“He shouldn’t,” Tim said.
“That’s something entirely different,” I muttered as I settled back in my seat, eyes still on the ice. Jeff skated toward the locker room without looking at the crowd. “I hope they make the call to trade him soon,” I said, my voice low. “He’s throwing off the team’s chemistry.”
“Jay can’t handle Jeff,” Tim mused. “So he expects you to work your magic on the clown, I guess. Or maybe this is a punishment for the mascot thing.” He shrugged. “You can always go to Gunnar?—”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll manage.”
Tim turned to face me. “I don’t like the way Jay’s been acting. He and Jeff chat way too often, and I can’t see anything good coming of it, especially if he’s putting you on the account when he’s been so involved until now.”
I bit my lip as I nodded. “I have to do my job, Tim.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Just…be careful. With both of them.”
After a long week, on Friday evening, after my colleagues had left, I was still in the office because I couldn’t face going home. I’d put together two different extensive social media plans for Jeff and was working on a third, mostly because I didn’t want to see my mother slowly fading in front of me.
Cowardice remained as unbecoming now as it had been in second grade when Nora Kramer had called me a slimy gypsy orphan. I’d been terrified to stand up to her, and I’d suffered stomachaches and headaches for two weeks until my father took me out for ice cream and pried the details of her taunting from me.
During that hour together, he’d said something I’d stuck to every day of my life: “When someone is mean or tries to bully you, remember that their behavior is a mirror of their struggles and insecurities, not yours. You don’t have to drop to their level.”
He’d gone on to tell me he knew me, knew that I was a kind, confident person, and all I had to do was stay true to myself. “Keep on doing you by standing up for what’s right,” he’d said. He’d told me I was stronger than I thought and so special to him and my mother. “Never—and I mean never—let anyone make you feel otherwise,” he’d concluded. “Or like you should be anyone other than yourself.”
I was letting my mother’s prognosis steal precious time with her. I wasn’t being brave or myself and the fear, the spiraling thoughts, had won this week. I was angry about that, but unable to stop myself from falling prey to my worries.
“Zaila. Hey. What are you still doing here?” Gunnar asked from the doorway, startling me from my thoughts. He leaned against it as if he had no cares weighting him to his desk. Maybe he didn’t. He was wealthy and, according to the internet, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country, not just the city.
I held up a stack of papers. “I put together some more social media plans after I went through this past week’s analytics.”
Gunnar nodded. “I appreciate the effort, but it’s late. You should go home.”
“I will soon. I wanted a head start on next week’s presentation, which is about fixing Jeff’s image.”
Gunnar frowned as he stepped into my office. “Wait. Why are you working on Jeff’s image? That’s Jay’s job. He and I discussed it at length a few weeks ago—right after that meeting with the players.”
My jaw clenched as I stared at him. How dare he meddle in my job and how I did it? Now suddenly I had value to him? If he had questions, he should talk to Jay. I lifted my chin. “Well, my boss gave me the account.”
Gunnar narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m working,” I said, stressing the second word.
“But I don’t pay you to work this late on a Friday night. You’re young. You should be out with friends, partying, making bad choices?—”
“Regardless of what you saw at the karaoke place,” I broke in, too annoyed to be appropriately respectful. “I’m not interested in that. Never have been. I…” I shook my head. “You know what? My personal life is none of your business, Mr. Evaldson. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish this.” I looked down at the stack of papers, my gaze sliding across the words and numbers without a bit of comprehension.
“I do mind.” Gunnar strode forward with soft, steady footfalls until he was right in front of my desk. Then he had the audacity to round it and lean his lean hip against the edge, lifting one muscled thigh straight into my line of sight.
I hadn’t needed the reminder of his attractiveness, nor did I want it. My eyes still worked just fine, even in the dimmed lighting the building shifted to after six p.m. With a mulishness I hadn’t exhibited since childhood, I dropped the paper to my desk and swung my gaze up to Gunnar’s. “What do you want?”
He studied me for a long moment. The silence turned oppressive as my mind once again chewed over my mother’s illness. I wanted to be there to hold her hand when she went, but I couldn’t bear to say goodbye, and it would be forever…
“Why are you working on Jeff’s account?” Gunnar asked again.
“Because Jay told me to.” Suddenly I wanted to say more, to tell him Tim was worried about Jay and Jeff and whatever they were concocting, but both men were already on Gunnar’s bad side. Tattling wouldn’t help anyone, least of all me.
“That’s outside your scope?—”
“Jay’s my boss,” I cut in. “So, if he hands me an account, I take it on.” I squeezed my hands tightly, trying to keep myself together.
Gunnar had hurt my feelings, made me feel small and unworthy when he’d ditched me at the retreat. I drew a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to regain my composure and my ability to have a rational, calm discussion.
