Chapter 5 Ben
five
Ben
Lukas showing up was both a blessing and a curse.
It was great to have a live audience, even if it was just him, but dear god, the man is too sexy for his own good. It’s like he emits sex hormones custom-designed for me, and I’m perpetually wanting to rip my clothes off every time we’re in the same room.
Rushing into my bathroom, I clean myself up the best I can without an actual shower and return to my office, where I brought a fresh button-up shirt and dress pants to change into.
Last night I told James how odd it was to keep meeting this PR gal in the evenings, and he agreed, but I’ve never dealt with professional sports teams, so maybe it’s common.
Either way, I need to get to the waterfront for this meeting and hopefully sign a contract to get performing for an audience again.
With time to spare, I parked on the street and made my way up the giant office tower elevator to Suite 815.
The suite’s door stands open, and Christine, the marketing director for the local hockey team, the Bloomburg Aspens, sits behind her desk.
With a soft knock, I enter the office. “Christine? Hi.”
“Ben.” She stands and motions to the chair across from her desk. “Come in. Thank you so much for being flexible and meeting me this evening.”
I settle into the chair across from her and smooth my shirt. A sudden case of nerves settles over me. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a job interview.
“You’re welcome. I’m usually put together better than this, but I had a class I couldn’t cancel, and I rushed over as soon as it finished.”
She waves her hand while opening a file folder.
“It’s quite all right. I inconvenienced you after all. And I don’t want to keep you any longer, so if you don’t mind, let’s get right to business.”
Christine is all smiles as she slides a sheet of paper towards me, and the first thing I notice is the dollar amount. Wow. It’s considerably more than when we first talked.
“After discussing with a few other teams that have mascots, it was determined that the pay we were offering was grossly under the market rate. Your pay would be split into even weekly or monthly payments, whatever you prefer.”
She flips to the next page, and it’s a game schedule. It’s nicely colour-coded for home and away games, and there’s a little picture of a beaver on some blocks. It’s definitely cute.
“Obviously, you need to attend every home game as Slappy. We expect you to interact with fans in the stands during the game as well as entertain during at least one intermission. We’d prefer it to be during the second intermission to encourage people to stay and watch you.”
“And what are the days with the beaver on them?”
She smiles and folds her hands in front of her.
“Community events. The new ownership group feels strongly about involving the team more with the community and families. We want Slappy in the community to promote the game days as family affairs. Family bonding, making memories and hockey. More people in seats means more people eating concession food and buying souvenirs.” She pushes her chair back from the desk with a giant grin. “Which reminds me!”
Christine reaches down and plops a gift bag on the desk. “Go ahead. Look inside.”
I peer inside and pull out several layers of green and white tissue paper. Among all the tissue in the team-coloured gift bag are various beaver-themed souvenirs.
A stuffed beaver wearing the team jersey. A T-shirt with the beaver angrily chewing a hockey stick and the phrase, Beavers don’t bite, they destroy. That one makes me chuckle.
There’s even a puck with the team logo and a beaver.
But it’s a lot of pressure to know that selling this stuff hinges on my popularity. While I can perform without an issue, I’ve never had to bond with people while doing it or hope they stop at the merchandise table on their way out.
What if they don’t like me as a beaver?
“So, ah, I’ve done some reading on mascots. Am I the only Slappy, or will there be others?”
“We would normally consider at least two of you, but I’ve researched you, Ben.
I know you were a talented circus performer.
Your routines are amazing. You still practice at your studio, and we will accommodate as best we can, by the way.
We didn’t want to have to pay less to have two people in the suit.
We want you and the uniqueness you can bring to the role.
” Christine leans forward. “No other AHL team has a mascot performing intricate shows during intermission. They might even buy a ticket just to see you for seven minutes.”
It’s good for my ego to hear someone say they want only me and recognize my talent. I won’t lie about that.
“What if I can’t make a game? Maybe I’m sick or hurt?”
“We hope that doesn’t happen, but of course, we understand. You’d contact me as soon as possible so we could reschedule the entertainment for that game.”
“Can I have a minute to read over all this?”
“Of course. I’ll step out and give you a few minutes.”
Christine exits the office, and I shift in the chair with the papers.
It’s a lot more work than I thought it would be.
Community events? There are four alone in the coming weeks, with a note about pre-season and building anticipation.
There’s also one more each month, with a note that should the team make the playoffs, there will be more games to appear at, and my compensation would be paid per appearance.
Which means, should the team do well, I’d make even more money along with a bonus if merch sales hit targets.
A performance bonus, I suppose, and that’s extra incentive to do this job well.
If this were my full-time job, I’d be thrilled. It’s a great wage. But as much as I yearn to perform, I don’t want to always be in a beaver suit doing it. My yoga and silks studio is what I want to grow. Maybe put together a local acrobat show and mentor kids for the circus.
But it’s only a year out of my life to do this and land a nice chunk of change doing something that, on the surface, seems fun.
I’m not a hockey fan, but I can learn to like it, can’t I?
Seems like a small sacrifice to make to earn money to keep my business going and maybe move out of my best friend’s office.
It’s not until I get to the last pages of the document with the rules of conduct that I sit up and pay attention.
The individual who plays the part of Slappy the Beaver shall, under no circumstances, reveal their identity to players, friends, family, fans, or the public. Should you do so, immediate dismissal will be enforced.
