Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CHELSEY
I stared at the autographed puck on my desk, uncertain what to make of it.
I didn’t understand why Matt had given it to me or, worse, why I hadn’t gotten rid of it yet.
It would be easy to sell the puck online, or if I was too lazy for that, to regift it to my parents. They were both avid ice hockey fans.
Yet here it was. On my desk. Just as Matt had intended.
Fuck my life.
I picked up the clear plastic display box containing the puck and turned it over.
Each side was signed by one of the famous Wright brothers.
No, not the airplane ones. The NHL legends.
I admired Wayne and Pete Wright, but I couldn’t keep this.
Surely accepting a gift from Matt skirted professional boundaries.
“Are you a fan?”
I jolted, caught off guard by the voice behind me. “Sorry?”
Stella nodded toward the puck. “Of the Wright brothers?”
“I am.” I sighed and placed the box back on the desk. “One of the players gave that to me as a welcome gift.”
Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask for too many details. I didn’t tell them about my past with Matt when I took the job. I hadn’t flat out said I’d never had anything to do with any of their players, but they hadn’t asked and I hadn’t volunteered the information.
“Hmm.” Stella raised her pencil-thin eyebrows. “Do you know the rules around fraternization with the players?”
My heart skipped. “I assume it’s not allowed.”
She waggled her French-manicured hand back and forth.
“It’s not strictly forbidden, but it’s frowned upon.
” She dragged over the nearest chair and perched on it.
“Mostly, I just want to caution you that having a romantic or sexual relationship with a player—or part of the team’s management—would look bad in the industry.
People might think you use your ‘feminine wiles’ to get ahead. ”
I chuckled. “Feminine wiles?”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but this is still a male-dominated industry and there are plenty of places where they embrace the old boys’ attitude. I’m not saying I think you’d behave inappropriately. You should just be aware of the framework you’re operating within.”
I rested my elbow on the desk and sent her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I have no intention of fraternizing with anyone.”
It had been far too long since any “fraternizing” had happened in my life, full stop.
She smirked. “Maybe not, but whoever gave you that might have fraternization on their mind, even if you don’t.”
I rolled my eyes. I highly doubted that. It was more likely that Matt was trying to smooth things over. He was just going about it in a way that unsettled me. It would be easier if he simply left me alone and pretended we were strangers.
Stella’s phone pinged and she checked the screen. “The documentary team has arrived. I’ll escort them up. Can you prepare the meeting room?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed my laptop, along with a notebook and a pen, and carried them across the small open-plan area to the meeting rooms along the far wall.
The dividers between the meeting rooms and the office space were glass, so anyone here could see what was going on, but they’d been soundproofed reasonably well.
I went to the largest one and double-checked to make sure there were enough chairs around the conference table.
It was only a small team of people we’d be dealing with regularly: a producer, a videographer, and a director, from my understanding.
There would be others involved, but only on an as-needed basis.
I set my laptop and notebook on the far side of the table and headed to the kitchenette to brew a pot of coffee. They may not want any, but it was my experience that it was always best to offer. Some people ran on caffeine and couldn’t function without it.
While the coffee brewed, I carried a tray of mugs to the meeting room and placed it in the center of the table. I’d just returned with the carafe when Stella arrived with three others in tow.
I remained standing to greet them and offered each a smile. “Hi, I’m Chelsey, the team’s publicist.”
The man nearest had a head of tight, steel gray curls, round spectacles, and a weathered face that suggested he spent a lot of time in the sun. He grinned back and shook my hand. “Hi, Chelsey. I’m Max Prescott, the videographer. It’s nice to meet you.”
He moved around the table and took a seat. The woman behind him was a petite brunette with a sleek, high ponytail and dark, slim-fitting slacks.
“Kim Johns,” she said, squeezing my hand briefly. “I’m the one you’ve been corresponding with.”
I recognized her voice. While we’d mostly emailed, we’d shared a few phone calls too. “It’s good to meet you in person.”
“Likewise.” She rounded the table, joined Max, and immediately poured herself a cup of coffee.
