheaters.
It wasn't only because Bryce had cheated on me with Emory. It was the whole concept. I was a loyal person, and I expected others to be loyal, too – even during a rough patch.
The truth was, Bryce and I had been having problems even before he'd cheated. That's why he'd come home for Spring break, so we could figure things out.
Instead, he'd spent most of his break figuring out how many ways he could bang Emory on the beach.
But I didn't want to think about Bryce. He was ancient history, even if he had taught me a serious lesson about pretty boys.
They were not to be trusted.
On the phone my sister said, "Just double-checking, have you told me the catch yet? Or are you still getting to it?"
"I'm getting to it now," I said. "In the meeting, he tells me that the book is going to hit in a few months – right in the middle of festival season – and he wants to know if I've got the stomach for it."
"The stomach for what?"
"To stick it out when things get rough."
"But wait, why would they get rough for you?"
"Because," I said, "he wants me to serve as the campaign's goodwill ambassador."
"Really? And what's that?"
"That's what I asked."
"And…?"
"And he tells me that if I want the commission, I'll need to play a public role in the campaign."
"How public?"
"Very public," I said. "Apparently, I'd be the official spokesperson, you know, for media interviews and whatever else comes up."
"Wow. "
"Wow is right," I said. "But there's got to be a catch. Don't you think?"
"Yeah, but you already know it."
"The book thing?" I sighed. "I dunno…I can't shake the feeling there's something else."
"Why?"
"Just some stuff he said this morning. Like get this. He told me that he expects my loyalty up-front – and all the way to the end."
"What kind of loyalty?"
"Well, for starters, I had to agree not to badmouth him to the press. From now on, I can only say positive things �
� not just about Blast Tools, but also about him personally. He even put it in the contract."
"You mean the nondisclosure?"
"No," I said. "The actual contract – meaning the agreement between me and Blast Tools." I bit my lip. "I already signed it."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah." I gave a nervous laugh. "I signed it so fast, it was actually kind of embarrassing. But the deal was so good, I was worried he'd change his mind."
"But…you don't think it's good anymore?"
"Yeah, but it's too good. And that's the problem."
"Why?"
"Because it feels like a trap. Or a trick. Or something."
Natalie laughed. "You wanna know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're nuts."
"You mean for accepting it?"
"No, for second-guessing it. It sounds like a terrific opportunity. And the money – it's seriously huge."
"I know. And don't you think that's a red flag?"
"No. I think you're worth every penny."
At this, I couldn’t help but smile. "You're just saying that because you're my sister."
"I am not," she said. "And forget the money. This job – or gig, or whatever you want to call it – it's in your field, too."
She was right. My degree was in public relations, after all.
On the phone, Natalie continued. "And it'll be a great springboard for your job search."
I winced. "I know."
"So why aren't you happy?"
"Because," I said, "he's up to something. I just know it."
"Or maybe you're just too suspicious for your own good."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Look," she said. "He told you in advance about the book thing, right?"
"Yeah?"
"So it seems to me, he's being pretty darn honest."
Chase Blastoviak? Honest?
I couldn’t help but scoff. "Yeah, right.
"And you wanna know why you're suspicious?"
"Why?"
"Because you haven't trusted any guy since Bryce."
"That's not true," I protested.
"Alright, fine," she said. "You haven't trusted any hot guy since Bryce."
Well, there was that. Still, I felt compelled to say, "Yeah, but this is different. This is a business thing, not a romance thing."
"But it's still a relationship thing," she said. "Now, as your 'therapist,' can I give you some advice?"
"Yeah, definitely."
"Just enjoy it," she said. "If you already signed, there's no going back now."
Chapter 32
Chase
Mason gave me a look. "Are you fucking crazy?"
The three of us – him, me, and Brody – were sitting around the conference table in Mason's office, where I'd just outlined my plans for offsetting the book's negative publicity.
From the chair next to me, Brody said, "If he isn't, she is."
I turned to look. "What?"
"The chick you just hired," he said. "Mina Lipinski – she's the crazy one, right?"
I hadn't hired her. I'd set her up as an independent contractor.
Big difference.
As far as the crazy bit, I didn't need the reminder, even more so because late last night, I'd gotten the results of Mina's background check. Turns out, she had a degree in public relations and some good experience, too.
After graduating with honors, she'd spent two years doing community outreach for Farmland Financial before the bank was swallowed up by a much larger competitor. As far as the barista thing, I could only guess that she'd taken the job as a stopgap while searching for something full-time.
Regardless, it wasn't the resumé of a lunatic.
To Brody, I said, "You've got the right person, but she's not as crazy as I thought."
Brody laughed. "You sure? Wasn't she the one crawling on her car?" He looked to Mason and explained, "Yesterday, we spotted her from his office window. Craziest thing you ever saw."
I was still looking at Brody. Thanks, buddy.
