[ COMING SOON — not tomorrow, I start my new job ]
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JAVI RIVERA AND SCOTT MILLER sat across from Marshall Riggs at the conference table in the StormPAR office located in Oklahoma. The top investor of the company had requested a meeting, and both men figured it could only be about one thing.
They hadn't started collecting their data yet, but in their defense, only one tornado had hit Oklahoma so far that year. Storm season was just starting, and both men were prepared to argue that and point out that as the weeks passed, more and more opportunities would arise.
But much to their surprise, when Marshall Riggs sat across from them, he seemed almost nervous — Riggs was never nervous. He had a way of commanding every room he entered.
"Thanks for meeting with me, boys," Riggs said while clearing his throat. "Well, let's just get it out in the open. I've got a new hire for you."
Javi frowned at that, who oversaw every employee hire they had. Riggs had a lot of control over StormPAR but he had no say in hiring. "May I ask who and what they'd be doing? We don't have any positions to fill."
"Well, she's less of an employee and more of an... intern. A college intern," he explained. Then Riggs scratched his head, looking to his nephew. "You remember Elianna Fisher?"
Scott scrunched his face up in displeasure, recalling a bratty girl that was eight years younger than him, who he had to put up with right up until he turned eighteen and left for school, never giving the daughter of a family friend a second thought.
"Yeah," Riggs chuckled at his expression. "That Elianna. Well, she's in college now. Studying meteorology according to her mama. Told her she could work for y'all for a few months to get some experience under her belt."
Javi remained silent, watching how Scott studied his uncle. "Why exactly are you offering her a job when we aren't big enough to have an intern program yet?" Scott asked.
"Well, I may... owe her mama a favor."
Scott leaned back, a knowing look on his face. Michelle Fisher was a lawyer — a damn good one who had a record of getting some rather scummy people off scot-free. And Scott knew his uncle was the dictionary definition of scummy.
Not that he could complain given that the man had taken him in at a young age after his parents died. He owed him everything, even his current job, to the man.
"So," Riggs said, clapping his hands. "I've made a reservation for you three tonight at the Italian place down the street. You show her a good time and tell her about the company and what she'll be doing."
First, they had to figure out what she'd be doing.
Five minutes later, Riggs was gone, and Scott was clearly sulking, much to Javi's amusement.
