Hollis
I hate winter.
I hate snow.
I hate the cold.
I hate all the layers you have to bundle up in just to trudge outside for a few short minutes.
The irony behind this distaste for the cold, winter elements is that it’s a big aspect of my job. And as I leave the warmth and comfort of my private chalet at the Bachelor Mountain Lodge and Resort this morning to head to the main lodge, bundled to the hilt with every outer layer of winter wear I could buy, I might even hate my job.
Or maybe not my job, per se, but the complications resulting from the fact that I’m the successor to the owner of the company. I’m the granddaughter of Ace Taylor.
My job as senior publicist at Flying Aces, a prominent PR firm that specializes in working with professional athletes that compete in the winter style sports – skiing, snowboarding, hockey and figure skating–is typically a great gig. I’ve grown up in the business, as my grandfather started it before the Lake Placid Winter Olympics in 1980.
My father took over twenty years ago when my grandfather semi-retired, but after dad died of a sudden heart attack last year, I’ve suddenly been fast-tracked to take over the business. But I’m still under the watchful eye of my granddad, and there are two stipulations I need to meet before he’ll sign over the business to me.
The first one on the list to accomplish is an easy task or it should be. As I head into the main lodge where our publicity meet-and-greet is being hosted this morning, I consider the first one checked off my list with a big green X.
The deal is that I sign on three Alpine skiing champions to our ever-growing list of professional men’s and women’s skiers. And after this morning, I’ll have signed up my last one – Kellan Muller.
In the bag.
The second requirement, however, is a bit trickier, will require a bit more thought and is very antiquated. My grandfather, being an old fashioned romantic, and wanting to ensure his legacy continues after he’s gone, has made it a condition that for me to take ownership of the company, I must be married.
As in, a ring, a groom, a ceremony and the whole shebang.
Not something easily managed this weekend and when I’m not even dating anyone at the moment.
Entering the lobby of the lodge, I shake off the snow that accumulated over my fur-lined hood, along with my concerns over fulfilling this obligation, and I glance around the crowd to locate my assistant, Paula. Several groups of fans and women mingle around awaiting the arrival of my client, Brett Carnegie, a current world-champion skier, to whom this entire weekend event is dedicated to.
A year ago, when I signed him on, I had the brilliant notion of turning him into a household name by getting him a guest starring role on the reality show called “Meet the Celebrity.” The idea is to introduce Brett to millions of reality show enthusiasts who know nothing about the sport of Alpine skiing and to hold a contest for a real-life meet and greet event.
All of that culminated in this weekend event, which so far is turning out to be a huge success, which Paula helped me spearhead and coordinate. We hand selected and invited twenty women for the show, to meet Brett this weekend, with a camera crew following their every move. A pretty dope idea, if I do say so myself.
Paula sees me from across the room and waves me down, looking a little panicked as she rushes over to me where I stand at the breakfast buffet grabbing some coffee.
“Good morning, Hollis. How are you?”
I add my usual three packets of sugar and take my initial sip and assessment of the coffee.
“Oh, this is horrid,” I grimace, spitting it back into the cup in a very unladylike manner, throwing it in the trash can beside me. “Can you check with catering and see if they can get some fresh stuff out here?”
She nods and pulls out her phone, quickly tapping in a note. “On it, boss. Consider it done. Oh, and by the way, one of the contestants had to drop out. Apparently when her husband found out what it was, he told her it was either him or Brett.”
I head over to another table, Paula shuffling after me and quirk an eyebrow. “That’s strange. It’s not like this is a dating show to hook up with Brett or anything. But oh well, her loss and more fun and food for others.”
Paula shrugs, standing next to me at the gift table where I oversee the woman from the event planning company setting out the prize tote bags on display for each contestant to receive. Each bag has their name embroidered on the outside, along with our branded logo. I pick one of the bags up and give it a once over, speaking both to Paula and Cherese, the event planner.
“These look great. Nice work.” I peek inside the tote where I see all the fun prizes, swag, gift cards and entry tickets to the big event tonight with Brett.
Tonight’s event will include raffles for the entrants to win stolen moments alone with Brett. One contestant will win dinner with him, another prize winner a 10-minute dance, another will get to have dessert with him, and the final prize will be after dinner drinks. Where it goes from there is anyone’s guess. That makes for good TV ratings.
And then tomorrow, Sunday, the ski lessons will begin, two groups of ten women each as Brett plays ski instructor to the snow bunnies.
I turn back to Paula, noticing that the caterer is now refilling the coffee carafe with a fresh pot and I smile. I’m going to need lots of coffee to get through this weekend.
“Is everything else ready to go as planned?” I ask Paula, heading back to the coffee service table as she follows at my heels. “Is Brett here and ready for his photo sessions? Should I go talk with the show producer and photographer before my meeting with Kellan?”
