our department lead. David Helms runs the PR sector of the Albany Wolves with an iron fist because he has the skills to do so. While upper management constantly comes up with new, fresh ideas for how to make the team seem better in the public eye, David is the one who makes the magic happen behind the scenes—whether that’s organizing charity functions that run smoother than a submarine deployment or simply making fans feel appreciated during team events like training camp. He does it all, and he does it better than anyone else ever could. His creativity is only slightly eclipsed by his work ethic, attention to detail, and organizational skills.
I could learn so much from him.
Except how to boss people around. Pretty sure I’m never going to hone that skill set.
Right on cue, he barks out orders. “Kaylie, pull all public footage of Mitchell’s and Fossoway’s interactions. Leave no stone unturned. Go all the way back to when they first played together in their hometown’s recreation league. Mason, you’re on SO duty. Give me all the details you can find about Mitchell’s love life. No, I don’t care how you get that dirt. I want concrete proof there’s no one warming his bed lately. If you can track down his ex and get the real story of why they split, even better. We all know Fossoway’s a player both on and off the field. Caitlin and Zoe, you two are on jersey chaser duty. Find me the most recent women Fossoway has slept with. If Mitchell’s back story provides nothing, then we’ll have Fossoway’s womanizing ways as a back-up plan to defend Mitchell’s reputation.”
They scatter like leaves on the wind, eager to do our collective master’s bidding. Everyone has a lot riding on this assignment being a success after all. Even if they enjoy watching me fumble at it.
David turns back to me and immediately rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
I trail after him as he strides quickly to his desk to begin his own research for the day. It’s probably beyond stupid on my part, but this feels wrong. “I know it’s not my place, but…despite their argument last week, Fossoway and Mitchell are friends. They played together in college and in high school! If you go after Alex like this and run him through the mud, that’s not going to make Mike want to play nice with us.”
David sits at his desk and wakes up his computer, immediately opening several websites that I’m not at all familiar with. They look like trashy gossip rags, but for sports. “You’re right. It is not an intern’s place to question the methods of her boss. You’re getting a pass because you’re so eager to learn, and I admire that about you. It is as important to know our client as it is to know our enemy. For now, and under these circumstances, Fossoway must be treated as the enemy.”
“But that’s my point. He isn’t the enemy. This is the wrong play for this situation. Couldn’t we just—I don’t know—play up on the fact they’re old friends, and friends sometimes argue?”
David stares at me with a deadpan expression that screams, Shut up and let me do the heavy lifting, darling.
Yes, he calls everyone darling. And yes, I’m well aware my co-workers think I’m too inexperienced to handle this delicate situation. Let’s not even mention the fact that I know virtually nothing about football and am only well-versed at online stalking my favorite band rather than ripped professional athletes.
Honestly, I’m not even sure how my dad got me this internship that most college grads in my position would be thanking their lucky stars to land.
David rests his elbows on his desktop then steeples his fingers. It’s a sure sign he’s about to put me in my place, which he never hesitates to do in equal measure as taking me under his wing. “You researched enough to know our client, Mike Mitchell, is old friends with enemy number one, Alex Fossoway. And yet you never questioned why I felt the need to carefully choose your attire for today’s meet-cute, in spite of needing to use our lunch hour to shop for your clothing. You either didn’t notice or chose to remain willfully ignorant of the bets being placed in the department about whether the team would mistake you for a hooker. And you have yet to tell me how receptive Mr. Mitchell is to your new role in his life.