Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,46
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.