Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) - Aimee Nicole Walker Page 0,62
Felix’s open door. When Felix didn’t stop what he was doing, the person cleared their throat. Felix kept working.
“Excuse me, Felix. Can I have a minute?”
Felix had known who his visitor was without looking up from his computer screen. Shy knock, awkward throat noise, and a timid voice equaled Jimmy.
“What can I do for you, Jimmy?” Felix asked, but he didn’t stop typing. If the rookie wasn’t confident about interrupting him, then Felix had no qualms about giving the kid only part of his attention. When the pause stretched beyond awkward and became weird, Felix finally looked up.
Jimmy was as pale as a ghost and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth hard enough to draw blood.
“For fuck’s sake,” Felix groused. “Come in here and sit down before you pass out. I’m all out of smelling salts.”
Jimmy’s shoulders tensed, and his face turned a mottled pink as if his skin couldn’t make up its mind about being angry. Felix was just happy to see a spark of life. “I’m not going to pass out like a damsel in distress.”
“Convince me,” Felix challenged, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. “Show me that you want to be a reporter for Savannah Morning News. Scratch that, Jimmy. Show me you deserve to be here.”
Jimmy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost cartoonishly. If this had been one of Felix’s beloved childhood Saturday-morning shows, Jimmy’s heart would be knocking against his rib cage.
“Spit it out, kid. I don’t have all day. Wow me.”
Jimmy laughed nervously. “My first article is due next week. Would you consider reading it and providing feedback?”
“Me?” Felix asked. People rarely caught him by surprise, but Jimmy just had. Felix had been nothing but caustic and rude to him. Why the hell would the younger man seek him out? “Why?”
“Because you’ll be brutally honest, and it’s the only way I will reach my full potential.”
Felix nodded. “I won’t hold anything back. Are you sure you’re prepared for it?”
“No,” Jimmy admitted. “But it’s what I need.”
Felix had never seen himself as the mentoring type. Correction: he’d never wanted to be a mentor. That hadn’t changed, but Jimmy had piqued his curiosity. “Email it to me. Be sure to include the deadline for me to provide my feedback.” With that, Felix turned his attention back to his computer without so much as a goodbye to the young reporter. He was such a dick sometimes.
At three o’clock, he powered down his computer and left for an important appointment. He’d called Veronica the morning after watching Spencer’s interviews and requested a meeting with The Auto King. She’d assumed Felix wanted to inquire about the status of his Fusion and referred him to the service department.
“Making assumptions is your specialty, isn’t it?” Felix had asked her. He hadn’t waited for her to answer; he’d saved them both precious time by stating the reason for his call. “I’d like to interview Mr. Spencer about his Second Chance Program.”
“Oh. Is this for the paper?”
“Either the paper or the podcast,” Felix had replied. “I’m not sure where it fits yet, but I know it’s a critical conversation to have. If I’m going to showcase the more sinister parts of our fair city, then I should also highlight her best attributes.”
“Isn’t that contradictory?”
“Isn’t that life?” Felix had countered. “Seldom is a person, or a city in this case, all good or all bad.”
“True. I’ll talk to Mr. Spencer when he arrives. One of us will get back to you sometime today.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Spencer had called him a few hours later. “I’d be delighted to discuss our Second Chance Program with you, Felix. How does Thursday at three thirty work?”
“Perfect.” He’d replied without looking at his calendar. Getting a face-to-face meeting with Spencer would take precedence over everything else. “Would you like to see my interview questions in advance to prepare?” It was an offer he made to no one.
“That won’t be necessary, Felix.” Spencer had passed the test.
When he arrived at the dealership, Felix repeated the steps from his first meeting with Spencer—dodging overeager salesmen, getting buzzed back into the corporate office, and facing down a fire-breathing dragon.
“Mr. Franklin,” Veronica said. Her voice wasn’t quite sharp enough to cut glass, but it didn’t give him warm and fuzzy feelings either.
Spencer’s greeting was as cordial as Felix’s last visit but seemed less forced. Felix’s aversion to the king’s inner lair, however, was the same. Maybe more so after witnessing the man’s golly-gee-aw-shucks routine during the two interviews.