19. Tori
It’s been almost a week since our come-to-Jesus conversation, and it’s the first time I’ve had to speak to Dee alone. I’m sitting in my car, trying to calm my racing thoughts before I head into work. I’m going to tell him about my relationships today, even if every self-preservation instinct I have is screaming not to. But I know Logan was right; it’s better for me to get ahead of this and be able to control the narrative, rather than waiting for someone to catch us in the act and then have to do damage control.
I take a deep breath before I slide out of my car and head into work, slinging my new work bag over my shoulder. I was already scheduled to meet with my boss today, with the morning dedicated to getting me up to speed on projects Dee has cooking, and Mardi Gras season planning after lunch. Hopefully, I’ll be able to squeeze this bomb somewhere into the schedule between approving centerpieces and getting updates about the construction of the parade floats.
My heels clack loudly on the concrete of the parking garage, and it’s easier to push out the intrusive thoughts when I can focus on the steady, confident steps echoing off the walls.
Don’t do it. He’s going to fire you on the spot, and you’re going to get blacklisted, and you’ll never find a job in the league ever again.
I swallow as the thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I take another deep breath, acknowledging the worries without giving them validity, like my therapist taught me, before rebutting it.
Even if Dee fires me, he is not the petty type. He would be mad, but he wouldn’t stoop so low to ruining my career.
Pressing the button to the elevator, I slide my phone out of my pocket as it buzzes with an incoming notification.
Logan
I’m in the building if you need me, baby girl.
I smile despite myself. Today is supposed to be a mandatory day off before the team leaves for a two-game road trip on the East Coast. The boys are doing some sort of “team building” activity, though they were mum on the details. I didn’t think to ask Logan about his plans, but I can’t say I’m surprised that he’d choose to be here on his day off.
Thank you. Shall I come see you after my meeting?
You read my mind. I’ll be in my office with a surprise (winky face emoji)
The elevator doors open, and I enter the car, still smiling to myself. At least I have something to look forward to, regardless of how this conversation goes.
Not if Dee walks you to the door and bans you from the premises.
I frown, nerves returning, but this time accompanied by the elevator muzak. The jazzy trumpet solo is a harsh counterpoint to my internal angst, but my intrusive thoughts are nothing if not persistent in the face of irony.
I bury that unhelpful train of thought just as the elevator arrives on the third floor. Arranging my face into what I hope is a pleasant, unbothered smile, I push through the doors to the Public Engagement office. I find Dee already sitting at our glass-top conference table. He’s shuffling through manila folders, pulling things out to set on the surface among the other pieces of paper he’s already prepped, and doesn’t look up when I sit down.
“Wasn’t expecting all this,” I say with a low chuckle, glancing at the many small stacks of paper.
“Well, you wouldn’t. Half of these projects are need-to-know, and you never needed to know,” Dee explains, his deep voice smooth as velvet.
“Until now?” It’s a question that has my heart racing. He’s put his trust in me, and I’m about to rip the rug out from under him.
He looks up after placing the manila folder down with a fond smile. “Until now.”
My head spins after an hour of conversation. I couldn’t have imagined how far in advance the team plans, and how many contingencies are prepared for. Logos and graphics for each stage of the playoffs, all ready to go for the next five seasons, including ones for if the Mystic wins the Stanley Cup. Contracts with vendors for fan events. The designs for next year’s Mardi Gras floats and costumes, even though the ones for this coming year haven’t even finished production. On and on and on until I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to keep any of it straight.
We’ve barely touched half the stacks of paper when Dee finally calls for a break, and we place an order for po’ boys from the shop I go to with Oli. Logan put the kibosh on us going to lunch for the time being, but hopefully, if Dee doesn’t banish me from being within a thousand feet of the team and its players, we’ll have a bit more breathing room to make that a standing date once again.
As the thought occurs to me, I have to stifle a heavy sigh. I don’t want to do this, but we’ve got such a busy afternoon. It’s best to rip the band-aid off before things get any messier.
“While we’ve got a sec, there’s something—”
“Do you know what I’m going to do? The first day of my retirement?” Dee asks over me, as if he didn’t hear me speak.
I deflate slightly, but shake my head and sit back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other as I focus on my boss. He looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, his bald head shiny after a fresh shave, smile lines etched deep into his ebony skin.
“I’m taking Sandy to Europe. I’ve got the tickets booked, and everything. She doesn’t have a clue, but she’s always wanted to see Paris.” His face softens at the mention of his mate.
My stomach twists unpleasantly, and I shift in my seat as I look away. Not that Dee notices. His eyes are firmly fixed on the bright New Orleans skyline visible through the plate glass wall of windows.
