Chapter 26 #3
Yeah, that didn’t bode well for me. After I told Ross my plan, we pooled together our money and bought the cheapest airplane ticket we could find to Los Angeles and then put the hotel on my credit card.
I’m here for twenty-four hours with a mission to talk to JP Cane without an appointment. And with a big black mark on my name.
“It won’t be easy,” I say. “But I need to at least try. I’m all out of options.”
“Okay, but call me as soon as you’re done.”
“I will.”
“Good luck. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say before hanging up the phone and sticking it in my purse.
Dressed in a deep purple pantsuit and a white blouse, I clutch the strap of my purse and walk through the doors of Cane Enterprises.
I know Ryot Bisley is one of the owners of The Jock Report, and JP is an investor, but since he’s the one I made a connection with, he’s the one I’ll try talking to first.
When I reach the front desk, I casually say, “Hello, I have a meeting with JP Cane.”
I don’t.
The assistant looks up at me and says, “ID?”
I smile and dig into my purse for my ID. When I hand it to her, I’m almost worried she’s going to run some quick background check, but instead, she scans it and then prints out a visitors pass for me that I stick on my shirt.
“Through security, top floor.”
I smile and say, “Thank you.”
I work my way through security, get searched, and then head to his office. The building is beautiful. Full of live plants and modern lines, I could see why working for Cane Enterprises would be relaxing even though the demand for success is high.
When I reach the floor I’m supposed to be on, there’s another receptionist, so I stop at her desk. “Can I help you?” she asks.
“Yes, I, uh, I don’t have a meeting, but I would like to see if JP Cane has any availability today.”
Without even checking, the woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry, he has no time in his schedule.”
Exactly what I thought was going to happen.
“I understand,” I say. “I actually met Mr. Cane up in Vancouver at a sponsor event, and he gave me his card.” I flash the card at her. “He said to contact him. Well, I’m here in Los Angeles for the day and really need to talk to him.”
“And as I said, he doesn’t have any time in his schedule.”
“What if . . . what if I just wait around, see if something opens up?”
“You are more than welcome to see if that happens, but I can’t guarantee you anything.”
“I understand, and I appreciate the chance.” I glance behind me at two leather armchairs. “Would it be okay if I sat there?”
“That would be fine,” the receptionist says.
“Thank you.” I smile kindly. “I’m Ollie, by the way. Ollie Owens.”
“Ollie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Terri.”
“Terri, thank you for letting me crash in your waiting area for the day.”
I walk over to one of the chairs, and just as I take a seat, the elevator doors part, and three extremely attractive men step into the lobby.
Huxley.
JP.
And Breaker.
I know what they look like and what they do for the company, thanks to careful research. I’ve even researched their personal lives and noted that they’re all married.
Each with a cup of coffee in hand, they greet Terri, and as they’re walking by, JP glances over at me and pauses for a moment. Faded recognition crosses over his face as he points his finger at me. “How do I know you?”
“The sponsor event in Vancouver. Ollie Owens,” I say. “I was with Silas Taters.”
“That’s right,” he says. “Ollie Owens?”
“Yes,” I say.
“She’s hoping to slip in to see you today,” Terri says. “I told her your schedule is full, but she’s willing to wait to see if there’s an opening.”
He slowly nods, keeping his eyes on me. He lifts his cup to his lips and takes a sip. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to wait.” And with that, he takes off.
Dammit, and for a second, I thought he’d meet with me quickly.
Looks like I’m here for the long haul.
I take out my phone and send a quick text to Ross.
Ollie: Schedule full. Waiting in the reception area to see if there’s an opening. JP saw me, recognized me, and made me repeat my name. I think he knows I’m the one who wrote the article. Do you think this is a lost cause?
Ross: I was afraid of that. They’re very passionate about The Jock Report, and your article goes against everything they believe in.
Ollie: I get it. Do you think I should leave?
Ross: What do you think?
Ollie: I could admit defeat. Or I could hang in here and hope he gives me a chance.
Ross: I’m guessing you’re going to wait.
Ollie: I don’t think leaving is an option.
