Chapter Three
Remus: I can’t wait to see you in two days, Lucia.
Iscowl at the unwelcome reminder about lunch with my cousin. Despite knowing better, my fingers keep dancing across my phone’s keyboard, typing out message after message, explaining that I’m buried in work and don’t have time. But I don’t send any of my objections. To object is futile, I know this. That’s why I’m smart enough not to even try.
Not only has he sent me reminders via text, he also randomly changed the background picture on my work laptop to a lone wolf, sent me a scarf with wolf paws, and a box of what looked like tufts of fur. Talk about over-fucking-doing it.
After checking the time, I start gathering my things and shutting down for a quick break. It’s much earlier than I usually have my dinner, but I’m starving and need to clear my head.
“There you are.” I gasp out in surprise as Jo walks up to my desk. She twirls a finger through her blonde hair as she eyes my laptop that’s already shut. “Are you leaving already?”
I’m not sure how to answer her. I mean, yes, obviously I’m leaving. But she’s never paid much attention to when we’re leaving the office as long as we do our job. “Just to get something to eat,” I clarify. “I already finished—”
She holds up her perfectly manicured hand. “Normally, it would be fine, Lucia. But I came by to tell you that the meeting tomorrow evening, the one you asked Nick to take instead of you, has been changed to in an hour and Tom wants you there.”
I’m surprised to hear the GM wants me there specifically. “Why?”
Shrugging, she runs a finger across my desk. “Tom changed his mind,” she replies, which isn’t really answering why he wants me there. But I’ll overlook that. This isn’t like our GM. Normally, he’s a stickler for keeping appointments, and only changes things like this if he has to.
“Okay,” I say, unsure what else I can respond with.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Jo says, pulling at her tailored suit jacket. “I only came by to let you know so you can be prepared.”
I swallow down the urge to snort. Prepared? I’m not sure how prepared I can be in less than an hour. “Thank you,” I say, schooling my expression. “Oh, is there any news on Sawyer?” I ask.
Having the first game commemorated by a scorned husband showing up and causing a scene is beyond messed up. But to make matters worse, with Sawyer’s arrest yesterday, we don’t know much. Or, at least I don’t. I have a feeling that Jo knows more than she lets on since the Sabertooths’ legal team has been working constantly to get him out.
“Tom will give us all an update during the meeting,” she answers. Leaning closer, she lowers her voice. “Since you work on his account, you should know that the legal team and Tom are still working on getting him out. Plus, Tom’s had to smooth the waters of the entire NHL, as well as our sponsors.”
I let out a sigh. “How bad is it, Jo?”
“From a legal perspective, I don’t know. From ours, it could be worse.” I arch an eyebrow, but Jo just smiles. “As much as it sucks that the entire thing was broadcasted live, it was also Sawyer’s saving grace. Everyone knows he was provoked, attacked. There can be no doubt about that. Though, knowing it doesn’t excuse his overreaction…”
“But it explains it,” I supply when she trails off.
“Exactly,” she beams. “And if we focus on the charities, we might be able to turn it around.”
I get the feeling there’s something she’s very deliberately not telling me, but I already know that it won’t help to ask more questions. Jo isn’t head of PR for nothing. She knows exactly what to divulge and what she needs to keep to herself to get the outcome she wants. It’s part of why I like her and respect her so much. She never asks for something she wouldn’t do herself, and she’s very dedicated to the people on her team.
She only hangs around for a few more minutes. But it’s enough to give me a few hints about what the meeting with the GM will be like. He doesn’t want here and now solutions; he wants a long-term plan and for us to find a way to rehabilitate Sawyer Perry’s image.
“Oh, it’s almost time,” Jo exclaims after checking her phone. “Do you mind grabbing me a coffee and brownie from the cafe?”
I look at the time. “I don’t think I can make it there and back on time,” I object weakly. Although it’s in the building, it’s not on the same floor. And there’s usually always a long line in the cafe at this time. Everyone working late needs their next coffee fix at the same time.
Jo smiles widely. “For that coffee and those brownies, it’s worth being a little late.”
“Okay,” I agree. Then I grab my coat and bag and leave the office. My mouth is already watering by the thought of biting into one of those brownies. Jo’s right, they’re worth being a little late.
Luckily, there’s no line at the elevators on my way down or up, and after promising never to do it again, the guys in line at the cafe allowed me to move in front of them when I explained I couldn’t be late for my meeting with Tom. I guess it helps that most know what’s going on, and the severity of the situation.
As I ride the elevator, I check my appearance in the shiny walls, happy that I don’t look as flustered as I feel. Being part of Jo’s team means always looking our best, something she takes very seriously. Superficial as it might be, I get it. We’re selling the image of the Sabertooths and the players, which means we have to look our best.
Once the doors open, I rush out and along the corridor to the room. I reach the door at the same time as Jo and our GM do, which technically means I’m on time. But the disapproving look in Jo’s eyes tells me she considers me late, which is rich since she sent me on the coffee and brownie errand.
“Hi,” I chirp, holding out her cup and the small container with the brownie.
