14. Reid
FOURTEEN
REID
Vegas in July is a horrible fucking idea.
I like winter. Snow and sleet and temperatures below one hundred and ten degrees. Not this heat wave that’s taken over the western United States and making my life a literal hell.
I’m drenched in sweat by the time I get to the convention center where the conference is taking place. With traffic and an Uber driver who got lost, there’s barely any time to shower and change out of my damp shirt before I’m sprinting downstairs, joining the long line of people waiting to check in.
“Name?” drawls a bored-looking woman when I reach the front.
“Reid Duncan.” I push my glasses up my nose and shove a pen behind my ear. “DC Titans.”
She flicks through the lanyards. “There you are. Social media.”
“That’s me.”
She hums and hands me the lanyard along with a crisp sheet of white paper. “There’s a list of events. The welcome presentation and keynote speaker start in twenty minutes, and attendance is required. After that, what you decide to do is up to you.”
“Who is the keynote speaker?” I ask. “It wasn’t listed on the website. I’ve checked the schedule every day for updates and haven’t found anything.”
“Do I look like I have that information?” she asks. “It’s above my pay grade.”
“Ah. I see. Thanks for all the help.”
I sidestep out of the way and make a beeline for the refreshments table at the back of the room, away from the crowd.
“Duncan!” I hear called out, and I turn around. I see Leo Michaels, the marketing manager for the Cincinnati Renegades, one of our division rivals, waving at me. He pushes through people until he reaches the charcuterie boards and fruit plates. “Dude. Good to see you.”
“Hey, man.” We clasp hands and bump chests. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Thought you got promoted.”
“I did. We’re short-staffed right now, and I didn’t have much of a choice about coming. With our QB constantly in the media, I swear to god my workload has tripled this offseason,” he says.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“A very good thing. Our investors are happy as shit, and so is my bank account. But it’s trash for my work-life balance. I’m up to my elbows in promotional campaigns and potential sponsorships. I didn’t know how hard creating slogans that combine football and pop music would be, and it keeps me up at night. I stare at the ceiling and try to figure out a word that rhymes with dazzle .”
I laugh. “That’s what happens when you go from a big fish in a small pond to a tiny fish in an ocean. When we won our first Super Bowl, I didn’t sleep for a week. I’m still lucky if I get five hours a night these days.”
“How’re your boys feeling about the preseason? Is everyone healthy? I saw Dallas got married. How was that?”
It was a blast. They’re all healthy so far, but we know how that’s going to go. The injury numbers are only going to increase if the league starts adding more games. I don’t know how Jett made it through eighteen weeks last season. His arm was toast by the playoffs. You all deserved the Super Bowl win.”
“Thanks for loaning the trophy to us,” Leo says. “I can’t believe you all signed Griffin Harrison. The guy’s a fucking legend. There’s no way you all don’t win the NFC.”
“I don’t know about that. The Thunderhawks snagging Malcolm Jeffries is really going to test us. This is the first season we’re playing them, and I’m going to lose my mind if I have to hear that song they use on social media all year.”
“Aw, come on.” Leo grins. “I love when they play the song. I’ll hear it in the tunnel after our own games and know they won. Our guys sing it, and sometimes I think our fans want us to lose just so they can see what video the Thunderhawks are going to use with the music on social media.”
I roll my eyes. “Not you too, Leo. The song literally just says Thunderhawks over and over. It’s not creative, and my goddaughter could come up with something better.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for good marketing.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “What panels are you sitting in on? We should try to link up for dinner this weekend.”
“I’m doing all the social media ones, but I’ll probably pop into a marketing seminar so I can hear things from your side. Let me know when you’re free, and we can grab a bite.”
“Maybe tomorrow. I ran into a woman who’s speaking this weekend, and I’m going to see if I can find her later. I want to ask her out for a drink.”
I snort. “Bold of you to mix business and pleasure. We know how that ends.”
“I’d risk it all for her, man. She’s a smoke show.” Leo pulls out his phone and groans. “I need to take this. The guy I work with in advertising is up my ass about a new project.”
“Do you still have my number?”
“Yeah. I’ll holler at you later. Have fun in there.”
Leo waves and presses the phone to his ear, disappearing around a corner. I grab a bottle of water then make my way into the large conference room. I find a spot in the back, a chair on the aisle close to the door so I can make an escape, and kill time by catching up on the group text messages I’ve been dragged into.
Puck Daddy
Did you make it Vegas okay?
Daddy Dallas
You have to let us know if they announce anything cool, Reid. I heard a rumor about special uniforms we’ll wear on holidays.
Puck Daddy
Of course they give you special jerseys. You guys only play 17 games and have a damn bye week. Gotta keep the fans interested where they can. Fucking snoozefest.
Daddy Dallas
I’m sitting two feet away from you and you’re going to talk shit, Maverick?
Puck Daddy
You know I love to talk shit.
*Attachment: 1 image*
Have fun, Uncle Reid! Wish you were here for our tea party!
I burst out laughing at the picture of Dallas, Maverick, Emmy, Maven, and June. All five of them are wearing fancy hats and smiling at the camera. June is holding up a teacup. Maverick is holding a half-eaten scone, and homesickness hits me.
I travel a lot during the season. I’m on an airplane or a football field more than I’m in my own apartment from August until February, but usually, my friends are with me.
When Maven isn’t working as the DC Stars team photographer, she and June are on the sidelines in their Titans gear, chatting my ear off during warmups and helping me pick what music to use over video clips.
Maverick comes to as many games as he can, and when he shows up, he brings half the hockey team with him.
I learned a long time ago family isn’t what you’re born into. It’s the people you pick up along the way. The friends in that photo are my family now, and I really fucking miss them.
Me
Looks like fun. We’ll have to have another party when I get home.
Puck Daddy
Don’t make too many friends, Plant Daddy. I don’t want to be replaced.
Me
You’re number one in my heart, Mav. Don’t tell Dallas.
Puck Daddy
Fucking assholes.
I silence my phone as a round of applause welcomes a woman on the stage in the front of the room. I sit back in my chair and get comfortable, wishing I had brought a pad of paper with me so I could doodle to pass the time.
“Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for joining us this weekend. My name is Meredith Knowles, and I’m the President of Marketing for the NFL. It’s an honor to be joined by you all today. We have an exciting weekend planned, and I hope that when you return to your teams, you’ll take home invaluable information that will help lift you to success as we approach the season.”
I cross my arms over my chest and hold back a yawn. Meredith goes through the usual rah rah rah stuff we hear at all of these events I’ve heard a dozen times. My head starts to lull until there’s another round of applause and I jolt awake, pretending to clap with the rest of the crowd.
“To kick off the conference, I’m going to turn it over to our keynote speaker. This woman is an icon in our industry, and everyone in this room knows her in some way, even if you don’t know her real name. She’s revolutionized the TikTok and Instagram game while helping her expansion team earn a record-setting profit. The Thunderhawks are lucky to have her, and we’re lucky to hear the insights she’s going to share with us. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”
You have to be shitting me.
I crane my neck, desperate to get a glimpse at the woman who’s been tormenting me for years. This is my first time ever seeing her, and I’m on the edge of my seat.
Someone climbs up the steps to the stage, and the blood drains from my face as I recognize who it is.
Brown hair and brown eyes. A bright smile and a soft laugh. That same hand she’s using to wave to the crowd was in my pants forty-eight hours ago, and I suck in a sharp breath.
Avery runs the Thunderhawks’ social media accounts?
Avery is who I talk to every day?
Avery drives me up a goddamn wall?
What the fucking fuck is going on?