Page 149 of Bad Seed


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I gathered up my things and left Drake to his devices with his fans. Even though he had been staring me down like prey, it didn’t look like he noticed I had gotten up and left, which told me even more about his personality. He wanted quick fixes to what he needed. He wanted my attention, but when he couldn’t get it, he switched into a toddler mindset.

He went off and found the quickest source of attention he could find.

I walked into the conference room, and a middle-aged man was sitting at the desk. He was balding on the top of his head, and he looked tired. I could only imagine the exhaustion dealing with Drake Blackthorn on a daily basis brought with it. I sat in the chair across from him and placed the file folder in my lap, waiting for him to ask me his first question.

But instead, he began to rattle off a bunch of things he was going to require of me.

“Here’s what I need. I need someone who can handle Drake. Someone who doesn’t mind standing up to him and telling him what he needs to hear. What I need is someone to make Drake predictable. He’s an unpredictable man who is tanking his image with the media, and someone needs to help him clean up his act. He has a problem he won’t admit to, an attitude that can’t be adjusted, and I’m fresh out of options.”

“Sounds like a true southern gentleman,” I said, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

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?”

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