She takes the items from my outstretched hand. “Nice to see you’re on time,” Jo sniffs, making it sound like I’m prone to being late. Newsflash, this is the first time I’m not showing up at least half an hour before I’m supposed to be somewhere.
“Hi there. Lucia, right?” the GM, also known as Tom Redding, asks while holding out his hand.
Meeting his blue eyes, I shake his hand while nodding. “Yes sir. I’m Lucia Carter.”
Even wearing killer stilettos, I’m used to feeling small around the players. And with Tom, it’s no different. He’s at least six-two and in good shape. Though he’s older, which is evident by his salt and pepper hair, he takes good care of himself. But above all of that, he smiles more than most, so it’s never intimidating to be near him.
He scans the room behind me. “I like your work on our team’s social media accounts,” he says, surprising me. “You’ve made it more relatable and I hear that fans are interacting more.” He beams at me.
Well damn, I never thought the GM looked that close at what we do. I mean, I obviously know Jo and the other executives scrutinize everything, but it never occurred to me that the GM is personally looking at it as well. “Umm, thanks?” I want to slap myself when it comes out as a question rather than an appreciative statement.
“Right, yes,” Jo says, still staring daggers at me. “Lucia is one of our best PR account executives. She has an eye for detail and is very good at researching the trends.”
I am fucking fuming. She’s making it sound like I’m just copying shit rather than spending an ungodly amount of hours doing research before finding ways to tweak the trends to fit the Minneapolis Sabertooths.
“Keep up the good work,” Tom says, smiling encouragingly. “Now, let’s get this meeting started.”
Walking into the room, I try to remain poised and not let on that I feel Jo’s heated eyes burrowing into my back. Really, what’s her problem? I don’t want to sound all full of myself, but I thought she liked me. I do a good job and work my ass off without ever asking for credit. Hell, I’ve never even asked for a raise or a vacation day. Just like I’ve never called in sick.
“Are you okay?” Nick, one of the senior executives, asks. “It’s not like you to be late.”
I suppress the need to roll my eyes. “I wasn’t late,” I whisper. “And yes. I’m good.” Today is clearly not my day at all, and I don’t like how everyone seems to notice it. Just as I don’t like how sourly I come across when Nick has done nothing to earn my attitude.
Luckily, I’m spared from more small talk when Jo slides into the seat next to me, and our GM stands at the end of the table. “Good evening everyone. I’m glad you could all be here on such short notice,” Tom says. I’ve never interacted much with the man, which makes me all the more curious as to why he wanted me here. Usually, he gives his orders to Jo, who then briefs us on what we need to know to do our jobs. “I’m not going to sugarcoat the shitstorm we’re facing or pretend it isn’t all due to one player.”
While he gives us a quick rundown of what he expects from today’s meeting, I pull my laptop out of my backpack and start typing notes.
“Sawyer Perry is our strongest player. I don’t have to remind you about his record-breaking goals from last season,” Tom says, looking at all of us. “But I’m not blind to the PR nightmare that follows him, or the hard work you’ve suffered because of him. And that’s why I thought it was time we all talked together. Because whatever we’ve done up to now is clearly not enough.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether or not I should speak up. If Tom wasn’t here, I’d never hesitate. But he is, and I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to draw more attention to myself. Then again, he’s clearly asking for help, and this is part of my job.
“Maybe it would help to talk to Sawyer,” I suggest, my mouth working of its own volition and completely ignoring my brain that’s begging for it to stop drawing attention to us… me.
“To what end?” Tom asks, sounding curious.
“Can I speak freely?” I ask, looking up in time to see the GM nod encouragingly at me. “So far, most of his scandals have been about… indulgence.” My cheeks heat at the thinly veiled reference to sex. I’m far from a shy virgin or prudish. In fact, I make sure my vagina is happy and satisfied, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t awkward to discuss in a professional meeting. “But yesterday, he publicly beat the guy who accused him of sleeping with his wife.”
Another woman nods eagerly. “It seemed like the guy got under his skin.”
Despite Sawyer’s image as the bad boy of the Minneapolis Sabertooths, there’s no denying the incident from last night was different altogether. It wasn’t about him being drunk and belligerent, or being caught with his hand up some puck bunny’s skirt.
Not only was I there, watching it as it happened, but from the clip I’ve watched over and over, it’s clear the scorned husband appeared out of nowhere. And he’s the one who confronted Sawyer, even threw the first punch. The forward wasn’t the one to start the fight, but he damn well made sure he ended it.
“Our legal team is assuring me that Sawyer will be out tonight,” Tom says. “And then they want him for most of the day tomorrow. But if you think it’ll help to talk to him, I can ask him to come by after lunch. What do you think, Jo?”
Jo nods thoughtfully. “It can’t hurt. But if we’re working with him, I would feel better if we have some suggestions on how to repair his image at the ready.”
“Excellent,” Tom says. Then he pulls out the chair at the end of the table and sits down. “I want to hear everyone’s ideas. We need a way to keep his image squeaky clean for the rest of the season. Most of our sponsors are married and don’t want to be associated with a man in his thirties acting like an out-of-control teenager.”