He was exaggerating, too. It wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever seen. Shit, it probably wouldn't make the top hundred.
My brothers and I had grown up rough. Even as kids, we'd seen some pretty messed-up shit. In the big scheme of things, someone crawling on their car was nothing.
I reminded Brody, "She wasn't doing it for fun. She was locked out, as I already told you."
He grinned. "Sorry. I must've forgot."
Yeah, right. He didn't forget anything. He was loving this.
I wasn't.
And apparently, neither was Mason. From the other side of the table, he said, "I don't care who's involved. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard."
"Oh yeah?" I shot back. "Dumber than the show?"
When his only reply was a stony look, I added, "You remember Blast, right? The cable show you also called crazy?"
It was a long time ago, but I remembered it like yesterday.
The three of us had pooled our resources to purchase a local tool-and-die shop, where we'd begun crafting our own brand of tools. We'd been working our asses off but were having a hard time staying afloat – not because we didn't make quality products, but because the market was already saturated.
Our tools were some of the best in the business. But we were a small-town operation trying to go big during a construction slump. Going big required publicity, which required money – money we didn't have.
And yet, we'd eventually gotten plenty of both – the publicity first, and the money second, thanks to me and my brainchild.
Blast.
The show had changed everything, as I'd known it would.
Thanks to the resulting publicity – and the fact we made damn good products – Blast Tools had gained two decades of growth in only a few years.
These days, we kept the buzz going with smart social media campaigns and just enough drama to keep things interesting.
But this was no time to be complacent. In Mason's office, I gave both of my brothers a long, impartial look.
In spite of our differences, the three of us made one hell of a team. Mason kept the company running, Brody kept Blast going strong on the construction side, and I made sure we remained on top as far as visibility and market share.
It's true that not all of my ideas were home runs, but my batting average was pretty damn impressive.
Across from me, Mason still hadn't replied to my question on whether or not he remembered the show. But it didn't matter.
The question had been rhetorical, and Mason was being Mason.
It was one of the reasons we'd divided up the responsibilities in the first place. When it came to marketing and promotion, I had the final say, period.
I told him, "I don't need your blessing. You remember that, right?"
He frowned. "So why are we here?"
Next to me, Brody said, "I know why I'm here."
Mason asked, "Why's that?"
Brody grinned. "To keep you and Chase from killing each other."
Mason and I shared a long silent look. In that moment, we were in total agreement. Brody was enjoying this a little too much.
It was easy to guess why. During last year's season of Blast, Mason and I had given Brody enough shit to fill an outhouse. Apparently, he was looking to shovel some of it back.
Mason eyed Brody across the conference table. "Shouldn’t you be in Colorado?"
Brody was still grinning. "Not according to your fiancée."
At that word, fiancée, Mason's eyes softened in a way that made me want grab the nearest trashcan and hurl up my breakfast – except I hadn't eaten and I wasn't the queasy type.
Still, it was the principle of the thing.
When I looked back to Brody, he had that same look.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
It was time to get back to business.
"Listen," I said. "The festival thing, it's a good, wholesome look. It'll be the perfect thi
ng to get people focused on something else."
Brody said, "You mean on someone else, meaning the crazy chick."
I felt my jaw clench. She had a name.
Mina.
And sure, I'd called her crazy. Multiple times. But I didn't like Brody doing it, especially when he was the one who'd inspired my latest brainstorm.
Last year, millions of fans had eaten up the drama between him and Arden, even in spite of the truth. They'd hated each other.
Until they didn't.
The whole thing had started back in high school, when they'd been hardcore enemies. Their animosity had carried over into the construction project and had made things more complicated than they'd needed to be.
But that wouldn't be me.
I had no history with Mina Lipinski.
I wasn't planning to get one either. Sure, I might give her a glance or two to get the audience thinking. But that's where it would end.
I finished the meeting by explaining to both of my brothers that if they were smart, they'd make Mina feel warm and welcome – not because I was going soft, but because she seemed like an honest person.
If she hated us, she'd have a hard time hiding it. And the goal was to generate positive publicity, not the other kind.
After saying my piece, I stood and wandered over to Mason's window. As I moved, I tossed a final warning over my shoulder. "And remember, no talk of her being crazy."
That last word – crazy – was still hanging in the air when I happened to glance out the window. Once again, I spotted Mina on the street below. Today, she'd parked maybe a block away from where she'd parked yesterday.
I frowned. Yesterday, she'd been crawling on her car.
She wasn't crawling today.
But that didn't mean she was acting normal.
I turned and looked back to my brothers. At something in my expression, Brody pushed back his chair and stood.
Shit.
Already, he was heading toward me – or more accurately, toward the window.
When he reached it, he looked out and did a double-take. With a puzzled expression, he said, "Huh. Well, that's something you don't see every day."
He was right about that.
When my only reply was an irritated look, Brody asked, "Is that a crown?"
Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3) Page 12