“Not the point. The point is you control the narrative,” I said. ”Do as I say, and by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be as slick as a politician running for office.”
That earned me a quiet laugh. “Slick, huh?”
“This isn’t a joke. You didn’t even read the text I sent you.”
“Look,” he said, straightening to his full height. “I don’t see thepoint, that’s all. People just want to hear someone talk after a loss. I talked. End of story.”
“It’s not end of story,” I said. “It’s the beginning of one. And right now, that story is going off the rails.”
“You’re really wound up about this.” He eyed me with amusement and a hint of curiosity. “It was just one game. I have the whole to–”
“I’m not wound up. I’m doing my job.”
His gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes. So quick I would’ve missed it if he didn’t lick his lips right after.
A whistle blew from the far end of the ice. Coach McAvoy barked something about line changes, and Hunter tossed his water bottle and the newspaper back into the box.
“I want one-on-one time with you,” I said. “You’re more of a trainwreck than I thought.”
“Careful…” He tilted his head, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
I ignored the flutter in my chest. “I’m being serious. Twice a week, before or after practice. You decide.”
Before he could answer, a voice boomed behind me. “Just the man I wanted to see!”
Bob. Of course. He barreled up to the boards, phone in one hand, that stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Callahan, baby, I’ve got a prime sponsorship deal lined up for you.”
“That was fast,” Hunter said, sounding impressed.
I, on the other hand, tried not to draw blood with the way I bit the inside of my cheek. Hunter was my client. That meant his sponsorships were my responsibility.
“You’re going to love it,” Bob said, practically creaming himself. “Mattress King. Biggest mattress store chain in Texas. They want you as their face for the new ‘Dream Defense’ campaign.”
Hunter blinked. “Mattresses?”
“Picture it…” Bob gestured wildly. “You, full gear, diving onto a king-size. Tagline writes itself.”
I stared at him. “I’m going to have to say no on that.”
Bob turned to me, eyebrows up. “Excuse me?”
“That deal isn’t aligned with his brand,” I said, crisp and contrite. “He’s an elite athlete, not a mattress salesman. We’re building a narrative here.”
Bob laughed. “What brand? What narrative? He’s a goalie. Who cares where his face is, as long as it pays. Am I right, Hunter?”
I held up a finger to clip whatever response from Hunter. His jaw snapped shut, and I said, “You brought me on to work with him exclusively, and I’m asking you to let me do that. I already have potential sponsorships lined up.”
Bob’s face went redder. “I brought you on as an intern, sweetheart.”
The man was one ‘sweetheart’ away from a trip to the ICU. Even so, I held my tongue and formulated a more professional response. But before I could get to that–
“Callahan!” Coach McAvoy yelled from across the ice. “That water break ended yesterday. Let’s go!”
Hunter pushed back from the ledge, and pointed at Bob. “Set up the meeting with Mattress King.”
My head snapped toward him. “Hunter—”
But he was already skating off, pushing hard into the ice, long strides carrying him back into the drill. He didn’t look back.
