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)
Bess turns to look at her client. “Chase,” she says meaningfully, as if prodding him to explain something specific.
But after a long moment, Chase gives his head a shake. “It was nothing. Just a bad night after a bad game.”
For the first time since I stepped into the room, Bess looks truly disappointed.
“All right, then,” Tremaine says, with a shake of his own head. “If that’s all it is, then I’m sure we can get past this with some goodwill and some skillful PR.”
“That’s where I come in,” Sailor says. “Every news outlet wants a statement. I’ll have that ready for Chase’s approval in the next two hours. I’ll also want him to post it on his own socials.”
“He doesn’t have socials,” Bess points out.
“He will by the end of the day,” Sailor says with a smirk. “And we can post new content every time he spends hours serving soup to the hungry and giving flea baths to rescue kittens. You guys can hire a social media manager, and the team will make the content.”
Bess glances at Chase, who nods sullenly. “Okay, but he gets approval for every post.”
“Fine.” Sailor nods. “After the apology, we’ll look for opportunities to highlight the more serious side of your personality.”
“Really?” The GM sighs. “Does Merritt have a more serious side?”
“I’m serious about hockey, no matter what you think,” Chase says, finally speaking up for himself. “I’ll string together a few good games, and then none of this will matter anymore. You watch.”
“I’m eagerly awaiting that development,” the GM grumbles. “In the meantime, you do everything Sailor tells you. We all have better things to do than sit around thinking about how to make you look like less of an asshole on Dumbstagram or DickTok. Now excuse me.” He rises. “Sailor—do your thing. And Merritt—your fine is due to me by Wednesday. I expect to read your apology statement while I’m sipping my first martini tonight.”
Then he exits the room as cheerfully as he entered it. Which is not very.
After he departs, I brace my elbows on the table and try to stay calm. But the words seven figures are still bouncing around in my head like shrapnel.
“So let’s hear your idea,” Bess says to Sailor.
I’m startled when the PR guru points at me. “Yesterday, our press release about Zoe got picked up by a flood of outlets. They loved her. So let’s run with it. Zoe will hold a one-on-one coaching session with Chase, and I’ll invite some journalists to observe them working together.”
“Oh,” Bess says, while my stomach twists. It will be stressful enough when I finally get Chase into a private session with me. I don’t need strangers watching.
“I love it,” Tremaine says, oblivious to my distress. “It’s a great photo op—Chase trying to keep up with Zoe on drills. She skates like a demon, man. Eat some protein before your session.”
Chase glances toward me. The flash of ocean blue is familiar, but the unreadable expression is not.
“So what do you say?” Sailor asks, clicking his pen a couple of times, in what might be a tic.
Bess glances at Chase, her eyebrows raised. “Sounds painless, don’t you think?”
I brace myself for him to argue the exact opposite. “Sure,” he says flatly. “If that’s what you want.”
“Awesome!” Sailor chuckles. “The press’ll eat it up. There’s nothing more fun than watching a top player take skating tips from a hundred-pound woman with a ponytail.”
Bess sighs. “I was with you until you used Zoe’s gender and body measurements to make your point.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sailor clicks his pen again. “My job is all about optics. I’m paid to put a spotlight on this stuff. And this would still be a good idea even if Zoe weighed in like a sumo wrestler.”
Bess shakes her head. “I do think a coaching session sounds like a low-stress way to get some good PR. But I notice you didn’t ask Zoe what she thinks of this idea.”
All eyes turn to me, and I do mean all of them. Even Chase’s piercing blue ones.
“Well, Zoe?” Sailor asks. “You’ll do it, right? You’re useful to us.”
You’re useful to us. For all the wrong reasons. And I’m so torn, because I know that Chase would rather have oral surgery than skate with me. On the other hand, I need to undo the harm that I’ve caused, if that’s even possible. And it would be nice to last a week at this job without being fired.
Plus, I want to fix Chase’s skating. No, I need to. “I’d love to do the session. Name the time.”
“Excellent,” Sailor says. “I’ll have details for both of you by tomorrow morning.”
Then the meeting is over, and Chase is the first one out of the room. Not that I blame the guy. As I get up to follow everyone out, seven figures still flashes in front of my eyes, like a bad cartoon.