Chapter 15 #2
“I’m serious about hockey, no matter what you think,” Chase says, finally speaking up for himself. “I’ll string together a few good games, and then none of this will matter anymore. You watch.”
“I’m eagerly awaiting that development,” the GM grumbles.
“In the meantime, you do everything Sailor tells you. We all have better things to do than sit around thinking about how to make you look like less of an asshole on Dumbstagram or DickTok. Now excuse me.” He rises.
“Sailor—do your thing. And Merritt—your fine is due to me by Wednesday. I expect to read your apology statement while I’m sipping my first martini tonight. ”
Then he exits the room as cheerfully as he entered it. Which is not very.
After he departs, I brace my elbows on the table and try to stay calm. But the words seven figures are still bouncing around in my head like shrapnel.
“So let’s hear your idea,” Bess says to Sailor.
I’m startled when the PR guru points at me. “Yesterday, our press release about Zoe got picked up by a flood of outlets. They loved her. So let’s run with it. Zoe will hold a one-on-one coaching session with Chase, and I’ll invite some journalists to observe them working together.”
“Oh,” Bess says, while my stomach twists. It will be stressful enough when I finally get Chase into a private session with me. I don’t need strangers watching.
“I love it,” Tremaine says, oblivious to my distress. “It’s a great photo op—Chase trying to keep up with Zoe on drills. She skates like a demon, man. Eat some protein before your session.”
Chase glances toward me. The flash of ocean blue is familiar, but the unreadable expression is not.
“So what do you say?” Sailor asks, clicking his pen a couple of times, in what might be a tic.
Bess glances at Chase, her eyebrows raised. “Sounds painless, don’t you think?”
I brace myself for him to argue the exact opposite. “Sure,” he says flatly. “If that’s what you want.”
“Awesome!” Sailor chuckles. “The press’ll eat it up. There’s nothing more fun than watching a top player take skating tips from a hundred-pound woman with a ponytail.”
Bess sighs. “I was with you until you used Zoe’s gender and body measurements to make your point.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sailor clicks his pen again. “My job is all about optics. I’m paid to put a spotlight on this stuff. And this would still be a good idea even if Zoe weighed in like a sumo wrestler.”
Bess shakes her head. “I do think a coaching session sounds like a low-stress way to get some good PR. But I notice you didn’t ask Zoe what she thinks of this idea.”
All eyes turn to me, and I do mean all of them. Even Chase’s piercing blue ones.
“Well, Zoe?” Sailor asks. “You’ll do it, right? You’re useful to us.”
You’re useful to us. For all the wrong reasons. And I’m so torn, because I know that Chase would rather have oral surgery than skate with me. On the other hand, I need to undo the harm that I’ve caused, if that’s even possible. And it would be nice to last a week at this job without being fired.
Plus, I want to fix Chase’s skating. No, I need to. “I’d love to do the session. Name the time.”
“Excellent,” Sailor says. “I’ll have details for both of you by tomorrow morning.”
Then the meeting is over, and Chase is the first one out of the room. Not that I blame the guy. As I get up to follow everyone out, seven figures still flashes in front of my eyes, like a bad cartoon.
“Well?” Darcy says when I arrive at her desk. Then she takes one look at my face. “Oh my God, did you just get fired?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s almost worse than that.”
She glances at her bank of phones and then grabs her pocketbook off the desk. “Okay, emergency snack break. Sharp can’t possibly get any grumpier, so I might as well.” She grabs her jacket off a coat tree and steers me toward the door. “Spill,” she says as we ride the first escalator downward.
I explain about Chase’s lost sponsorships, and she makes all the right noises of dismay.
“This is all my fault,” I tell her. “My impulse was to help, but I cost him at least a million dollars instead.”
“That is a lot of money,” she says solemnly. We get off the escalator, and she steers me toward the staff locker corridor. “Get your coat, it’s freezing outside.”
“How can I ever make this up to him?”
“Oh, buddy, I don’t know. Did Bess say those sponsors had cut ties already?” she asks. “Or were they just worried?”
“I’m not sure,” I say miserably. “But it sounded bad.” I type in the code for my locker, but then I open the door only an inch or two and quickly peek inside. If there’s another nasty note, I don’t want Darcy seeing it.
But no. I grab my coat and pull it on, then follow her down to the street level. When we push open the doors to West Twenty-First Street, a bracing January wind scours our faces.
“Where are we going?” I ask, hugging my coat more closely to my body.
“This is the kind of crisis that requires cake,” Darcy says. “Have you been to Billy’s Bakery yet?”
