Maddox smiles, almost to himself, at my reaction and casually begins to button his shirt while leading me inside.
“Hey, Madison! Thanks for coming over. Did you find the place okay?”
“Um…yeah,” I breathe, taking in my surroundings as I step into the house.
It’s just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. Everywhere I look are tall ceilings, large windows letting in lots of natural light, hardwood floors, and even a chandelier over a winding staircase.
“Maddox, this place is insane!” I exclaim before I can stop myself.
“Thanks,” chuckles Maddox, then grimaces. “I love the house, but I have no clue how to decorate it.” Only then do I notice that the walls are white and mostly bare, there are no curtains or window treatments of any kind, and what little furnishings there are don’t exactly match the rest of the house. The ratty couch and scratched end tables look more like they belong in a frat house than in this lovely home.
“No, it’s…great!” I lie cheerfully. “Minimalistic and…spacious!”
Maddox laughs. “You’re sweet, but you’re lying,” he says, and I sheepishly agree. “I know it needs work, but I moved in not too long ago and I want to take my time collecting nice pieces and making it really personal rather than just buying a bunch of Ikea crap to fill it up.”
I love that and would do the same if I were him, so I tell him as much.
“Are you into interior design at all?” he looks at me curiously. “Maybe you could give me some advice in that department. After all, that’s what friends are for, right?”
“Sure, but tonight let’s focus on the legal advice,” I say smoothly, leading us away from the couch and toward his kitchen instead. He has a marble island with tall, sturdy bar stools instead of a kitchen table. I place my bag on a stool and pull out my laptop and a legal pad, ready to get down to business.
“Whoa, not so fast,” laughs Maddox. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got water, beer, juice, wine…”
“Water is fine,” I say, primly perching on another stool and opening my computer.
“Mind if I have a beer, then?” he asks. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s your house,” I shrug.
He walks over to the stainless-steel refrigerator—it looks like he has already invested in some nice kitchen appliances, at least—and pulls out a water pitcher and a single beer bottle.
“Ice?” he asks, sounding almost nervous, but that’s probably just my imagination.
“No, thanks.” I do want ice, but I don't want to be annoying. I guess I’m a little nervous too.
He pours the chilled, filtered water into a tall glass and sets it in front of me before cracking open his beer and sitting on the stool next to me. His fresh, clean smell fills my nostrils, making it hard to concentrate. I take a sip of my water to center myself.
“So,” I begin, placing my glass back on the island. “What kind of legal advice are you looking for?”
“Well,” Maddox begins, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I don’t remember him ever growing out his facial hair; he’s always either clean shaven or rocking a few days of stubble. Tonight, his face is smooth, and I guess he shaved when he showered before I came over. I try not to imagine running my hands over his smooth, tan cheeks. “It’s kind of complicated. I’m actually surprised something like this hasn’t come up before, but I suppose it was only a matter of time. Most big marketing companies have their own legal team, but since we’re a younger business, we haven’t really had need for one yet. I was hoping to pick your brain about it first before deciding what our next move should be.”
“Our?” I ask, wondering what he means.
“Yeah, Axel, Declan, and me. And maybe you, if it’s something you’re interested in and think you could take on.”
“I see. So what’s the issue?”
“Well,” Maddox takes a long swig of his beer, “we recently came up with an ad campaign to show a potential client. The client is also looking around at other marketing companies, which is pretty standard. We usually come up with a few different directions and sample ads, present them to the client, and then they either go with our company or choose a different one.”
From the looks of this place, they must always go with you guys, I think but don’t say out loud.
“A few months ago, we presented to this potential client,” Maddox continues. “And we knew they’d love the campaign we came up with. We worked really hard on it and did a ton of research to make it really personal to the client.”
“Did they like it?” I ask.
“Well, when we presented, they seemed to love the concept and were really enthusiastic about it, just like we’d hoped. But then, a week or so after the campaign presentation, they emailed to tell us they were ‘going in a different direction.’ That in itself isn’t that strange, and only about half of our prospective clients who don’t use us even bother to let us know when they’re going with somebody else. Which is what ‘in another direction,’ really means,” he laughs.
“But then,” he continues, “we recently just saw a commercial for the client’s product. And they had totally used our entire campaign concept. The same logo, the phrasing, the color scheme…everything was literally identical.” Maddox shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “So, we did a little digging, and it turns out they ripped off our presentation and used another company to launch the campaign we designed, but they paid them significantly less than what we charge. They must have taken everything we gave them from the presentation and handed it over to a cheaper company. Bastards,” he grumbles.
As I absorb all of this information, I’m offended on Maddox’s behalf. Imagine someone stealing all your hard work, especially knowing you would most likely find out!
“But that’s ridiculous!” I sputter angrily. “How can they get away with that? That can’t possibly be legal!”
“Right?” Maddox agrees, taking another drink. “Only, here’s the problem…” he looks a little sheepish.
“What is it?” I ask. So he really did only invite me over for legal advice. I’m feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment, but try to push it away to focus.
“Okay, so, this is embarrassing, but like I said, we’ve never encountered anything like this before,” he says quickly. “Turns out, we should’ve been having prospective clients sign a contract before presenting them with anything, to make sure they don’t use our ideas without permission. It’s just never been a problem before because none of our prospective clients have been total assholes,” he says angrily.
“So, what you need is a good contract drawn up to give to all your future prospective clients,” I say, scribbling furiously on my legal pad. “I can do that for you, no problem, and I’ll have my boss look it over to make sure it’s airtight.”
“Great!” says Maddox. “We definitely need that, and I’d love to have you do it. But we also don’t want to let them get away with it, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking of the drunk driver that killed my father. “I know. So, what do you have in mind?”