Chapter 12 #2
After I check into The Extravagant hotel later that morning, I cruise through the casino on the way to the elevator, rolling my bag behind me, running through the PR stunt the Vegas team wants me to pull off tonight.
It’s not hard, and I’ll have time to practice it, but I’m a little lost in my head when a pretty voice hits my ears with its Texas drawl.
“If it isn’t the Scrappy Little Fashionista?”
The team owner knows my handle? I stop and turn around to say hello to the towering and powerful Jessie Rose. “Hi, Ms. Rose.”
“Good to see you, Ivy,” she says, then, wincing, she gestures to her red-soled shoes. “Personally, my Louboutins make me feel strong, but boy, do these suckers hurt. But what’s a gal to do when she needs some power pumps?”
“Actually, I have some ideas,” I say as a Star Trek slot machine next to us disappoints a man in a Hawaiian shirt.
Her deep brown eyes sparkle with interest. “Do tell.”
“Lily Greer,” I whisper, passing on the name like it’s a secret. “She makes seriously comfy alternatives that look just as good.”
Jessie looks like I just gave her the Holy Grail. “Where do I find these ruby slippers?”
“Online. I’ll send you some links.”
“Today, please,” she says, a clear order. Then, she gives me a quick appraisal, eyes landing on my leopard print top. “Hmm. Leopards? Do I want leopards as a possible team name?”
“Leopards are pretty amazing hunters. Very stealthy,” I say. “Plus, it’d be a cute mascot costume.”
“That is true,” she says, humming thoughtfully as if she’ll consider it.
But before she goes, she lifts a finger, like she’s just remembered something.
“By the way, your brother and his partners are coming to my golf event in a few weeks. They’ll be seated at my table.
I’ve just loved watching their love story unfold. ”
That warms my heart. “Thanks for letting me know and being so supportive.”
“Of course,” Jessie says, like there’s no other way to be.
When I’m up in my room a few minutes later, I send the team owner—the freaking team owner!—shoe suggestions.
With that done, I sit on the bed, grab my laptop, and use the next hour I have free to write for my newsletter about the best alternatives for established brands.
That calms me. I know fashion. I give good fashion tips. I’ll keep doing this and building my name, and I’ll move on from the Simone and Xander fiasco. I’ll use their wedding to grow my name, that’s all.
I quickly check my email and speak of the devil. There’s one from Xander, and one from Simone. Their wedding is key to my career goals. With a pit in my stomach, I open his first.
Simone told me you’re covering our wedding. I’m seriously proud of you! What an opportunity! You’ll do great!
I stare at it like it’s a message from a Martian. Who says those things? With so many exclamation points too. He’s proud of me for landing this prestige assignment by quitting?
I keep reading.
Maybe we can meet up soon, and I can tell you about some of my new business ventures?
Ohhhh. Of course. His email makes sense now. He wants me to mention his new ventures in their wedding coverage.
And the ick gets ickier. While I’m crawling with it, I click on a reply from Simone to my dress code query. Dress code is festive, she writes. Can’t wait to share more details when we meet soon!
I don’t actually want to read more about my ex-boss and my ex-boyfriend right now. I’ll come back to these later. I’m about to close out and get ready to head to the Sabers arena when I spot a new email.
Oh! It’s from one of the editors I wrote to.
The editor.
It’s from Birdie Michaels. She runs Your Runway, a popular site about adapting fashion trends and making them work for you. Holding my breath, I open it.
Dear Ivy,
Your pieces are sharp. Can you get me a story about the top five new looks in sustainable fashion by Wednesday?
Birdie
I light up like a neon sign on the Strip as I reply with a most enthusiastic yes.
I text Trina and Aubrey and tell them the good news.
I’ve been obsessed with her site for months.
Their replies are bursting with exclamation points.
I’m in the best of moods when I change and head to the Las Vegas Sabers arena.
* * *
Several hours later, the Avengers are winning, and I am tripping. And falling. And flailing.
