Not A Chance (Heartstrings #2)

13. Indie

I was beginning to see why the reporters were always keen to follow Ryan Campbell around. The assistant captain could make even the most levelheaded person’s head spin.

While Connor had breezed through his feature interview the week prior, I understood why my boss had insisted I supervise when it was Campbell’s turn.

He sat with a reporter from The 49th , a nationwide hockey magazine, in the media conference room.

I hovered at the threshold of the room, as if I could have any impact on this interview if Campbell decided to take it off the rails.

“What would you say was the biggest motivator that helped you push your hockey game to the next level?” The reporter glanced down at his notes on his tablet.

That slip of attention made him miss the smirk on Campbell’s face, which he quickly schooled.

“The money. Definitely. I’m only here to make ten million,” Campbell replied, tone serious .

And there he went.

Caught off guard, the reporter opened and closed his mouth a few times, which made him appear as though Campbell’s answer had caused his brain to malfunction.

Perhaps I could have appreciated Campbell’s sense of humor if it wasn’t my job to make sure this interview reflected the image of a team that is committed to making it through the playoffs this season.

I liked to think of myself as a connoisseur of snark. Ryan Campbell was an artist. But at the moment, he was just making everyone’s jobs more difficult.

“Uh, well, I’ve… never heard an answer put quite so… succinctly before.” The reporter made a valiant attempt to steer Campbell away from the topic of money. “Most players talk about a coach or hockey hero that inspired them at a young age?” The man raised his eyebrows, eyes guileless.

“Yeah, no. It was always about getting rich for me.” Campbell put a bright smile on his face as though his comments weren’t completely impolite and designed to cause a reaction. “Sometimes, I’ll spend a whole evening just gazing lovingly at my banking app, watching my money grow.”

Campbell’s response had the reporter actually choking on his own saliva.

That was it! I made my way into the room, stopping behind the reporter and putting on my most saccharine smile.

“Well, look at that, Campbell.” I held up my left wrist, which was sans watch. “We’ve kept Grant here past your interview time. I’m pretty sure Coach needs you in his office.”

My grin was all teeth now. God, I’d have to tell Jermaine this interview would need to be seriously vetted. Campbell’s star power made him a fan favorite. He wouldn’t even get in trouble once Jermaine read the interview transcript. This kind of babysitting was way above my pay grade.

The only thing I had the power to do was get him out of this room ASAP.

Campbell’s eyebrows raised, followed by a slow grin. He clearly enjoyed messing with people too much. I just needed to get him out of this room so I could clean up his mess.

He looked at his own watchless wrist. “You know, Indie, you’re so right. I wouldn’t want to keep Coach Reyes waiting. I live to serve, after all.”

With the grace of a world-class athlete, he was up and halfway to the door before I realized it shouldn’t have been that easy with the high level of shenanigans he seemed to appreciate.

“Honey, by the way, what time should I expect you at home?” Campbell called over his shoulder before turning his head to give me a quick glance and a wink and continued out the door.

My only consolation was that Coach Reyes had left an hour ago. Two can play your game, Campbell.

The reporter’s gaze lasered in on my face, his former bland politeness replaced with a shrewd gleam.

“Sorry, what did you say your first name was, Ms. Layne?” He scrolled through his tablet, where he’d been making notes. “Any relation to Layne Holdings?”

Sigh. Campbell was from the East Coast; he wouldn’t immediately recognize my surname. It was much easier to avoid association with my family away from the Bay Area and the West Coast in general.

There was no point in lying as a single Google search would get Grant Douglas the truth.

“Yes. You’re right. That is my family’s company. But you need to understand something about Ryan Campbell. That man seems to derive too much joy from pranks like his comments just now. So you can’t take him seriously. He’s a dedicated, elite athlete. I can guarantee you, he gives his all to the Tempests. But there isn’t anything going on between us.”

“Oh, I see. No problem. Off the record. Of course.” Grant was nodding. As if he wouldn’t tuck this little detail away and use it to his advantage at a later date.

“No, honestly.” Rubbing my right temple to ease the headache that was now forming, I needed to make him understand. “When I say nothing is going on, I mean nothing. We don’t play around in my family with these kinds of things. Let me be clear. Ryan Campbell was just joking. And my personal legal team would be more than pleased if any other misunderstanding were to come up in the future. Now do you see?” I kept unwavering eye contact as he processed the meaning of my words.

No longer on the offensive, Grant was starting to understand who he was dealing with. I hated to be so mercenary about it, but I could not have any whiff of controversy getting back to my father.

Whatever lesson he thought he was teaching me by demanding I come to Toronto, I needed him to continue believing that I was absorbing it into the very core of my being. I didn’t want to end up in a battle for my inheritance when I wasn’t sure I could win.

And if that meant Mr. Douglas here had to be scared straight, then so be it.

Clearing his throat, he took the hint and moved on. “Er, right. Ahem. You mentioned you wanted to preview the questions for Theo Yao. I assure you, they are very similar to the ones you looked over for Mr. Campbell. Is it really necessary?”

If only he knew how much more important Theo’s interview was to me. Putting aside the many complications where Theo and I were concerned, it was the very least I could do for Emery to make sure her brother was well taken care of, especially when it fell under my purview at work.

