Chapter III #2
When I get back to my apartment, I reluctantly pick up my phone when it starts to ring with a call from Colin.
“What’s up?” I answer as I make my way to my own kitchen and start making a better cup of coffee than the swill Ralph drinks.
“What’s fucking up? Dude. I’ve been calling and texting for a goddamn hour.” Colin sounds stressed, and I immediately set down the mug I had in hand. “I’m on my way. Don’t fucking open your phone or do anything until I’m there.”
I ignore his instructions, of course, immediately unlocking my phone as soon as we hang up and see all the missed calls and texts from him.
Flipping to the web browser I have set to show alerts from major news outlets when my name is mentioned, I see why he’s pissed.
Someone got a photo last night of me and the chick from the bar.
And it looks like a lot more is going on than there actually was.
“Jesus Christ,” I grumble, dropping my phone with a clatter. My front door flies open a few minutes later, courtesy of the key Colin has to my place.
“You better have some strong-ass coffee ready,” he barks out, running his fingers through his close-cropped hair. He looks down at my phone, then back to me. “I know you looked, even though I told you not to. Care to explain who she is?”
“It’s nothing. She’s nothing. Just some woman whose ex was bugging her. I stepped in to get rid of him.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Mav. It doesn’t look like nothing. You look like you’re fucking in love.” His voice is incredulous, and I snort in response.
“I don’t do love.”
“I know that, but to the rest of the world, that’s a lie.
Everyone’s probably busy writing your fucking wedding vows right now.
Do you know who she is, Mav?” Colin pulls out his phone and quickly starts typing.
Then he spins it around so I can see the screen.
I shouldn’t be surprised he figured out her identity so quickly.
And I try to tamp down my curiosity, because what the fuck do I care who she is?
“Sadie LeDuc. Head of fundraising for the Vancouver Children’s Hospital Foundation. She’s not some random chick, Mav.”
Colin sinks down and looks at me with an expression that for some reason makes me nervous.
“What?” I growl, pouring the coffee into two mugs and shoving one across the counter to him. “She’s nothing to me.”
“Unless we make her something to you. This could be a good thing, brother.” His voice has turned deceptively soft and I’m equal parts confused and concerned by it.
“What are you getting at?” I ask sharply, lifting my mug to take a small sip of the scorching hot liquid. Hell of a lot better than the swill Ralph drinks.
“I’m saying we need to repair your image, and what better way than a love story between you and Miss Goody Two-shoes here to feed the media with something positive for a change?”
Coffee spews from my mouth onto the counter between us. “You’re fucking joking.”
But Colin just shakes his head slowly. “This photo shows you as a human being, capable of having feelings for someone. That’s what we need, Mav. For the world to see a side of you they’ve never witnessed.”
I back away from him. “No. Just, no. Fuck off with that madness, bro.” My hand reaches into my pocket for the small piece of metal that’s always with me.
I start to flip it across my fingers, a habit I picked up as a teenager when my social worker first gave me the coin-sized medal of St. Sebastian.
Muny said it was to help me be brave since he’s the patron saint of courage.
I laughed and asked why a Sikh social worker was carrying around Catholic saint talismans, and she just arched a brow and said, “Does it matter what the source of encouragement is, as long as it has meaning for you?”
“Just listen to me, Mav. You get this Sadie chick to pretend to be with you for a little while. Show up to some charity shit with her. Give the media a few happy photos. Show the team there’s more to you than liability. That you’re capable of settling down and not being such a wild card.”
Okay, that hurts.
“Think about it, Mav. A few months, a couple of public appearances. If she needed you last night for help with her ex, maybe she could use you again. Or we fucking pay her. I don’t know, bro, we convince her somehow.
But you gotta behave, and you gotta be convincing.
And however it ends, we need to make sure you come out looking good.
” Desperation starts to thread through his words, and I realize Colin’s serious.
And that sobers me. “We need this. We need to get the public back on your side or…”
He doesn’t have to say it. The Tridents are a great team, and I want to stay here in Vancouver.
But even I know their patience for my shit is gonna run out soon.
Even if all the messes I find myself in are because of my impulsive need to defend others and not because I’m truly the asshole the world thinks I am.
“I’ll think about it,” I say quietly, stepping forward and picking up my coffee again.
Colin nods. “Good. I’ll figure out a media strategy and talk to the Tridents. We need them to believe it’s all real, that she’s your girl, and you’re turning over a new leaf. If I can’t find a home address, we’ll go see her at the hospital later today.”
He picks up his coffee and drinks it, as if the decision has been made and a plan has been set.
Colin’s one of the very few people in this life that I trust. Hell, I pay him to manage my career and don’t ever question his decisions. So why the fuck do I feel like I just agreed to let him manage my fucking love life?