All on purpose.
Good thing I wore knee pads under Blob. As circus music plays, I crawl along the ice in my purple costume, heart pounding as the Vegas tiger mascot skates circles around me on one leg, his other furry leg sticking out behind him.
The tiger looks all tough and tiger smooth while I look like, well, like a bulky letter A about to get demolished. But at the last minute, I comically—or so I hope—scramble to my feet and awkwardly—also on cue—rush off the ice with the tiger chasing me like I’m his last meal.
I finally make it to the tunnel, arms flapping, the crowd booing me off. Then, their mascot thrusts his orange and black striped arms in the air and glides around the oval, whipping up the home crowd.
I’m panting as I “escape,” finding Oliver, who high-fives me, palm to paw. “Good job,” he says.
The crowd loves it.
But it doesn’t do the trick of riling up the home team, since we destroy them.
Ha! Take that, tiger.
One of the guys I sat next to on the plane scored a goal.
So did the other. I’m especially ecstatic for Hayes, since he wants to prove himself, but I’m thrilled for Stefan too, which is a new feeling.
I’ve been to countless Avengers games over the last few years, rooting for my brother’s team, and I’ve witnessed plenty of Stefan’s goals.
But the goal the captain scored tonight gave me a little zing, especially since it came right after Hayes’s goal, and I was already on a high. It became a double high.
Or maybe a triple high since I’m still giddy about the Your Runway assignment. But there’s nothing to do with these feelings but bottle them up.
After the media session, I’ve packed up my costume and given it to the equipment manager, and I’m ready to flop down on my big bed in my hotel room. On my way down the corridor to the exit, I spot Hayes and Stefan.
They’re huddling by the corner, dressed impeccably in their suits once again, and I wish Hayes and Stefan didn’t look so good.
But…suits.
They aren’t alone. They’re with Dev and Brady. A woman with sleek black hair stands next to Brady. She’s sporting a matching ring.
“It’s Blob!” Dev calls out, even though I’m two feet in front of him. “We’re taking New Guy out to celebrate.”
He grips Hayes’s shoulder, like atta boy.
This is promising. I glance at Hayes. “New nickname?”
My wedding date shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But there’s the start of a smile on his face because it is a big deal. He’s moving beyond his first nickname, and that’s huge. He doesn’t answer, though, and I understand not wanting to jeopardize the fragile shift in status with the team.
Stefan nods, then points at me. “Yup. And since you’re the new guy, too, you’re coming with us.”
Wait. What? They want me to go with them?
“Captain’s orders,” Dev seconds in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Please come,” the woman next to Brady pipes in. “Then I won’t be the only estrogen there.” After a quick pause, she extends a hand. “I’m Kana. Brady’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you, Kana,” I say, but don’t yet commit to being the additional woman.
I look to Stefan first. He leans against the concrete wall of the corridor, all laid-back and easygoing like he’s just waiting for my yes or my no. But his blue eyes glint with something like…hope? Or maybe that’s opportunity flashing in his irises?
For a few seconds, I’m sure he’s up to something. Like “Captain’s orders” means he wants to give…other orders. The kind he might give in the bedroom.
My stomach swoops, and a low, tender ache deep inside grows more insistent.
I feel wobbly. Uncertain. But strangely excited too.
I turn my attention to Hayes, hunting for confirmation in his eyes.
Are there new guy orders, too, with this big group of hockey players and a wife? But Hayes’s expression is unreadable.
It’s up to me. Yes, I’m trying to avoid trouble of the man variety and that goes double for the double man variety.
I swallow, buying some time to figure out if I want to do this—hang out with two tempting men I work with. I mean, yeah. I really do.
It’s been a good day. I’m amped up from the good news about the writing assignment, and a night out feels like a reward rather than a pre-ward.
Plus, Dev, Brady, and Kana will be there as a buffer.
When in Vegas… “Let’s do it,” I say.