She flipped over the next card, revealing The Fool. Hillary felt an internal scoff as her eyes flew up to the woman who merely smirked at her.
“I see what ye’re thinking, my dear. Please have no misconception about this card. This is a truly remarkable card. It is the card of a fresh start, a clean slate, a new journey.”
Hillary nodded, taking in the cards in front of her. This wasn’t really anything she had held much stock or belief in. Yet something about the cards and the woman before had her questioning that.
"What do ye say, lass? Do the cards ring true?"
A rough chuckle came from her. "Yeah," she said with a nod. "A little too true. Where did Sasha find you?"
"No need to worry about that. In fact, no need to worry about anything tonight. I think you've earned a night of fun. Just follow your heart and let your hair down. I have a feeling this night is going to be a smash. So why don't ye enjoy it?"
Something about the woman's confidence and the completed checklist on her phone told her that this woman might be right. Maybe it was time for her to finally let her hair down. As she looked around the room, she saw that the guests were slowly starting to arrive, and everything was running according to plan. She was right, there really was nothing left for her to do but enjoy herself.
"Ya know what, I think I might try that tonight."
"Sounds like a wonderful change for ye, my dear."
Hillary nodded. She could do it. She could let go just for tonight. What was the worst that could happen?
"I'm going to go get a drink. I hope you have a wonderful night," she said to the fortune teller.
"You too, I hope ye let your hair down and live it up. Ye're only young once."
Hillary made her way over to the bar. While she hadn't felt young in a long time, if ever, if she was being honest, something about that card reading was sticking with her. She worked hard. She'd set up a wonderful team. Maybe it was time to live it up a little.
"Vodka and cranberry," she told the bartender.
"Coming right up."
She turned and took in the room. The music had started, and the silent auction would be open soon. And the players were arriving. It was going to be a good night.
She grabbed the drink from the bar and made her way over to some of the players. "Hey guys, don't be stingy with the auction items, this is to fund the organization’s charities."
"We got you," said Wes Darling with his signature cocky grin.
"I already know the item I'm bidding on. I'll be right back," said a distracted Conner McPhee.
Then Murphy turned to her with a grin covering his face. "I'm so excited to be a part of it this year. I'm going to check them out carefully and pick the best thing."
She couldn't help but smile at him. It was his rookie year, and there was just something about him that made her smile. He was always volunteering for everything, and she could tell he was trying his best. In her time here, she'd seen lots of players come and go. Murphy O’Rourke was a good one. She hoped he'd be around for a while.
"If I have any questions, I'm going to come find you," he said with his signature broad grin.
"You do that."
"And then maybe I'll find you later for a dance as well."
She cocked her head to the side. She was ten years older than him, so what harm could a dance do? She took a long sip of her vodka cran. "You sign up with the professional athlete money, and I'll dance with you."
"I'm going to take you up on that," he said, smiling at her again before he turned and made his way over to the silent auction.
2
MURPHY
The music thumped as he downed another shot with his teammates. This was his first full year playing with the Magic. Sometimes he still had to pinch himself to believe that all his dreams had come true. All those parties he missed in college to make sure he was in peak shape, all the traveling he did playing hockey instead of hanging out with friends. Hockey had been his life. It had even gotten him into BU, and the summer after his junior year got drafted by the Magic. He finished his degree before he started playing with the organization.
He looked around at all these players whom he'd looked up to for most of his life, who were now his colleagues. It was hard to believe this was his life. He made his way to the dance floor, his eyes again finding their way back to Hillary. She was the team's PR manager and handled the team's image like a well-oiled machine. Was she terrifying? Yes. Was he also drawn to her in ways he couldn't quite comprehend? Yes. Yes, the fuck he was.
