Chapter 6
Saint
“No fucking way,” I barked. “I’m not doing it. Period.”
“Then you’re off the team,” Coach Cavanaugh retorted. He tossed me a paper copy of the latest edition of the Chicago Sun.
Front page news. My ugly mug was right there.
The headline today?
Experts Confirm the Validity of the Werewolf Video
A cold knife slashed down my spine.
Or straight into my gut.
The press had been relentless, hounding me since the story had been posted. On the phone. Over email. On all my social media accounts. Hell, they’d stood outside the door of my house since the beginning.
Plus, they’d stormed their way into the arena during practice.
“They say any press is good press, right?” It was my way of lightening their moods. I could tell by their long faces that wasn’t possible.
Everything had gotten out of hand. James Braxton, as I’d learned the jerk’s name to be inside the bar, certainly hadn’t kept his mouth shut.
He’d played the helpless victim very well.
Facial expressions. Agonizing groans at the right moments.
Every news agency in the country and some abroad were upping their bids to have an exclusive interview.
By this time next week, the dude could be a millionaire.
It had gotten so bad that my father’s attorney had convinced a judge to issue a cease and desist.
Yeah, we’d see how that worked.
Now I was in a conference room surrounded by the two coaches and the team attorney, along with some PR mogul. I’d never felt so scrutinized in my life. Why not have every member of the team in on the conversation? Maybe they could get a vote as to how low I’d need to sink before plateauing out.
I glared at the coach and he lifted his eyebrows, glaring back at me. The man was serious.
All four remained quiet, likely hoping I’d realize and accept the gravity of the situation.
“This is crazy. I can handle myself in public,” I insisted.
“Maybe you can, but you didn’t do so well when Pete teased you yesterday. Did you?” Jonathan had taken the lead on that one. Not that I blamed him. Pete had marks on his neck from where I’d nearly strangled him.
“Ah, that. He was harassing me.” I scratched my head, trying to figure a way out of this.
“What do you think is going to happen if you’re confronted by a dozen reporters and I assure you that you will be.” The coach had his arms folded.
I shrugged. “I’ll blow them off. Plus, the news is dying down.” I had no clue. I’d stopped looking at social media and the television.
The coach took long strides across the room and beckoned for me. “Come here.”
“Why?”
He gave me his angry look.
I sauntered forward, peering out to what he was pointing at in the parking lot below. Well, shit.
“That’s why this needs to happen. We have an important game coming up, maybe the most important one of the season.” Coach Cavanaugh’s jaw was stiff.
“We’re already in the playoffs,” I responded.
We were, but since we were neck and neck with the Denver Devils with the number one and two positions, the last game would decide who went into the playoffs at number one.
Over the last few years, every season the Wild Dogs hadn’t finished first during the regular season had proven to be a curse.
Not a single championship won.
Thoughts of the curse lingered in every player’s mind, the press already jabbering about the outcome, placing odds on our win against the Devils.
The coach rubbed his eyes, driving his finger into the window for emphasis.
“The story isn’t going anywhere. I can’t walk out my goddamn front door without having some crazy idiot attacking me with a microphone or a sign.
When I arrived this morning, there was one person standing outside holding a sign and a single news crew van waiting on the off chance someone from the team would arrive. Now, what do you see?”
Even the glare on the window couldn’t hide what was waiting on the outside.
There were at least eight news vans and at least one hundred and fifty people holding signs.
Werewolves are people too.
Werewolves deserve a chance.
Don’t hunt the savage.
Some were even more creative.
And very colorful in shades of black, orange, and red.
I leaned against the window. Fuck my life.
“That’s why this is important and you’re going to do exactly what we tell you to do.” The coach snapped the blind closed in fury.
“But you can’t make me date some unknown chick. That’s crazy. I also don’t need some PR flunky telling me how to live my life. I’ll keep away from the media. I’ll keep my nose clean.”
