Free KAGE (KAGE Trilogy #1) by Maris Black Page A

clean.”
    He left before I could reply, and I was left standing in a strange office, in front of a strange cubicle, surrounded by a bunch of strange people. I sat down in my chair and pulled out my cell phone to call Dr. Washburn. Getting some emergency advice was my first order of business.
    “Dr. Washburn, I’m in deep shit.”
    I heard the professor’s nasally chuckle on the other end of the line. “Hello to you, too, Mr. Atwood. What can I do for you?”
    “I’m sitting in a cubicle,” I said, then dropped my voice, remembering Kage’s warning about being overheard. “I don’t know what to do, Dr. Washburn. I figured they’d tell me what to do, you know? Like an assignment or something. This is jacked up.”
    Dr. Washburn chuckled again. “Calm down, Jamie. Think. You must realize this job you’ve accepted is largely an artistic endeavor. It’s not piecing together a car on an assembly line or making pre-prepped fast food burgers. You’re creating something from scratch. No one can tell you what to do, because you are the one who will be planning everything. You’re the expert. Do you understand?”
    “I think so,” I groaned. “Oh, God. I thought I’d be putting together press packets or something. Calling places to arrange things.”
    Again with the infuriating chuckle.
    “Doc, could you please quit laughing at me? This is serious.”
    “I know, Jamie. Listen, all of those things you just mentioned are legitimate things you may be doing. But you will be the one to come up with the plan. Essentially, you will be giving yourself assignments rather than waiting for someone else to give them to you. Autonomy is something you have to get used to in the working world. It’s not like high school or college. Who do you think comes up with the assignments to give to you in my classes?”
    “You?” I asked hesitantly.
    “Me. Not the dean or the school board. I have to come up with that stuff out of my own noggin. That’s what you’re going to have to do, as well.”
    I paused for a moment, my heart beating fast, realizing I may have been in over my head. “So where do I start?” I asked finally.
    “Do some research on the internet. Try to find articles or books about publicists, especially sports publicists, and find out specifics about what they do. Recommendations, pitfalls, anecdotes… Whatever will spark some ideas about the types of things you should be doing. Then get to know your client, Jamie. That’s the most important thing.”
    “That makes sense.” I liked the idea of getting to know my client a lot more than doing research.
    “Give it a couple of days, then call me and tell me what you’ve learned. Okay?”
    “Okay, Doc. Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome. And Jamie… stop stressing. That won’t do anyone any good.”
    It was my turn to chuckle. “Says the man who freaks out if he’s one second late to class.”
    I could hear the frown over the phone. “That’s different.”
     
    BY LUNCH time, I was engrossed in an excerpt from a biography of a publicist who had represented a bunch of high-profile athletes. The trials he faced in making some of those guys look good had me shaking my head. Dog fighting, alleged murder, domestic abuse, cheating, and let’s not forget the ever-popular use of performance enhancing drugs— or PED’s as the media so loved to call them. You name it, these athletes had done it, and then turned around and hired someone to get them out of it.
    Of course, it wasn’t all a desperate game of clean-up for the publicists of the world. Advertising campaigns, wardrobe choices, speeches, and public appearances were some of the other less dramatic things they dealt with on a daily basis.
    Overall, I felt pretty productive for a guy who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. I was jotting down some ideas on a notepad that Catwoman Cathy had given me when Kage showed up for lunch. His approach was so stealthy I didn’t realize he was there until his