Bad Seed

Hank sighed and rubbed his temples. “Truthfully, he's not a bad guy. Deep down and all, he's been through a lot, and it's changed him. Not for the better, obviously. He's a drunk, but won't admit to it, and someone needs to help him manage his life, to get things under control before it ruins his career.”

I'd heard about Drake’s downward spiral after losing his wife and daughter, so I knew what Hank was talking about. Still, it didn't give him an excuse to treat people like shit.

“That sounds very challenging,” I said. Helping a man who'd been through so much, who was still dealing with the pain, wasn't going to be easy. It's also why I agreed to the interview. If I could help him, I could make a real difference. This is the type of help I wanted to provide for people, the reason I studied psychology in the first place.

“Every other woman I’ve interviewed wants to fall all over him, tell him what he wants to hear and inflate his ego. I can’t hire someone like that. He needs someone who isn’t afraid to pop the little bubble he’s created for himself. I’m not just looking for a personal assistant, I’m looking for someone who can help get him sober.”

“And you think I can do all of that?” I asked.

“To be honest, I haven’t gotten this far into the interview with anyone else yet. Don’t disappoint me now.”

“I don’t intend to,” I said.

“Good. I like that. Okay. Let’s start with your credentials.”

“I’ve been working with this company for three and a half years now. Always part-time, always from home. I specialize in time management and over-the-phone counseling.”

“Getting a degree?”

“Yes. From Vanderbilt.”

“What’s your degree?” he asked.

“Psychology with a focus on substance abuse counseling.”

“Sounds like the perfect person for this job.”

“I’ve never taken on a full-time client like this. If you want to hire me for the job, I’d like your permission to use it as a bargaining chip with my professors.”

“Why? You failing a class?” he asked.

“No. But I could use it for credit in a couple of my courses if I smooth talked them enough, which would free up my schedule to do all the things you’re requiring of me. I have online courses I’m finishing up, but I had two that required me to be on campus this year. I could get out of them with this job if I phrased it as a paid internship. That would free up my time to work with Mr. Blackthorn.”

“If it helps you with your own time management, I’ll write a personal request and sign it myself,” he said.

“Anything else you want to know?”

“Yes. How familiar are you with people who have autism?”

“Mr. Blackthorn doesn’t strike me as someone who has autism,” I said.

“Because he doesn’t. Are you familiar?” he asked again.

“I can’t say I have any close friends who struggle with it, but it’s something I can read up on and learn about.”

“Good,” he said. “When can you start?”

“As soon as you need me,” I said.

“I’ll need you to sign the NDA before we leave the office. Congratulations. You got the job. God help your poor soul.”

Sighing, I shook my head as I stood and took the hand Hank offered.

I left the room and went back to my desk, then closed out the article in front of me. I got the job. Holy shit, I’d actually scored the job. Drake was still enjoying the women that were gathered around him, oblivious to the fact that someone had been hired to whip his life back into shape. I wondered if he knew the type of light Hank was painting him in during these interviews.

Hank gave me the impression I would need to be strong to corral a man like Drake, but I knew I was up for the task. No one ran me over, not even my professors. Sometimes it bit me in the ass, but most of the time it worked in my favor. My mother, despite her difficulties, raised me to be a strong woman.

“Drake, I want to introduce you to your new P.A.”