Dee goes on for a while, detailing the surprise trip he’s booked, which includes almost two months of relaxation in almost every part of mainland Europe. He talks the entire time we wait for our delivery, and I practically sprint out of the office to retrieve it. Anything to have a few minutes to gather myself.
On my way down to the side entrance, I pull my phone from my pocket, swiping to unlock it and read my new messages.
Oli
Good luck with your boss today. I know you can do this.
Frowning, a pit of guilt rolls around in my gut with each step.
He’s so excited to retire, Ace.
And he still gets to, if he’s not a prick about this.
I don’t want to ruin this for him.
You being happy has nothing to do with your job performance. If he’s as good of a boss as you say he is, then he’ll see that.
The PE department is going to be in good hands with you.
And if he doesn’t think so, then just show him the dozen or so viral videos you’ve made since Christmas break.
I giggle to myself, my nerves settling slightly at his reassurance. He’s right, of course. Dee would be a fool not to see how much I care about this department, and recognize how much good I’ve done for the team since starting. Not that Rachel, or Tony, or Monroe don’t care, but none of them are chomping at the bit to climb up the ladder like I have. Hell, before the season started, and my life still made sense, I wanted to make my own sub-department. This is what I want, and I’ve proven that I can do my job without my personal life impacting my performance.
Feeling more confident than ever as I head back up to the office with our lunch, I allow the silence to continue as we eat. I finish about half of the massive sandwich before I sit back to digest a little. Dee does the same and looks at me with a similarly fond smile as he wore when he was talking about his upcoming trip.
“I’m glad you said yes, Tori, you know that?” he starts, a new seriousness in his tone.
I give him a curious look, not sure what to make of this line of conversation.
Dee shrugs, gazing out over the city again. “I probably still would have retired this year if you passed, but that would have meant getting someone else in here.”
“What about Rachel? Or Tony?” I ask, more confused than ever.
Dee releases a skeptical noise. “They’re great employees, don’t get me wrong. But they don’t... get it like you do,” he says as his eyes grow distant.
“Get... what?” I ask slowly, not sure I really want to know the answer.
“The game. The sport. The stakes. Take your pick. Rach and Tony do great work, but they’d do just as well working for any of the other big names in town. But you understand hockey, and you know how to make other people love it. You wake up and eat, drink, breathe hockey. I don’t know if you’ve ever taken your eye off the puck once.” He laughs at his own joke.
My mind floats back to Christmas, when I was able to relax and just enjoy time with the boys I care about. I certainly wasn’t thinking about hockey when I watched the three of them scrambling around the beach to find the prettiest shells and pebbles to place at my feet.
“Whatever you end up doing with this,” Dee goes on, motioning to the room around us before looking at me, “I’m excited to watch. From the comfort of my couch at home, that is.”
Dee lets out a booming laugh that could rival that of our play-by-play caller, Gene Robicheaux, and I manage a few chuckles around the lump in my throat. Letting out a contented sigh, he leans forward and picks up some of the stray catfish pieces that fell out of his po’ boy.
“But I talked enough for one break. You were trying to ask something before I went off on my tangent. What’s on your mind?”
I swallow hard and set the uneaten half of my po’ boy back on its paper on the table, brushing some crumbs from my lap, just to have a few more moments to gather my thoughts. Dee doesn't speak, but I can sense his eyes on me like lead weights.
“I’ve heard a rumor, and I wanted to run it by you, just to see what we’d do if it were true,” I start, finally looking up to lock eyes with my boss.
Dee’s brow furrows as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, nodding for me to continue. I clear my throat before taking the plunge.
“There’s talk about a few players being…involved with someone in the office staff,” I say, hoping like hell my face doesn’t give me away.
Dee hums thoughtfully. “I see. And has this talk given any indication of how long these people have been seeing each other?”
The question is flat, with very little emotion to go off of.
“A while, since the pre-season, if the rumors are to be believed.”
“That long, huh? Must be pretty serious.”
I pause before answering, trying to unpack the statement, but with little success. I can’t tell if he believes me, or if he’s just humoring me to see where I’ll go with this. But I’m already committed, so I nod.
“Yeah, pretty serious. But they’ve been doing their best to keep their personal relationships separate from their professional lives.” My fingers fiddle in my lap as I take in his unreadable expression.
Dee doesn’t respond right away, just studies me with those sharp, dark eyes. I can feel the sweat beading on my back, and I’m grateful I applied extra layers of scent blockers before I left the house. My pheromones have been all over the place since I changed my meds, and I’m almost positive they would have given me away a long time ago if I hadn’t taken precautions.
“Do we know if anything inappropriate has happened on the clock?” he asks at last.
