sleeves rolled up, just like mine. His tie is even blue and red striped, like mine. Another good omen. I smile.
“This is Grant Blue. He says he’s supposed to intern for you. I think he’s lying.”
My smile evaporates, along with my burst of false confidence. My eyes dart frantically toward Melody the backstabber, then to the mayor, who’s looking at me with eyebrows raised, then back at the redheaded betrayer again.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t speak. My tongue feels like it’s made of lead.
The mayor stands up and circles his desk. “Don’t be ridiculous, Melody. Why would someone lie about interning? It’s hard enough to hire someone to fetch me coffee and run documents around, let alone getting a willing mark to do it for free. That’d be like sneaking into a work camp.”
He reaches out, and I shake his hand, without even thinking twice about it. “I’m glad you could make it, Grant. I understand you were class valedictorian at Guthrie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What a coincidence. So was I. We beet diggers have to stick together, am I right?”
I nod. “Absolutely, sir.”
Clapping me on the shoulder, the mayor smiles. “Enough of this ‘sir’ business. You can call me Patrick.”
I blink in surprise. Mayor Golden’s first name is Patrick ? As in, P-A-T-R-I-C-K, with seven letters?
That settles it. This man is officially my ticket to future glory and success. Today, mayoral intern. Tomorrow, President of the United States. Why not?
With that, he turns back toward Melody. “Sorry about my daughter. She likes to give the new interns a hard time.”
Daughter? Uh-oh.
Behind the mayor’s—aka her dad’s—back, Melody gives me a self-satisfied smile.
“That’s because most of the interns you hire are useless.”
Wow. Okay, so maybe she only looks like a nice girl.
I decide not to let her obvious dig get to me. The odds are in my favor. I just have to keep believing that I’m going to succeed, and I will.
“I really appreciate the opportunity, sir—I mean, Patrick.” I purposefully ignore Melody’s gaze. “What would you like me to do first?”
“Actually,” the mayor looks at his watch. “I’ve got a lunch with the district governor at the country club in fifteen minutes. You know what? Why don’t you come along? We can get to know each other a little better, and you can keep me from being too bored with all the talk about budgetary concerns. Melody will get a time card set up for you, and you can officially start working in the office tomorrow morning. Sound like a plan?”
“Uh, sure,” I say. “That sounds great.”
Best. Internship. Ever.
As I wait for the mayor—who is quickly becoming my personal hero—to grab his coat, Melody leads me back into the front office and hands me a sticky note.
“Write down your phone number and social security number please, so I can put you in the system.”
“Okay.” I pull a pen out of my pocket—because I don’t like to use other peoples’—and write down the information. Everything seems to be happening so fast, it feels so surreal. But maybe this is what life is like when you stop overanalyzing everything. Things just work out on their own, like magic.
When I hand the note back to Melody, her fingers brush mine. I make a mental note to excuse myself to wash my hands the second we get to the country club, so I don’t smell like fruity perfume for the rest of the day. Then I kick myself, because my OCD is making me paranoid again.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, smiling.
I smile back, even though I know I should be careful not to let her get the wrong impression. Plus, if Tash finds out I’m working with a cute redhead who happens to be my new mentor’s daughter, she could get upset. I know I should be cautious, and make sure not to cross any lines.
But on the other hand, I’m freaking sick of playing it safe all the time.
CHAPTER SIX
As I leave the country club, I decide
“This is Grant Blue. He says he’s supposed to intern for you. I think he’s lying.”
My smile evaporates, along with my burst of false confidence. My eyes dart frantically toward Melody the backstabber, then to the mayor, who’s looking at me with eyebrows raised, then back at the redheaded betrayer again.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t speak. My tongue feels like it’s made of lead.
The mayor stands up and circles his desk. “Don’t be ridiculous, Melody. Why would someone lie about interning? It’s hard enough to hire someone to fetch me coffee and run documents around, let alone getting a willing mark to do it for free. That’d be like sneaking into a work camp.”
He reaches out, and I shake his hand, without even thinking twice about it. “I’m glad you could make it, Grant. I understand you were class valedictorian at Guthrie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What a coincidence. So was I. We beet diggers have to stick together, am I right?”
I nod. “Absolutely, sir.”
Clapping me on the shoulder, the mayor smiles. “Enough of this ‘sir’ business. You can call me Patrick.”
I blink in surprise. Mayor Golden’s first name is Patrick ? As in, P-A-T-R-I-C-K, with seven letters?
That settles it. This man is officially my ticket to future glory and success. Today, mayoral intern. Tomorrow, President of the United States. Why not?
With that, he turns back toward Melody. “Sorry about my daughter. She likes to give the new interns a hard time.”
Daughter? Uh-oh.
Behind the mayor’s—aka her dad’s—back, Melody gives me a self-satisfied smile.
“That’s because most of the interns you hire are useless.”
Wow. Okay, so maybe she only looks like a nice girl.
I decide not to let her obvious dig get to me. The odds are in my favor. I just have to keep believing that I’m going to succeed, and I will.
“I really appreciate the opportunity, sir—I mean, Patrick.” I purposefully ignore Melody’s gaze. “What would you like me to do first?”
“Actually,” the mayor looks at his watch. “I’ve got a lunch with the district governor at the country club in fifteen minutes. You know what? Why don’t you come along? We can get to know each other a little better, and you can keep me from being too bored with all the talk about budgetary concerns. Melody will get a time card set up for you, and you can officially start working in the office tomorrow morning. Sound like a plan?”
“Uh, sure,” I say. “That sounds great.”
Best. Internship. Ever.
As I wait for the mayor—who is quickly becoming my personal hero—to grab his coat, Melody leads me back into the front office and hands me a sticky note.
“Write down your phone number and social security number please, so I can put you in the system.”
“Okay.” I pull a pen out of my pocket—because I don’t like to use other peoples’—and write down the information. Everything seems to be happening so fast, it feels so surreal. But maybe this is what life is like when you stop overanalyzing everything. Things just work out on their own, like magic.
When I hand the note back to Melody, her fingers brush mine. I make a mental note to excuse myself to wash my hands the second we get to the country club, so I don’t smell like fruity perfume for the rest of the day. Then I kick myself, because my OCD is making me paranoid again.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, smiling.
I smile back, even though I know I should be careful not to let her get the wrong impression. Plus, if Tash finds out I’m working with a cute redhead who happens to be my new mentor’s daughter, she could get upset. I know I should be cautious, and make sure not to cross any lines.
But on the other hand, I’m freaking sick of playing it safe all the time.
CHAPTER SIX
As I leave the country club, I decide
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