Millionaire Boss (Freeman Brothers 1)

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 my 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.