“That place on Ninth? I’ve walked past it.” The most amazing smells come from that place.
She gives me a look of incredulity. “You walked right past? I didn’t even know that was possible. Follow me, please.”
I’m about to do that when I see another figure standing a ways down the sidewalk, his hands jammed into his coat pockets for warmth. My heart leaps before my brain even catches up.
Chase.
“Just a minute,” I say. “There’s something I have to do.”
“Uh-oh,” Darcy mutters as I jog away from her.
“Chase, wait!” I say before he can step off the curb.
He turns, his handsome face flashing with irritation. “What now, Zoe? I’m late for an appointment, and my head is killing me.”
“Look,” I gasp. “I meant what I said in there. I’m sorry I was impulsive.
Again. I’m sorry I stepped in front of that fan when I should’ve just stayed home…
” He eyes the street again, planning his getaway, and the words tumble out of me even faster.
“I cannot cost you a million dollars, because this coaching gig doesn’t pay that well.
I promise I won’t be your big orange fireball anymore. ”
“My what?”
I fling my arms out to the sides. “You said it last night—that I was like a big orange fireball in your life.”
His expression turns thoughtful. “Not bad for a drunk man. But forget it, okay? It doesn’t matter what I said last night.”
“Oh, it does,” I insist. “And blowing up your life was never my intention, okay? I loved you like you were the last slice of mushroom-free pizza on Earth. You were the only person who ever liked me just for me, which is why I gave you everything. Like my heart. And my virginity…”
He stares at me, his blue eyes shocked. “Jesus, Zoe.”
“I know, I know. Too much.” But I’ve been waiting years to tell him how hurt I was, and I can’t seem to shut up.
“Just trying to be honest here. And the honest truth is that I want to help you get your game back. For purely professional reasons.” I pause.
“Okay, it’s also an ego thing. But I’m really good at what I do. ”
He sighs. “I have no doubt. But let’s just keep a little distance, m’kay? I was already having a hellacious year before last night’s disaster.”
“Chase, I can help,” I insist. “Please work with me. Even if it’s only ten minutes at Sailor’s pony show.”
His blue eyes flash with irritation. “I said I’d be there, didn’t I?”
“You agreed to a publicity stunt. But it could be more than that, if you’re willing to try. I have a theory about your skating.”
“Everyone does. Take a number.”
“But what if I’m right? You’ll score more goals, you might keep your sponsors, and everyone will stop being mad at you. Then it won’t matter if the two-asshole rule is true.”
He snorts, and the corners of his mouth twitch, and I feel a zing of victory.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
His eyebrows lift. “Besides public humiliation?”
“Please. You’re wearing a five-thousand-dollar coat. You can handle a little humiliation. And maybe this never occurred to you, but you were a fireball in my life, too. Then you left town and blocked my number.”
He squints at me. “It was the other way around—I blocked your number before I left town.”
God. I fling my arms apart. “See? The least you can do now is spend one hour of your highly paid time skating for me.”
He actually smirks, and even this hint of a smile hits me in the solar plexus. “Fine. Whatever. You can have your hour.”
“Yes. Thank you.” I’m practically vibrating with relief. “Shake on it.” I stick out my hand formally.
He takes it, and the warmth of his skin sends a jolt through my entire nervous system.
Our gazes lock, and his is… confused? I’m trying to understand why, which means we stand there for a moment too long, hands clasped, before I remember myself and pull away.
“Uh, okay. As soon as Sailor books a time…”
He sighs. “I’ll be there, Ice Princess.”
Ice Princess. My heart does a pirouette at the sound of my old nickname, and I stare up at him with unfiltered surprise.
He looks suddenly uncomfortable, though. Like he never meant to say that. He takes a step back and checks the street again. “Hey, that’s my Uber.” He points at a Toyota skulking at the curb. “I have to go.”
A moment later I’m still standing in the bitter cold, as alone as ever.
“Are you okay?” Darcy asks, arriving at my side. “That looked intense.”
“I don’t even know what that was,” I admit. “He said he’d work with me, though. I just hope he meant it.”
“Hmm.” She takes my arm. “Come on. We need a cupcake. And you need to tell me more about that meeting.”
“Oh, it was delightful. I begged forgiveness, and everyone thinks I propositioned a bartender.”
Darcy gasps. “This sounds like a fun story.”
“Like everything else in my life, it’s not quite as fun as it sounds. I need a cupcake.”
“Oh, buddy.” She links her arm through mine. “At least one.”