“I understand. But my boss, Jermaine Kenton, you see, insists that I review all three players’ questions before their interviews. I was so appreciative of you sending me Connor Andrews’s list last week while I was out of the office. It’s important to be able to tell Mr. Kenton that I followed his instructions to the letter. You know how this kind of thing goes, don’t you? Can’t let the boss down.” The steel dropped from my tone into something more conciliatory.

It was more likely that Grant, here, would get whiplash from my swift change in demeanor than suddenly become my biggest fan, but Campbell had started this train wreck, and I was here to get it back on track.

I knew what I looked like, however. A young twenty-something woman in a male-dominated environment. Hopefully, in Grant’s eyes, that made me nonthreatening enough that he’d somehow forget that I threatened legal action moments before.

In appealing to the idea of “jeez, aren’t bosses just task masters,” we might find common ground, and it would pave the way for him to hand over Theo’s list of questions. Maybe I’d get lucky and he had a tyrannical editor and could sympathize with my false worries about my job security.

Whatever he saw on my face placated him enough to nod before looking down to tap out something on his tablet.

“I’ve just forwarded them to you. I’m going to make a quick call in the hallway. Mr. Yao isn’t due for another—” Grant checked his left wrist, where he wore an actual watch. “—twenty minutes. That should give us more than enough time to make sure Mr. Kenton’s requirements are satisfied. ”

I nodded distractedly as he stood and left the room, already opening his email to scan the interview questions.

Everything was fine until I reached the last section of questions.

-Theo, your full last name is Yao-Miller. Is there a specific reason you play only under your mother’s surname? Are you trying to honor your mother or stay away from your father’s standing as one of the top coaches in American College Football?

-How much did your mother’s passing away affect your decision to continue to move forward after you were drafted? Weren’t they within weeks of each other?

-How does your family feel about your move to Toronto? Your siblings, Emery, Chase, and Liam, how much did you see them when you were over in Vancouver compared to now?

The meaning of the words “spontaneously combust” had never been more clear to me than in this moment. I couldn’t recall a time when I’d been more livid.

And that was saying something because Abbie’s mother was an absolute bitch who incited my violent tendencies that I couldn’t act on.

Currently, I was in a new astral plane of anger. I wasn’t sure how much restraint I had if this reporter didn’t back down.

How dare anyone even think to ask Theo these questions? In preparation for their interviews, I’d skimmed through the majority of the previous articles written about the guys, having had no experience with what should or shouldn’t go into a hockey interview.

Theo never discussed his family or his personal life with the media.

Did this reporter think because they were the largest, most prestigious sports magazine in the country that he would be able to invade Theo’s privacy under the guise of documenting his “legacy”? Oh no. Think the fuck again, Grant Douglas.

The man himself sauntered back into the room, ready to resume his line of questions. He didn’t realize that the entire fabric of time and space had rearranged itself during his short phone call.

As Grant sat down before me, waking his tablet screen, he looked over at me. “Any concerns?” His tone was mild.

The out-of-line questions highlighted in black, I clicked Send to return his list to him.

“Yes. The last three. Out of the question. Those are not happening.” My tone left no room for argument.

Grant’s head jerked back with such force at the venom in my tone that he might need a visit to his chiropractor after our time together.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ah, the ever-present Canadian politeness. He used it now to cover what I was sure was his displeasure at a low-ranking communications employee daring to question his freedom as a journalist.

I was learning the nuances of Canadian speech now. His tone suggested he wasn’t sorry at all. There was a difference between real and fake “sorrys” in this country.

“Just what I said. Theo Yao’s personal life and family are off-limits. The same things you asked Andrews and Campbell are fine, but not the last section.” I watched him carefully to see which direction he wanted to take this conversation: defense or offense.

“I hardly think asking some simple questions about how his mother influenced his hockey career is problematic at this point. It’s been…” he said as he glanced down at his screen to scroll through his notes.

“Fourteen years.” I didn’t blink. If he wanted the exact days and hours, I could give him those too. Alice still made up a whole chamber of my heart, and she hadn’t even been my mom. I’d just been lucky enough to be loved by her as Emery’s best friend.

“Er, right. Nearly a decade and a half. Sure, I can see why it was avoided at the time. Mr. Yao was just some eighteen-year-old kid. But he’s nearing the end of his career—don’t you think it makes sense for him to share his thoughts with the fans? The Tempests only bought out the final year of his contract. They could extend, of course, but…”

“I’ll stop you there.” I’d had enough. There was no justification in existence that would change my mind, no matter what my boss or anyone else at head office said. While this was my task, Theo wouldn’t be answering these questions.

“Let me put it to you this way, Grant. Your career would be safer and better off printing the completely false narrative of Ryan Campbell and I in a romantic relationship than asking Theo Yao a single question outside of his opinions on how he’s liking the new team, what skills he’s perfecting this year, or their chances at the Cup. You need to reference his legacy ? Look up how many times he’s won the Vezina Trophy or how much money he’s raised for charity. That should cover it.”

Unable to sit in this room a minute longer, I stood. As I passed by Grant, still in his chair, I looked down to give him one more warning, making sure my tone left no doubt of my intentions should he upset Theo in any way.

“Anything else goes on in the next forty-five minutes and I will personally bring you a legal shitstorm of such magnitude you’d do best to tender your resignation and file for bankruptcy upon leaving this room. And that’s before I mention it to the GM and owner.”