* * *
Ollie: Two hours and counting and nothing. Not even a peep.
Ross: What have you been doing?
Ollie: Writing in my notepad about how much I miss Silas.
Ross: That has got to be the saddest two hours ever.
Ollie: I cried at one point and realized I needed to stop.
Ross: The receptionist is going to judge you.
Ollie: Trust me, I think she already has.
* * *
Ollie: Just saw JP leave for lunch with his wife. I almost cried just from the sight of them holding hands. I miss Silas.
Ross: Pull it together, woman.
Ollie: I know. It was a weak moment.
* * *
Ollie: I want to stand and stretch so bad. I’ve been sitting in this chair for six hours. I need mobility.
Ross: Don’t stretch. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.
Ollie: So don’t perform jumping jacks?
Ross: Jesus, no.
Ollie: This is torture.
Ross: Hang in there.
* * *
Ollie: Everyone is leaving the office. It’s past five. What do I do?
Ross: Has JP left?
Ollie: No. Seems like everyone else has filtered out.
Ross: Well, stay put until told otherwise.
Ollie: I feel so pathetic. It’s clear he knows who I am from the article, and the last thing he wants to do is talk to me.
“Miss Owens?” Terri says. I look up to see her standing next to her desk, her purse strapped on her shoulder.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s time for me to go home, and I can’t let you be here by yourself.”
“Oh . . . yeah, I understand that,” I say, feeling heartbroken.
I stand from my trusty chair and pick up my purse.
“I’m sorry, Miss Owens.”
“No need to apologize,” I say. “I get it.”
Terri gestures her arm to the elevator, and I follow suit.
Terri has been nice all day. She even offered to grab me something for lunch.
Who does that? Offers a complete stranger lunch?
I declined, not wanting to put her out, but even though this has been a shitty day of waiting in a chair, at least someone was nice to me, a person who probably doesn’t deserve it.
Terri presses the elevator button, and as the elevator dings, I hear, “Ollie, come back here, please.”
I look over my shoulder to catch JP standing in the hallway, hands on his hips.
Oh dear God.
A wave of nerves streams through my veins, and I think about turning around and bolting for a moment. But this is it, my one chance. So with my chin held high, I thank Terri, and then head back to his office. He props his office door open, and I follow him in.
A corner office, of course. It’s full of rich tones but isn’t pretentious like Roberts’s office. And instead of sitting behind his desk, which is intentionally intimidating, he sits in one of the armchairs in the sitting area of his office.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I sit up straight, trying not to look defeated or exhausted from the day, battling my nerves up until this point.
“I’m interested to know why you waited all day to talk to me,” he starts. “Last I remember, you were dating Silas Taters, but from the article you wrote about him, I’m assuming that’s no longer a topic of conversation.”
Yup, I knew he read the article.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I would love to have a conversation with you where I speak openly and honestly about my situation.”
“Please, so would I,” he says, crossing his ankle over his knee and leaning back in his chair. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“For a job,” I say, which causes his eyes to slightly widen before he lightly chuckles.
“Okay, you’re here for a job. Tell me why you think you would be a good fit for Cane Enterprises.”
Here goes nothing.
“This past summer, I was an intern with Alan Roberts, as you know, headed into my last year of college. For my end-of-internship assignment, where I would get credit for all my work, I was assigned hockey as my general topic.”
“Ah, so the article was your end-of-the-year topic?”
I nod. “I also met Silas at the end of summer. I had no idea who he was, but we became friends quickly, and from there, the relationship grew. When Alan Roberts found out I was dating Silas, he asked me to look into the Agitators organization and to write a ‘gotcha piece’ exposing the dark secrets of the organization.”
“While you were dating Silas?” JP asks as he props his chin up on his hand.
“Yes, I told Roberts that was a conflict of interest, and I wasn’t comfortable doing it.
He persisted. I chose not to go in that direction but rather provide a lifestyle piece on what it’s like to be a professional hockey player.
It was the best I could do, given my background is in lifestyle and that I know nothing about hockey.
I gave the article to Silas so he could read it over to make sure he was good with everything in it. ”
“He was?” JP asks, surprised.