“How are you making out?” Christine returns with a garment bag and hangs it on the back of the office door. “Questions for me?”
“How come I can’t tell anyone it’s me in the suit?”
“Mascots never reveal their real identities. Kind of like Superman.” She laughs before being serious again. “You can’t because we like to keep the air of mystery. If your identity were revealed, then you’d gain personally, which is not the point.”
“I already teach classes here, though, and many of my students know my background. If they go to a game, they’re going to know it’s me. Especially if you want me performing acrobat routines.”
Christine nods. “True. We thought of that, and should someone ever ask directly, you simply don’t answer to confirm. Some people will figure it out eventually, but we don’t want you to volunteer the information or ever confirm it. Just leave them to their thoughts.”
“What if I already told someone about it?”
She frowns. “Well, since you weren’t under contract, I can’t hold it against you. But I implore you to make sure they keep their lips sealed.”
Not that I want to scream to all who can hear, ‘Hey! I play a beaver at hockey games,’ but it seems like a detail people close to me should know about. Like Lukas. I don’t feel right keeping this from him if we keep…doing whatever it is we’re doing.
“And what if I date someone? That’s still a no?”
Not that Lukas and I are dating, but if we were, I’d rather be upfront about why I can’t meet him on a Tuesday night at 8 P.M. than lie.
“We’d allow a spouse by legal marriage, but simply dating someone? No, this is to be a secret, Ben. It’s part of the thrill for people. Not knowing who the mysterious beaver is.”
Christine frowns again at my silence. “That part is nonnegotiable, Ben. I can budge on nearly everything else but that.”
A year of my life essentially being forced into a closet and not revealing myself.
It feels like high school all over again, and I’m struggling with myself to accept this part of the contract.
But the money…Surely I can keep a secret for less than a year?
Nine months minimum, and take the pay. A year of two jobs, great income, and keeping a secret.
I can do this.
Besides, Lukas is just casual. We haven’t even gotten to the getting to know you part. We have amazing sex together, and that’s likely all it ever will be. If we’re casual, then there’s no big deal. It’s not a secret. It’s just withholding information that’s not important.
That makes sense. Right?
Keep seeing Lukas and play the beaver. Get a pay cheque.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
Christine claps her hands together.
“You won’t regret it, Ben. There’s an opportunity to be had. Lots of perks if the team does well.” She hands me a pen, and I sign all the documents. After giving me a copy, she stands. “Want to see the costume?”
“Yes, of course!”
The garment bag she carried in earlier is unzipped, and there it is.
Slappy the beaver suit is brown and fuzzy with a tight-fitting T-shirt emblazoned with the team logo over its chest. The head is large and snaps into place under the collar of the suit.
It might be hard to do any acrobatics in that head, but I’ll see what I can do. However, the tail is a bigger concern.
It’s huge and very stiff.
“Uh, so I’m not sure what kind of performing I can do in this thing, Christine. That tail is…well, it’s big.”
“I thought you might say that. I’ve already cleared with management; you can alter the entire suit as needed as long as your identity remains a secret.”
“Really? That’s good. I’ll test it out at the studio right away. Do you have a contact I can use for alterations?”
“Our equipment guy. He sews all the jerseys.” She hands me a card. “You’re part of the team too, so he’ll get whatever you need done.”
We shake hands, and I exit the building with the garment bag, a bag of beaver souvenirs and a copy of the contract I signed.
I just signed a contract to play a beaver.
There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. Including doing a tumbling sequence with a giant tail.
After stuffing the bag into the back seat, I head back to my studio, mind constantly spinning, conjuring scenarios of what I can do without damaging the suit or me.
Christine handed me an envelope with contact names of people I could reach out to for help along with the equipment manager, and the list was short.
Other than him, who can deal with any costume issues, I could also reach out to Landon.
He’s an athletic trainer for the team, and should I need any attention for injuries, I’m to see him. Especially if I’m still in costume.
So that’s it. Christine, George the equipment guy, and Landon.
Oh, and James, since I sort of told him prior.
Remaining mute while performing will be fine.
It’s not talking about the job that will be hard.
I get excited for routines and shows, and other than tripping on this tail, the biggest worry I have is accidentally spilling the beans.
With that in mind, when I arrive at the studio, I pull the blind down on the door in case someone comes by and I don’t notice. Like the way Lukas seems to sneak up on me.
Honestly, I should ditch the costume and call him to come back. I wanted nothing more than to feel the naked slap of our skin again, but the call of designing a routine is like a siren’s song, and I can’t ignore it.
Stripping down, I pull on a pair of yoga pants before zipping myself into the beaver suit.
“Good lord, I’m gonna sweat buckets in this thing. I hope they have a dry cleaner on retainer.”
Faux fur and spandex are not what you call breathable materials. I’ll definitely need to wear as little as possible under this thing.
With an ice surface or floating floor as my future stage, I begin the process of discovery about what I can manage in this suit.
Turns out it’s quite limited, but I’ve had to alter costumes before, and with a bit of a change, Slappy the Beaver will bring his A-game to every appearance. After making some notes about music and routines, I grab the phone number list.
Now I just hope this equipment guy knows his stuff and gets it done in time for Slappy’s first public appearance.