Some of the women trade looks that make it clear they don’t see Sawyer’s behavior as a problem. I guess that’s what happens when you have the luxury of thinking with your vagina instead of your brain. I’m not going to deny his wow factor and hotness, which he has plenty of. But where most of the women in the PR department find that enough to overlook his flaws, I’ve been more focused on his flaws. Probably because I’m the one who has to deal with them and smooth things over on his socials every time.
In another life, yeah, I’d totally join them in their swooning. Sawyer is the epitome of a hockey God, and he has the intense eyes, chiseled jaw, and abs that just beg to be licked to prove it. But in this life, I find him nothing but a sad cliche. I come from a family that’s big on rules, hierarchy, and discipline. So seeing an adult acting like the rules of his contract are beneath him, like he’s taking pleasure in breaking as many as possible, is… odd. Since he’s not a teenage boy—as Tom put it—but a grown man at thirty-two, it’s incredibly sad.
The hours fly by and it’s almost 10pm when Nick says, “It sounds like we keep coming back to the same problem, and if you ask me, there’s a simple solution.”
“Which is?” Tom asks, rolling his hand in the air to indicate Nick should explain his thought.
“We need him to have a steady partner—”
One of the women sniggers, “Sawyer isn’t exactly steady relationship material.” She doesn’t say what we all know; he’s the kind to fuck you and leave you, not hang around for cuddles and breakfast in the morning.
Unbothered by the interruption, Nick goes on. “It doesn’t have to be real. But it will improve his image and hopefully make him more relatable and likable to the investors. It would also limit all the damage control we constantly have to do on his social media accounts.”
When Nick stops talking, the room’s so quiet you’d be able to hear a pin fall onto the carpet. It’s as though we’re all holding our breath, waiting for Jo and Tom to weigh in and either shut down the suggestion, or run with it. I’m not sure which would be better. Yes, constantly having to monitor Sawyer is ridiculous, but at the same time, I don’t relish the idea of having to interview candidates to be his fake girlfriend.
Tom looks down at his phone, silencing it when it vibrates again. “Is it doable?” he asks, turning to look directly at Jo.
“Yes, but—”
He shakes his head when his phone begins to vibrate again. “Jesus,” he mutters as he furiously types out something. “I have to go. Sawyer’s been let out, and the lawyers need me. We can discuss logistics later or tomorrow. But is it possible? Can it be done?”
“I suppose so,” Jo says, straightening in her chair. “But where would we even start to look?”
The GM’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Within your team, of course. In this room are some of the people who scrutinize him the most. You’re all constantly watching his every move and spinning every word he says into gold. Plus, if it comes from within, we can claim it was kept secret to avoid a conflict of interest within the Sabertooths’ family.” He stands abruptly and claps his hands together. “I like it. Make it happen. I want three candidates in my email before you go home.”
As soon as Tom leaves, Jo takes the seat at the end of the table, and I use the opportunity to create some space between myself and Nick. He’s a nice guy and with his sharp suit, shaggy sandy hair, and dimpled smile, he’s very good looking. It’s not exactly a hardship to sit next to him. But he’s also let his interest be known at every single opportunity—most of which he’d make sure to create—and that makes it awkward to sit that close.
“Okay, I want names,” Jo says, moving over to the whiteboard and holding a pen between her fingers, ready to write.
“Can we suggest ourselves?” one of the women asks, unable to keep her snigger out of her tone.
Jo rolls her eyes. “You can suggest whoever the fuck you want. But this is work, not pleasure. Whoever Tom ends up picking needs to be able to keep Sawyer on a short leash, and be ready to deal with puck bunnies, and the media. Also,” she quirks her eyebrow. “It obviously has to be someone who’s single.”
I dutifully take notes of the requirements and pull up our employee list so I can see who’s immediately ruled out on the grounds of being married or in a known relationship. I also don’t think anyone with kids is suitable. And then there’s the fact that it needs to be a woman, and ironically, our department is mostly made up of men.
“How about Ellen?” Nick suggests, looking over at the woman who earlier said that Sawyer isn’t relationship material.
Before she can answer, I ask, “Ellen, are you still looking after your sister?” When she nods, I shake my head. “It needs to be someone without commitments. If we’re selling this, the person needs to be able to attend the away games, and hang on his arm at all the events he has to attend.”
“Absolutely right,” Jo agrees. “We also need someone who hasn’t dated anyone on the team. The last thing we need is for the media to spin this into some kind of love triangle and make people think there’s jealousy within the ranks.”
I’m so engrossed in cross checking and pulling potential names that I don’t notice a hush falling over the room until Nick discreetly kicks me under the table. “What?” I hiss, turning to glare at him. He tilts his head toward Jo, who’s looking expectantly at me. “Oh.”
She points between me and Nick. “The two of you seem to have a good grasp on what’s expected, so I don’t see a reason to keep the entire team here all night.” Making a show of looking at the gold watch on her wrist, she sighs. “Let’s break, and then you two can continue. The rest of you, back to work or go home if you’re done.”
As much as I don’t want to do this, I don’t have a reason to decline, so I nod. “Sure thing.”
Nick also agrees, and like me, he looks anything but keen. At least, it was his idea.