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“This isn’t about you, but the company,” she clarified. “The act is more important than the amount. If you can become the face of McAllister’s charitable giving, people will associate that with you, and the image of the shark will recede. Your personality score will improve.”
I nodded. “Get noticed then?”
“In the charitable-giving regard, yes. For now, you don’t want to be associated with anything having to do with your prior job. Mergers and acquisitions symbolize heartlessness to people. Many of them know someone who was laid off as a result of one, or at least have read the stories.”
A thought occurred to me. “Is that why I’m here? Did you suggest this?”
For a moment she blushed, then nodded.
I’d gotten to her. It also meant Dad trusted her company, and by extensionher.
“I didn’t have much time,” she said. “And yes, this position was my suggestion.”
I didn’t know whether to thank her or be pissed.
She pulled out another sheet, the one with the fountain pictures. “Now, let’s discuss your personal life.”
“I’ve already decided I’m swearing off girls for a while.”
She pulled out copies of several articles. “Let’s take a look at a list of your previous dates.”
I sat stoically, ready to be criticized. Apparently this was part of the process—I had to repent for my previous behavior.
She shuffled through the papers. “A socialite, whatever that means, an actress, a dancer, an athlete’s ex-wife, another socialite, another actress, an Instagram star, whatever that is, a politician’s ex-wife…” She looked up. “Do I need to go on?”
“I said I’m done with dating. You won’t be seeing any more pictures like those.”
She shook her head. “What did I say about the most recent picture sticking with the public? You need to replace that with a more wholesome image. Personally, I don’t care how many women you’re whoring around with at any one time, but the public does, and that meansyoudo.”
“I’ve only ever gone out with one girl at a time.” That was a rule of mine.
She rifled through her folder and held up her counterpoint. “And the Cranby twins?”
That picture was embarrassing even by my standards. My shoulders slumped. “They said they were a package deal, and it only lasted a week anyway.”
She held up a hand. “That’s not the point. It looks like you’re running around, screwing your way through the entire female population of the city. There are too many women here.” She held up the folder. “And none of them is the girl-next-door type the public can relate to.”
I shook my head in frustration. “I don’t understand. Are you suggesting you still want me to date? There’s no way I can do that and avoid the paparazzi.”
“So long as it’s consistently the same woman and she is someone the public will like on a personal level. These ladies you’ve been out with, and I use the term loosely…” She tapped the folder. “They’re all pretty, which is nice, but they all have reputations as bad as yours. They’re sleeping around town, trolling for a sugar daddy. If it looks like you’re merely dating her because she’s pretty, people are going to see you as no different than before.”
“Does this mean I’m supposed to find a girlfriend who is…” I raised air quotes. “Not pretty?”
“No, just a woman who would be welcome at your mother’s dinner table, somebody with class—not your usual bimbo social climber looking for a cushy prenup.”
She’d hit the nail on the head. Most of the girls in that folder had been on the prowl in the circuit for exactly that—a favorable marriage bargain or another notch on their bedpost. As a group, they slept their way up the ladder, as it were. I’d been happy to give a boost to one aspiring prospect after another, and this is where I’d ended up.
“If you’re willing to fully commit to the process, we can turn this around,” she said as she stood. “If not, it’s a waste of my time and your money. So which is it?”
My position couldn’t get any worse. “Sure, I’ll try this.”
Her voice turned icy. “Not good enough. In or out, which is it?” She had more backbone than I’d guessed.
I matched the ice in her tone. “In.”
“Good.” She extracted a card and set it on the desk. “This is a continuing consultancy. Absolutely no bimbos, not even for ice cream in the park. Call me when you’ve located a suitable long-term-girlfriend prospect, and we’ll talk about next steps. My partner, Bradley, will be by tomorrow to discuss how we coordinate with the press.”
I picked up the card. “Thank you.”
