Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,16
quickly bounced around a few ideas, but are nowhere near coming up with a way forward. That was what we wanted to cover during this meeting. We need to hurry up and start working this shit out. We have to get to the client before they find out for themselves.
“The last thing we want is for them to be told by an outsider before they hear it from us, or worse still, for them to find out when they see the ads on air. We need to be proactive and approach them, stat, for there to be any chance of this going our way.”
“That’s a point,” Beck interjected. In all the excitement earlier, I forgot to even ask you how you found out about this? Surely it’s all confidential at this point?”
“Of course, it is, but you know me. I have my sources, because, unlike young Master Davies over here, I prefer to make friends over enemies. As my grandmother always used to say, you catch more flies with molasses than vinegar.”
“What the fuck do you want to catch any flies for?”
“It’s a saying, dumbass, which I’m sure you’re well aware, so stop being an asshole just for a moment.” He knew I had no intention of being anything other than what I always was.
“‘Molasses. Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days? You have a fly inside PPBW who is prepared to risk their job and reputation to leak confidential information to you this way?” I looked up. Beck looked incredulous, as he spoke. “She must be really sweet on you.”
“Hahaha. Who said it was a woman?”
“Nobody, including me, but you’re not telling me a dude is willing to put his neck on the block for you that way, are you?”
“No, you’re right, it’s a woman. You’re wrong about one thing though.”
“Oh really, what?”
“She doesn’t work for PPBW.”
“Where does she work, then? Who else would have access to information about what they are running in an upcoming ad campaign?”
Nate flashed his world-famous panty-frying grin. “She works at the clearing house where all the ad files are sent before being distributed to the networks and going to air. We have a little arrangement going. She gives me a heads up when anything comes in for our clients’ competitors, and I give her... molasses.”
“Sheesh, still risky. That must be some damned fine ‘molasses’ you have there.”
“You know it, bro. Triple A-grade.” Nate’s laughter trilled around the room.
“Christ on a crumpet. As much as I’d ‘love’ to spend more time thinking about Nate’s willy, can we please, for the love of God, get back to the matter at hand?” Willy. Crumpet. Dillon knew we couldn’t take him seriously when he used those ridiculous British words, yet he still did it.
“Okay, cool it, Tom Hardy. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or something?” Dillon flipped Nate off.
Nate didn’t even register the gesture. “So given her position, my fly also told me that the campaign launches on Friday, meaning we have three days before the world considers Kick It To The Curb to be Free PE’s original idea and tagline.”
“That’s not really the point though, is it? Obviously we’re not going to get a new concept up and running and out the door by Friday—in fact, that’s the whole reason we’re here in the first place. Carlisle have been so slow to move on anything, and have put everything we’ve done through rounds of approvals, testing, and whatever other hoops we’ve had to jump through, which has eaten up months of creative development time. Those little bitches knew that from firsthand experience when they stole the idea and presented it to their client.”
“They did. They also knew that any concept they came up with, in any capacity for any client during their tenure here, remained our intellectual property even after they left. It’s standard fucking procedure, industrywide. And this wasn’t just some dusty idea they had sitting at the bottom of their reject ideas drawer. They knew that this one was being developed for one of our biggest and most high-profile clients, when they went and shopped it to their competitor.”
“Not only that, but they came up with the line, but all the concepts they had to go with it were terrible. I was the one who made the idea into something useable. I can’t believe their father would risk doing this. I mean, everybody is going to end up with egg on their