Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
When we reach the fourth floor, Darcy turns toward the left, away from the glassed-in players’ lounge. “This is the C-suite,” she announces, leading me through an open archway into a grand office suite bedecked with plush carpets and a giant Legends logo on the paneled wall. “Beyond the bigwigs’ offices are the rest of the coaching staff, and corporate employees—including your cubicle.”
“Nice.”
She leads me toward her own desk, offering to hang up my winter jacket. “Look, Zoe,” she says. “I’m going to level with you. I’m very excited to have you in the front office. You have no idea.”
This snaps me out of my nervous reverie, and I focus on her pixie-like face. She’s smiling a little maniacally, and I can’t help but think Here we go again.
This still happens sometimes—the whole skating groupie thing. For some people, it doesn’t matter that I gave a disappointing performance at the Olympics. That I let my team down with a silver instead of a gold. Or that I bailed on my entire skating career four years later—right before the games.
Some people are just so fired up about figure skating that they want to talk about it, even if that’s not my scene anymore. Not even a little. So I paste on a polite smile and wait.
“Not to make this awkward,” she says, fitting my coat onto a hanger. “But it will be so great to have another woman on staff! Plus I saw your address on your HR file—my place is two streets over.”
I blink. “Howdy, neighbor.”
She laughs nervously as she puts the hanger on a coatrack. “I mean—this job can be such a sausage fest. And I could really use a work friend. Sorry if I made it super awkward. You’re probably wondering how fast you can install a doorbell camera and change your phone number.”
“Not at all,” I say, still catching up. “I totally get it. We should have a drink together.”
Her eyes light up again. “Yes to drinks. Or pedicures! Or both at the same time. Is that a thing? It should be a thing. And the team is leaving for their game at five if you’re free this evening.”
“Tonight works fine.” I’m basically friendless in New York. “But you’ll have to pick the spot.”
She clasps her hands together. “Yay! I’m hyped. Now let’s say hello to Mr. Sharp, okay? He’ll want to welcome you himself.” She frowns. “At least in his own special way.”
Yikes. “Let’s do it.”
I follow her toward his office, setting my shoulders back and lifting my chin. It’s the classic power stance that I was taught at age six. Straighten your spine, Zoe! If you don’t hold your body in a confident way, the panel of judges won’t believe in you.
That’s the kind of winning energy I need right now. Every interaction I’ve had with Sharp so far was more like a wrestling match with a porcupine than a friendly conversation.
Luckily, tolerating difficult people is my superpower. I’ll just have to dazzle Sharp with my work ethic and deep knowledge of the sport.
Darcy marches up to his door, and I watch her take a slow breath before she knocks.
“What?” a voice croaks from inside. “There’s no one I want to see right now—unless they brought me a double macchiato.”
Darcy opens the door, revealing the jowly grump seated behind his big boat of a desk. “Sir, if you have any more caffeine, they’ll use you to power the team jet. And the new skating coach is here. I brought her in so you could say hello.”
“Ah, the ice dancer,” he says, failing to look up from his phone. “She starts today?”
Darcy briefly closes her eyes, as if in pain, and her pale eyelashes flutter. “Yessir. Coach Carson is here to say hello, and then maybe you can show her around.”
He scrolls a little further, ignoring us for a long, awkward beat. And then finally he puts the phone face down on the desk. He looks up, eyes sunk into his leathery face, and gives me an assessing glance. “Zoe Carson,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “Twenty-eight years old, former figure skater, new hockey fan.”
“Not so new,” I insist before I can think better of arguing with my new boss on my first day. “I grew up at hockey rinks, where they only gave the figure skaters ice time when it was convenient.”
“So this is a grudge match?” he asks, bushy eyebrows rising.
I whip out my best ice-princess smile. “I’m here to help hockey players skate faster. Call it whatever you wish.”
He rises from his desk and holds out his hand, but it’s grudging. “Welcome. You’re a real trailblazer, Carson. Let’s hope the trail doesn’t lead us off a cliff.”
Almost too annoyed to respond, I give him a firm handshake. “Thank you,” I manage.
“The challenge will be for someone like you to command the players’ respect and attention,” he says.