If the dude from the PR firm was pissed, you’d never know it by the hard look he’d worn since he’d walked into the room. Even Jonathan wore no expression, which meant he thought the scheme was a good idea. That was bullshit.
Fake PR was bad enough, but I couldn’t handle being paraded around like some GQ model. New duds. New do. New attitude. Yeah, right. If they only knew there was only one way for that to possibly occur and I had no interest in hunting down some mythical mate.
“You need to do this, Saint, to save yourself and your career,” Carmine stated. “You don’t have any choices.”
“The video is a fake!”
All four men looked between themselves.
My skin began to itch. Not a good sign.
“What? You actually believe that garbage? Do you want me to hold a silver spoon and see if it burns me?” I laughed even though my chest was tight. Even my father hadn’t seemed so optimistic when I’d talked to him on the phone earlier that morning.
“There are some scientists who are… looking over the enhanced video. In the meantime, you need to get your act together and stay on the straight and narrow. Mr. Weathers is going to help you do that.”
“By dating some chick I don’t know.”
“Who also happens to be a top-notch public relations expert. This is temporary,” Jonathan assured me. “How long will this be necessary, Mr. Weathers?”
The man I didn’t know stepped away from the wall where he’d been staring at me intently. It seemed like that was everyone’s pastime as of late. Studying me like some twisted specimen. I rubbed my jaw and tried to keep my cool. I was finding that more and more difficult to do.
“With market trends and the typical length of time headlines remain important, I would normally say thirty days. However, given the seriousness of the situation, we’re talking at least six weeks, maybe eight.”
“Two months of being on your best behavior,” the coach threw in. In just three days, he appeared to have aged by at least a couple of years, the gray on his temples even more distinct.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“That means you’re going to live, eat, and sleep hockey.
No talking to reporters. No trips to bars and nightclubs.
If you go out, you’re going to be with your public relations expert, which you will refer to as your date, your girl, or your steady.
I don’t give a shit which. You’re not going to have friends over for a wild party.
No women. No excessive drinking and for God’s sake, no drugs.
You will need to be tested for steroids and other drugs again. ”
“Wow. You really think I’m some supernatural beast.” I wasn’t certain whether to laugh or become angry.
“Of course not,” he huffed, but couldn’t look me in the eyes. “This will be good for you and your career. You’re going to appear as a man who’s found his sense of family because of a beautiful woman who’s come into your life.”
“In other words, you’re determined to control everything in my life. Right?”
“If we need to, that’s what will happen. If you want to stay on this team.” The coach barely had any inflection in his voice. That’s how angry he was.
“Think of this as a reboot,” Jonathan said.
“The sponsors could pull back on cancelling the sponsorships if the news goes away,” Carmine added.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
The coach merely looked away. “Evidently, you do.”
I studied Mr. Weathers and couldn’t help but wonder how much the man was being paid to control my life. “Who is this girl, just another puck bunny?”
Mr. Weathers bristled and for the first time during the meeting, he took a step forward. While not as tall as I was, his presence was impressive. Obviously, the man was a powerhouse in his industry. His eyes flashed and while he remained clam, there was conviction behind his voice.
“She’s my daughter and I assure you, Mr. Masters, she’s a professional. If you so much as touch her inappropriately, torment her, or otherwise try and manipulate her reputation, I will personally be responsible for destroying what’s left of your career.”
There was such a challenge in the man’s demeanor that I found myself eager to take it on like I had every other one I’d faced in my life.
I grinned, shrugging my shoulders. “I assure you I’ll be a gentleman.
Why not do this? What could it hurt?” I was finished with playing their games.
Sure, I’d need to curtail certain actions, but the girl wasn’t going to be glued to my side.
Maybe if I made her hate me, she’d become disinterested.
“So you’re committed to making this go away?” the coach threw out, still testing me.
“Sure. Why not? I’ll be a good little boy while winning you the next championship. After I do, I plan on renegotiating my contract.”