Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Jack
I keep hoping Maggie will reach out. But one day turns into the next and turns into the next, and a week later I find myself at the Salmon again, hoping I might bump into her by chance again.
No such luck, though, and since I didn’t even bother to invite Connor to come with me, I end up being one of those sad sacks sitting alone at the bar. Not even Ryan’s working tonight, and I don’t know tonight’s bartender Jenna as well, nor do I feel comfortable complaining to her about my problems.
Once again I find myself in the position of just waiting—waiting for Max to work his magic, waiting to see if the breast cancer foundation will keep me on or drop me, waiting to see if Maggie will reach out to me this time.
She did say she’s busy, though. She has a kid, a dick of an ex, and an asshole of a boss. It’s understandable that I wouldn’t be anywhere on her priority list. Still, I was hoping …
Finishing my second beer, I signal to Jenna that I’m ready to close my tab and leave.
I might be forced into a waiting game with everything else—if Molly can’t convince Savage to post an official apology and retraction and Max can’t convince my sponsors not to drop me, I’ll be filing a law suit.
I’ve already reached out to the Emeralds’ legal team and they’ve cautioned patience just like everyone else.
If there are provable damages to my career, it’ll make my case stronger.
Honestly, I’d rather not have to go that route.
If he posts a retraction, I think that’ll help Max do his job.
But it’s possible the harm is done and no amount of apology or retraction will salvage my reputation in the public eye enough to make my sponsors happy.
But I don’t have to wait for Maggie to reach out to me. I could text her.
The idea of being seen with Maggie regularly helping to rehab my reputation floats into my head again.
It’s something proactive I could do.
Heading back to my car, I pull out my phone and send her a text.
Hey, stranger! What are you up to?
Feeling satisfied about taking action on something , I pocket my phone, get in my car, and drive home without checking to see if she’s responded. But by the time I’m in my condo, I can’t not look.
To my delight, she has.
Maggie
Momming. You?
Momming?
Yeah, you know. Being a mom. Doing mom things.
Sounds like fun
It’s a thrill a minute around here
Any chance I could tempt you into taking a break from momming sometime soon? This weekend, maybe?
This time it takes her a lot longer to respond, and I stare at my phone as the three dots showing she’s typing appear and disappear a few times before tossing my phone aside in disgust and going to my room to change into athletic shorts.
No need to stay in the jeans I put on to go out when I’m home for the night.
When I get back to my phone, the only text I have is from Connor.
Connor
You done moping about the bad interview? There’s a guest DJ at Vault tonight. We should go check it out.
Pass. I’m not moping. I’m salvaging my reputation. We’ve been over this
I don’t know why you thought going on that douchebag’s show was a good idea. Have you watched his interviews? They’re all terrible.
They’re not all terrible
Besides, Molly set it up. She vetted the guy and said it would be good for me.
Ouch. I bet Molly feels terrible about that
Well, enjoy your night jacking off in your living room. Let me know when you wanna go out again!
Fuck you
You too!
Chuckling, I reopen my text exchange with Maggie, I guess hoping she’ll get the psychic vibes that I’m waiting for an answer.
It seems to work, though, because she finally responds a few seconds later.
Maggie
As fun as that sounds, I’m not sure when or how to make that work. I did have a nice time, but I wasn’t lying to you when I said I don’t get a lot of time off.
I get it. If you come across any free time, though, let me know.
I leave it at that, recognizing when pushing more won’t get me a positive reaction.
Her response shouldn’t be a surprise, and it’s not really, but it is disappointing.
I know other parents, and they still get time off.
But I guess the parents I know are people like Nick Abernathy, the team captain, who has a nanny.
That has to make things easier. For someone like Maggie—a single mom working full time?
I’m not sure where her kid goes while she’s at work during the summer, but I’m guessing it’s somewhere that costs money.
And with a deadbeat dad, she probably wants to prioritize time spent with her kid over entertaining me.
Sometime after ten, my phone rings, and I grab it, wondering if something bad happened. No one ever calls me this late—well, not unexpectedly, anyway.
But it’s Maggie. Grinning, I answer and put it on speaker. “Hey! Did you find some free time in the middle of the night?”
She chuckles. “Not exactly. Free enough to talk on the phone if it’s not past your bedtime.”
“I don’t turn into a pumpkin until well after midnight. I’ll be up for a while. What’s up?”
“Would you be interested in lunch? If you’re serious, I mean. I know it’s not the same as a whole evening, but …”
“Lunch sounds good. Tomorrow?”
She sounds relieved and happy when she responds. “Yeah. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.” She suggests a place to meet, and I look it up to see where it is.
“That sounds perfect. Noon work for you?”
“Let’s say eleven thirty.”
“Awesome. See you then.”
I show up at the restaurant she picked—a little sandwich shop not far from her office—feeling unaccountably nervous.
It’s silly. I know it. It’s not like this is a blind date or something, and even if it were, I’m Jack fucking Bouchard. Women fall all over themselves to get my attention.
And I guess that’s the kicker here, isn’t it?
Maggie isn’t falling all over herself. She seems like she’d be just fine if I paid her no more attention at all.
Except … would she really? This is the woman who didn’t know what to do with herself when she had a night off because she so rarely prioritizes herself and hasn’t in at least a decade, probably quite a bit longer than that based on her description of her ex.
