Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
“So, Destiny, can you tell us why you’re excited to work with Home Shepherd?”
Again, my smile becomes more of a grimace as I answer the same question I’ve answered a dozen other times this week. At least I have my lines memorized.
“It’s an amazing opportunity,” I say.
Clara, bless her heart, has coached me through this so many times it feels almost natural.
Camera Lady nods enthusiastically.
“Home Shepherd is such a big name,” I continue. “They already do so much for making people feel secure. I know it’s going to boost my platform.”
The woman smiles encouragingly. I keep my body language relaxed and open as I continue.
“Of course, the chance to shadow such a well-known CEO is pretty thrilling, too,” I say, really hamming that part up.
Somehow, I don’t believe I actually will get to shadow him, but I know how corporate egos operate. We’ll let everyone think I will and that I’m oh-so-grateful for the opportunity.
Including Mr. High and Mighty Foster himself.
No harm in signaling that I know where my bread is buttered and why I’m here.
“I’m looking forward to making new connections and learning how to make a difference from a business perspective. A new one, I mean. I grew up with a big shot CEO for a dad, but that’s always been a little too personal to be useful. I can’t wait to get advice from someone who didn’t used to buy my pj’s. I can’t thank you guys enough. It’s a fresh perspective, and I’m totally game.”
Camera Lady grins. “Do you think you’ll take what you’ll learn here with you?”
“Absolutely.” My smile brightens, this time for real. “Mr. Foster is top dog in the home security biz, right? It would be pretty hard not to learn something from the best.”
There, I’ve done it. Name-dropped him.
The stupid, petty part of me hopes he’ll see this and realize what my expectations really are.
He hasn’t sent so much as a note by pigeon. He probably has no intention of even meeting me beyond a quick handshake and a how-do-you-do.
But I want him to feel a smidge guilty—if that’s possible.
There’s actually not much about him available online, despite his reputation. What little Clara knows was secondhand from another influencer who said he smashed some poor woman’s heart to bits with a flash-in-the-pan engagement.
That’s what the only articles I can find are buzzing about, aside from tech security issues that mostly go over my head.
That’s a bit of a red flag. Does he really only have one recent scandal?
Every time Dad sneezed, the press used to jump all over him.
As soon as I knew I won, I went full detective on Foster, searching for his LinkedIn, any social media profiles, any articles I could find about him.
His face looked weirdly familiar, too, but I couldn’t quite place it.
Before his escapades with Vanessa Dumas, the man was a ghost, and nobody gets to play phantom with this much money unless they’ve spent a ton on sweeping up their dirt.
But all he had was some corporate bio, which I read in detail, and some articles about how he established Home Shepherd years ago and how much money it’s making on cutting-edge innovations.
Aside from that, the rest was all rumors.
No social media.
No pictures of him having fun and showing off like billionaires in their prime do.
No slick images grandstanding with his charities, which is really weird when every rich guy with power has at least a couple sets or several big supportive speeches posted.
The only thing I could find were a few recent photos with the actress he apparently dumped or something.
I’m not sure I blame him, really.
She looks high-maintenance as hell.
But even those articles were mostly about her. The fact that she was on his arm, and how she feels, crying about the alleged breakup.
I could care less.
I care a little more about the fact that he’s enormously private.
Is he even aware I’m alive? Does he know this program exists?
Or did some minion come up with this idea and he just signed off on it without a second glance? From the pictures, which show a handsome, stern man with piercing blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass, he doesn’t exactly look friendly.
Or hyper-committed to charitable works that don’t make money.
And now, to no one’s surprise, I’m stuck here doing a bunch of publicity shoots and videos rather than anything substantive.
“Destiny?” Camera Lady calls with a frown.
I snap my smile back on my face for the rest of the session.
I definitely don’t meet Mr. Foster that day.
The next few weeks fly by in a social media haze with more mini events and publicity shots—anything and everything except real philanthropic work.
It’s uniquely exhausting.
The thought of what that money might accomplish is the only thing that keeps me going.
There are two million annoying reasons to stick with this, despite my irritation, and I spend my spare time figuring out where I’ll actually put the money.