I keep my face calm, even as my mind flashes back to my first kiss with Oliver, in the supply closet, when both of us were still definitely clocked in and getting paid. That could have easily escalated, but I’m eternally grateful now that I walked away when I did.
“There’s speculation about a kiss, but nothing more than that, at least from what I’ve heard.” The truth tastes a little bitter, but hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Dee nods, one corner of his mouth pinching as he considers. Should I just come out with the whole truth? My heart hammers against my ribs as the silence stretches between us. Surely by now he must have cottoned on to my flimsy cover story.
“Is that all?” he asks at last.
I nod, deciding to hedge my bets for the moment.
“So, who are you seeing, Tori?”
My eyes snap to his, spine straightening as the blood drains from my face. I fight back the urge to deny, clenching my shaking hands as I swallow again.
“Black, Jokinson, and Astrauckas,” I rasp.
This is the plan, I remind myself. Logan and I will keep our involvement to ourselves for the moment, at least until we can figure out if this is just a fling or something more serious. The boys and I will go through with forming a pack, and we can figure the rest out later, preferably after the season is over and we can take the time we need to get our affairs in order.
Dee’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead toward the top of his bald head, shock the primary emotion painting his features. But the longer he goes without speaking, the harder it is to stay still. The backs of my eyes burn, and I can feel moisture forming on the edges of my lids every time I blink.
“When I asked you about skeletons in your closet, you told me you didn’t have any,” Dee says, with not a whole lot of inflection for me to interpret.
I nod. “I know. And I’m sorry. But…things have changed since then, and I knew I had to come clean,” I say, starting off strong, but then fading until I’m almost whispering.
“Things changed? Like what?” His face settling into something like curiosity mixed with skepticism.
I consider my options, but when I open my mouth, words just come tumbling out. I lay everything out, from my past with Spencer in college, to meeting them at Dallas’s party, every moment from the first half of the season. Obviously, I leave out the explicit parts, but Dee’s smirks tell me he’s able to fill in the gaps in my story just fine.
“And then, we went to St. Martin for Christmas, and it was so romantic, and we had a long talk about our futures. That’s when we decided that we’re ready for something serious. We’re ready to form a pack,” I finish, half leaning over the glass conference table as I stare at my hands, fingers twisting around each other until they’re sore.
The half dozen heartbeats of silence that follow my confession are heavy, almost smothering me from the weight of my anxiety. I’m mentally taking inventory of my belongings, trying to remember what’s company property and what I bought so I don’t accidentally pack something that doesn’t belong to me when I’m fired. But I’m pulled from my thoughts abruptly, jumping slightly as Dee’s massive hand comes down on my arm. I lift my eyes to see him smiling softly at me, his eyes shining with understanding.
“Thank you for telling me all of this, Tori. It takes a lot of courage and integrity to admit when you’ve done something wrong, and I commend you for coming to me about this.”
My pulse rushes in my ears. Oh, God. It’s over for me. I’m so fucked. I never should have done this. He’s going to ask for my badge at any moment.
“Do you think you’ll be announcing your pack officially before the season is over?” he asks.
I shrug, throat too tight for words. My eyes swim with unshed tears, making everything blurry.
“If you do decide to do it, just let me know. We can set up a press conference or something, or even just a statement on the team’s website and to the media, if you don’t want to make a huge deal of things.” Dee pauses and leans back to look at his watch. “If that’s all, we’ve got this call with the Saints PR rep in a few minutes. Then I’ll have to show you the concept art for the new third jerseys.”
My mind screeches to a halt, and I swear I can hear a record scratch as Dee pushes back from me to roll over to the phone, pulling it closer to our end of the table before picking up the receiver.
“Wait, what? I’m not fired? And you’re not revoking the promotion?” I manage to get out right before he starts dialing.
Dee freezes and looks up at me, confused. “Fired? God, no. You said it yourself just a few minutes ago. You have kept your personal life separate from your professional responsibilities, and I can’t see any reason why you won’t be able to continue to do so. Are we going to need to have a long talk about why you felt like you couldn’t come to me sooner about this? You bet your ass we will be. But you’re still the best candidate to take over this department, Tori.”
I have to brush away stray tears that escape as my shoulders slump forward in relief. I’m shaking as I come down from the fight-or-flight high, but I pull myself together in time to be present for the planning meeting.
As I’m listening to the other parties giving their progress reports, I slip my phone from my pocket and fire off two identical texts, one to Oli and one to Logan.
I’ve told Dee, and it’s going to be okay. I still have my job and I’m still on track for promotion. I’ll tell you all about it later.
A few seconds later, I receive several celebration horn emojis from Oli, which makes me smile. But then Logan’s text comes through, and goosebumps litter my arms, making me shiver.
Logan
I’m so proud of you. Come down to the ice so we can celebrate properly.