A lunch date is the closest she can get to making time for herself, and honestly? That just makes me sad.
She’s a gorgeous woman who’s funny and interesting with a love of new experiences if our paint night is anything to go by. She should be able to have some fun once in a while.
That more than anything has firmed my resolve to convince her to see me regularly. Even if she has no romantic feelings for me, we can be friends, she can help rehab my reputation, and I can help her have some fun. We both win, as far as I can tell.
And if money for a babysitter is an issue, I’m happy to help out with that too.
Walking in, I look around and realize I’m here first. It’s counter service, so I claim a table and settle down to wait for her. Pulling out my phone, I discover a text.
Maggie
Sorry! I’m coming, but Brock’s being his usual charming self. I’ll be about 15 mins late
No worries. I’m here. Want me to order for you so your food’s ready when you get here?
It takes a few minutes for her to respond.
OMG, that would be amazing. You sure you don’t mind?
I wouldn’t have offered if I minded. Send me your order. I’ll get our food. Get here as soon as you can
It doesn’t take long for her to respond with her order, and I stand and get in line.
While I’m waiting, a guy around my age who’s standing in front of me glances behind him, then does a dramatic double take.
“Wait. Aren’t you …?” He covers his lower face with his hand and stares at me before dropping it and saying.
“You’re Jack Bouchard, right? The Seattle Emeralds? ”
Smiling, I nod. “I am.”
“Can I get a picture, bro?”
“Sure. Always happy to meet a fan.”
He pulls out his phone and steps back next to me, holding it up at an angle and giving the camera what I think is supposed to be his smoldering look while I smile like a normal person. “Thanks, man. This is awesome. How’d your coaches react to you tanking the playoffs?”
My smile transforms into a scowl. “Well, since I didn’t tank the playoffs, the coaches didn’t have any specific reaction to me, personally.
We were all disappointed to have lost, but it was no one person’s fault.
” Though I could make the argument that it was Locke’s fault.
He’s the goalie who let in three goals, after all.
But then, you could easily argue that our defense should’ve kept them from getting that close to the net that many times.
Or we could’ve—should’ve—taken more shots on goal and maybe would’ve lit the lamp enough times to win.
“Oh, right, right, of course, of course.” He winks at me like we’re sharing some kind of joke. “I get it. Gotta stick to the script in public and all.”
My scowl deepens. “That interview was pitched as a retrospective of the difficulties and victories on the road to the Stanley Cup. I was there to represent one team that made the playoffs with the understanding that multiple teams would be interviewed and represented in the final video. Brock Savage changed his tactic at the last second, splicing together old footage, taking sentences out of context, and using creative editing to make me look bad. This isn’t me sticking to a script. It’s me telling the truth.”
He holds up his hands as though he’s surrendering, but his face says he doesn’t believe a word of what I’m saying.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I stop engaging, ignoring whatever else he says and grateful when it’s his turn to get to the counter.
And I’m even more grateful that he takes his order to go because I’m not sure I’d be able to stay in the same building with this asshole.
I wouldn’t bail on Maggie, of course, but I might have to get our food to go and find a park or somewhere to meet her instead.
But none of that is needed, and if anyone else recognizes me, they leave me alone. I’m sitting at the table, sipping my soda when Maggie gets here, all smiles and looking frazzled like she was blown here by a gust of wind.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she starts, the words coming out like a flood.
“I’ve been scheduling interviews for Brock to find a new assistant so he stops trying to make me do that job as well as my actual job, and it’s been …
” She finally pauses, screwing up her face as she searches for a word.
“Hell?” I supply, grinning, all my irritation at the selfie bro melting away now that Maggie’s here.
Chuckling, she shakes her head. “You said it, not me.”
Leaning in, I lower my voice to a loud whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s recording our conversation, so you can rag on your boss all you want. I promise I’ll never tell on you.” I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key, and she laughs again. I really like making her laugh.
“That man takes up enough of my time as it is. Much as he might deserve it, I don’t want to devote any of my precious free time to him, even if it is to call him names.” She picks up her sandwich and takes a big bite. “Thank you so much for this.”
“My pleasure.” We both eat in relative silence for a moment, and I mentally review my idea of asking her to commit to going out with me several times in a bid to rehab my reputation.
That guy—I don’t know if I can really call him a fan given his opinion of me—makes me wonder if it’s a good idea or not. Would it even make a difference?
Maggie looks at me, raises an eyebrow, then narrows her eyes at me as she takes a sip of her soda. “What?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” She sets down her sandwich and picks up her napkin, wiping her mouth.
Grinning, I shake my head. “No, no. Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at you and make you feel weird. It’s just … uh, I wanted to ask you a question.”
Her expression turns even more wary. “Okay,” she says slowly. “What’s your question?”
I pause. Am I really doing this? But my plays here are limited.
And even if I sue her boss for defamation, that won’t alter public opinion.
I need to do something that puts me in the public eye in a positive way, that makes me look good to people so that they forget about my party-loving past. I need a public apology from her boss that gets picked up by all the major networks too, but I need to help with my own reputation rehab.
Decided, I lean forward. “I have a proposition for you.”