Flint and she had disagreed on many campaigns, but her boss, Flint’s father, had often taken her side. As Ivy landed more prominent clients and saved Metric face, Flint had warmed to her.
There was even talk of her name being next for an executive position.
And this, she thought, following Flint into the conference room, is why she put in the long hours. She wanted to know if she was good enough to earn that next executive position.
“Vince, thanks for coming in. Meet Ivy Powell. She is one of our newest senior staffers. We’re very pleased with her work and, if I recall correctly, she had a boyfriend in the army.”
“I know you’re the best in the business, Flint. Ivy, nice to meet you.” Vince Winston’s bushy eyebrows and thick silver hair were familiar from being on an investor TV reality show. If Winston was investing in this, it was serious.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Winston.”
“Is your boyfriend still active?”
“No. He’s moved on to other things,” Ivy said.
“Come sit, Ivy, and we’ll catch you up. Ribbon of Aid is a new NGO that will take medical supplies to hard-hit targets that need them the most. What’s unique about us is we aren’t like the other private contractors. We only hire former military.”
Ribbon of Aid. Ivy swallowed over the lump in her throat. It’s the NGO Gabe had signed on with. In two days, he’d be on the job for them.
Private contractors hire former military all the time. She wondered briefly how much Mr. Winston actually knew about this organization.
“I’d love to hear more,” Ivy said.
Flint pulled out a chair for her, and Mr. Winston flipped open a portfolio. “Our team on the ground has worked with locals to make sure they can deliver these medical supplies into even the most hostile territory, and I guess that’s what’s unique about us. Check out our mock-up ads.”
Ivy flipped through the pages in the book of guys Gabe would fit right in with, delivering boxes while men in tactical uniforms stood around.
“So we need a new story to attract former military members. What do you think, Ivy?” Flint asked.
“Well, from what I see here, the emphasis is on the supplies, but if you’re going to attract former military, you need to tell them what’s in it for them, how they can use their skills.”
“Are they really so altruistic? Look at the pay we’re offering them.”
Ivy took the contract from Mr. Winston. She nodded. “Yes, that’s a very generous amount, but it’s not that much more than other contractors. I think what they want to know the most is this is an ongoing gig.”
Mr. Winston grinned. “Yes, here at Ribbon of Aid, you’re a member of the family. That kind of thing?”
“Yes. For a lot of guys, it’s the family they miss as well as the purpose,” Ivy said.
Flint stared at her from across the table. “I knew you were the right one to have on this, Ivy. Vince, I’ll get the ad guys on it, with Ivy looking it over before it goes to you. How’s that?”
“Great. I’m glad to go forward with this. Thank you, Flint. Ivy, nice meeting you.” Mr. Winston stood, shook her hand and exited the building.
“Mr. Fitzgerald? Carly Edwards is in your office crying her eyes out,” Steph, their receptionist, poked her head in. “I told her to wait in reception, but she insisted.”
“Damn, I hate it when they cry,” Flint said. “Thanks, Ivy.”
“Happy to help. I’ll get those copy notes over to you today.”
“No need. Send them on to the ad people. I trust you.”
Ivy glowed at the compliment.
Flint waved and rushed out of the room. Ivy gathered the portfolio and the literature Mr. Winston had left on the table.
She noticed a flat black wallet and raced down to reception. “Hey Steph, did Mr. Winston leave? I think he forgot his wallet.”
“He always forgets something.” Steph smiled. “I might be able to catch him. He just left.”