That left just a tall, broad-shouldered man with the body of a former athlete—muscular but with soft padding in places.
“I’m Patrick,” he told me. “The director.”
I murmured a greeting in return. Stella waited for Patrick to sit and then closed the door behind them.
“Great, that’s all the introductions made,” she said, claiming the seat beside me.
“I know this is mandatory, but it’s still an opportunity and we want to make the most of it, so let’s talk details.
I understand from Chelsey that you’d like to film a miniseries of four to eight episodes, depending on how the season progresses and the quality of the footage recorded. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Kim confirmed. “We have a handshake agreement to release the miniseries exclusively with Sport TV first and we could later release it more widely. If you—and the commissioner—are agreeable, we can get that down on paper.”
Stella nodded. “As long as the contract doesn’t restrict our ability to post video content generated by the in-house team during the season, I see no reason for that to be a problem.”
“Provided the content doesn’t duplicate our own—with the exception of game footage—that should be fine,” Kim replied.
I jotted down the date at the top of the page in my notebook. “So, what kind of content are you interested in?”
Hopefully, this wasn’t an underhanded attempt at an exposé. From what Kim had said during our emails, it didn’t seem that way, but it paid to be cautious.
Patrick leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table.
“Ideally, we’d start with player interviews and footage of them during training.
We’d like to record footage during at least one preseason game and two games during the season—one at home and one away, to capture the full experience.
If you make it to the playoffs or the championship, we’d want additional footage from those too. ”
“How much access to the players will you need?” I asked as I made a note of what he’d said.
“We’d like to interview them early on and then we’d ideally like to speak to at least two or three of them following each game we attend, to get comments on the game and a consistent narrative. We’d also like to interview the coaching staff.”
Stella tapped her pen against her chin. “The coaches have already agreed to participate in whatever way we see fit. Who chooses the players who will be the focus? You or us?”
“We can talk it over.” Patrick pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it for a moment. “If it sets your minds at ease, I don’t see any reason for us to shadow players outside of the games or the training facility unless there’s a significant team-related event.”
“That’s good to know,” Stella said. “The team could use whatever positive publicity it can get right now, but we’d rather not intrude on anyone’s privacy.”
We hammered out a few more details and exchanged phone numbers so we could each get in contact with each other if needed.
“Is that everything?” Stella asked as I closed my notebook and laptop.
“I believe so,” Kim replied.
Max, who’d largely remained silent, cleared his throat. “Would it be possible for us to watch their practice for a while before we leave? I’d like to get an idea of where I might like to place cameras and how best to approach the first days of filming.”
“That’s a great idea.” Stella stood and smoothed her blazer. “Chelsey, why don’t you escort them down and see that they have what they need?”
I pressed my lips together, not thrilled to be going nearer to Matt again but aware it made sense for me to accompany them. “Of course. Do you need to bring any equipment inside from your vehicle?”
Max shook his head. “Not at the moment. I just want to scope it out.”
Stella said a quick goodbye, and I led the others down the stairs into the main part of the stadium. I suggested we sit in the stands, but Max insisted it would be more useful to be as close to the action as possible. Which, of course, meant as close to Matt as possible.
I hovered beside Max as he and Patrick exchanged ideas. Kim seemed preoccupied with something on her phone and didn’t participate in the conversation. For the most part, I didn’t either, unless Max wanted to know whether particular camera positions or angles were feasible.
Because they didn’t need my active participation, I kept getting distracted by Matt. The players were engaged in a game, and he was zipping all over the defensive zone, stopping the puck whenever it came close.
He was so damn competent. It would be too easy to fall into the role of being his personal cheerleader, like I used to when we were together.
“Harris, Kelly, and Young are playing well together,” Max observed.
I turned toward him. “Are you a hockey fan?”
I didn’t know whether this crew was personally invested in the sport or if this was just a job to them.
“I am.” He flashed me a grin that showed one crooked incisor. “I love all sports, but hockey is my favorite. I used to play in a rec league until my knees gave up on me.”
“Who do you support?” I was curious whether he’d abandoned the Chaos as many other fans had during their terrible past few years.