3. Mimi
Mimi
Naomi called me the next morning, and she didn’t say, “Hi, honey,” like usual. Instead, she groaned into the phone, “I’m never going to another charity event.”
I bolted upright in a messy bed. “What? Are you okay? What do you need?” I hadn’t slept well, and my body had soaked itself in a thick sheen of sweat. My feet slammed into the floor, and my heart raced as Adam groaned from somewhere nearby. He sounded like a wounded moose.
“I’m sixty percent sure I’m dying,” Naomi mumbled. “And Adam is even worse. He just moans.”
“Not all the time. Sometimes I’m sick,” Adam said.
I darted to my small closet and pulled on a pair of yoga pants. “Food poisoning?”
“Must be,” Naomi croaked. “Thank goodness Felix isn’t here right now.”
Yet another reason to be glad I’d left before eating anything—that wine had been the warning I needed.
“I’m on my way—”
“No. God, no, don’t come here. Seriously. It’s Haz-mat level.” Naomi gagged. “But that’s not the reason I called. Well, it is. Stay away from us. But also…”
A notification buzzed on my phone.
“Look at that.”
My stomach twisted at the headline: WILDCATTERS ROOKIE IN ROMANTIC RESCUE AT DISASTER GALA.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Naomi said. “Your fall is the only positive thing people remember about the event. Which is great, because this shared affliction currently bonds most of the donors.”
Adam groaned. “PR team wants to lean into your meet-cute as the night’s narrative.”
I closed my eyes. “I hate that phrase.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Naomi said. “It’s the only pearl of goodness from a shit night and worse morning after. By the way, food poisoning is vile. Worse than the flu.”
I stared at my pale face, wide eyes, and messy hair in the full-length mirror. “I don’t … I can’t …” I wore a sleep shirt and yoga pants—nothing remotely sexy. I hadn’t dated seriously ever.
Being in the paper was a shitshow, and I wanted no part of it. I never wanted details of my life splashed across digital screens for others to revel in. Nothing sounded worse.
“We need you, Meems. This is that whole crisis management you study.”
“I don’t know everything about risk mitigation yet. I still need to finish—”
“Which is why I told them you’d help only if you get course credit,” Naomi said. “Congratulations. You’re now managing a nightmare in real time, and it’s worth two full classes. You’re welcome.”
I deflated because she was right, and I was ambitious enough to want to test my skills. Plus, those two course credits meant I could graduate this semester—ahead of schedule and without taking any more of my sister’s money for tuition.
I sucked in a breath. “Okay. What do I have to do?”
“Someone from the front office will call you. Answer. Do your voodoo. Save us all, young Jedi.”
By nine, I had showered, drunk coffee, and dressed in my nicest blouse and trousers that would soon stick to me because of the soaring temperatures and the lack of cooling in the building.
The manager said they needed to install a whole new unit, and that would take up to a week.
There was no way I could live in this heat for that long.
But that was the least of my issues as I pulled up a video call with the Wildcatters’ PR people: Lydia Breitbart, the social media manager Naomi disliked, and a man named Hugh Durant, who introduced himself as a damage-control specialist.
“Hi, Mimi,” Lydia said. “Glad you can help us out on this. Hugh was the only available consultant on such short notice. Gah, are we happy he’s willing to help us through this tough time.”
I wasn’t. If he was the only one…well, that didn’t sound promising.
Lydia tipped her head, brows tugged together.
“Are you feeling well? You’re flushed. Naomi said you didn’t eat any of the seafood.
Please tell me you didn’t eat the seafood.
The whole coaching staff and most of our first line are so sick, and they have their opening game next Saturday.
I can’t see how they’re going to be in any condition to skate for hours. ”
“I didn’t.” I quickly explained the air conditioning problem.
“Oh, this is better and better,” Hugh crowed. “We’ll move you in with Evan now. Everyone will love your whirlwind romance. Write that down, Lydia. Make it happen.”
My jaw unhinged, and I gaped. “What? No way. I don’t even know him—”
“We’ll push the ‘sweet rookie romance’ angle.” Hugh ploughed over me, his smile flashing too-white teeth. “And having him save you from that fall is click gold.”
Lydia stared hard at me. “It would help the organization so much, Mimi. And you’ll get to cool off. We need this press to take the heat off our sick team. If I’m pushing your romance, no one will question why there isn’t practice tomorrow. I know Evan has the space. I can talk to him.”
My throat constricted. Sweat trickled down my temples and more collected at my lower back. The situation here in my apartment would only worsen, and I was too hot to come up with a better solution.
My mother had drained my savings account, so I couldn’t afford a hotel for the week; I couldn’t stay with Naomi, though she and Adam would insist if I told them about my mom, which was exactly why I hadn’t and wouldn’t.
Naomi didn’t need the added stress. Relief washed over me at the thought of completing my degree sooner—and with less debt.
“Not only would you be helping the team,” Hugh crooned, “but you’ll get to add the organization to your resume. All for such a small price of a few dates and a cool place to sleep.”
Hugh hit right where I was vulnerable, and his smug expression said he knew it. Adding the Wildcatters to my resume would be a big boost to my summer counseling gigs.
“Only if Ev’s okay with it. And it’s temporary.” The heat made my brain mushy. That was what I told myself because there was no way I actually wanted to spend more time with Evan Pelletier.
Nope. I was smarter than that.
“Great.” Hugh clapped his hands. “Now that we’re furthering the narrative, let’s discuss the angle. You clasped in Ev’s arms is pure media clickbait. Such a beautiful couple.”
“We aren’t anything, and I tripped,” I said.
“And he caught you,” Hugh replied. “America adores catching.”
My eye twitched. Hugh leaned closer to the screen, his eyes flat and his mouth set in a hard line.
“Look, we need Evan in a controlled environment. The Catters had issues with the last round of rookies, and the team cannot go through that again. That’s why Coach Whittaker chose Evan Pelletier.
He’s supposed to be a fresh start with a sweet face and persona.
Now that people saw the two of you together and are…
what do you call it? Shipping. And it’s already helped improve the brand. ”
I cringed even harder. God, make him stop talking.
Lydia swooped in. “What Hugh is saying is that the team needs to ensure Evan doesn’t hit a club.
There can be no other woman. No viral chaos.
” She smiled, but I didn’t smile back. No wonder Naomi disliked her—Lydia had just added babysitting duties to my to-do list…
like I had a right to tell Evan Pelletier what to do.
“What are you not saying that you’re actually saying?” Suspicion crept up the back of my neck. Hugh was up to something, and I wouldn’t like it.
He flashed that mega-watt smile. “We think it would help if you two were seen together. Casually. Comfortably. Frequently.”
I blinked. “To be clear: you plan to post reels of me fake-dating your goalie?”
Hugh beamed. “Temporarily assist with narrative stabilization to pre-empt the issues with the fundraiser.”
“We can’t let anyone know about the food poisoning,” Lydia insisted.
That felt wrong. Off. People knew. Just as they knew about the open light socket. I bit my lip.
She shrugged, but her eyes narrowed, and she went in for the kill. “Look, Hugh’s been helping with this entire shindig.”
That definitely didn’t seem right. Crisis management people weren’t event planners.
“And the hotel manager told Hugh the silk tapestry you destroyed is a thousand years old and basically priceless. So, really, you owe us.”