“Want me to drive you home?”
“Sorry, Allison, you’re needed in Andrew’s office— like now. It’s urgent.” Talia, the assistant, tells me before turning to Emalyn. “Oh wow. You definitely need to go home.”
“Whatever. Maybe. I’m supposed to be shooting some behind the scenes shots today.” She waves a hand through the air dismissively. I raise abrow at her back, knowing she won’t slow down unless someone makes her.
“Did he say what it’s about?” I ask Talia, her words only just registering.
“Nope. Sorry.” She gives a polite smile and rounds her desk, immediately clicking away on her computer.
I take a right towards the PR department offices. Close to the rink. Cold. I wore a sweater today, the cold having a bite to it now that I’ve had a taste of warmer weather.
I knock once on the open door of Andrew’s office. When he notices me, his mouth sets in a firm line. He stands to shake hands with the player was meeting with, quickly dismissing him.
“Alli, come in. Please, close the door.” Andrew gestures to the seat across from him with one outstretched palm. He’s using his PR voice-professional, neutral.
I take the second that closing the door grants me to collect myself, schooling my features into their own professional mask as well.
“Thank you for coming in.” He leans forward, hands clasped but stops himself. Instead opting to open a file and slide it toward me. “This folder came across my desk this morning. No name.”
I peer at the file- and my stomachdrops. My face heats instantly. Refusing to feel ashamed, I lift my chin.
“Yes. What you see in these pictures is a consensual relationship between two adults. I should’ve disclosed sooner,” I close the file containing photos of Tate and I close to each other and even kissing in different settings. Not to mention the most mortifying— Me, coming out of the supply closet, mussed and blushing followed by a picture of a thoroughly kissed Tate exitingwith his zipper down.
I take a deep breath and plaster on a look of confidence that I do not feel. Andrew leans back in his chair, chin resting on his fist. He just looks at me, assessing.
“I’m not telling you who to involve yourself with, Allison. All I can say is that this isn’t going to look great to the CCO. I can give my recommendation, and I was privileged to share the news of the promotion with you but ultimately— It's not up to me.” Andrew gives me an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, this is about optics.”
“Optics? I earned my spot and that has nothing to do with any of the players. Not TJ and not Tate,” I lean forward in my chair, snatching up one of the printed photos. “Iearnedit. How many times has Hudson slept on the very couch because I was working late keeping the reputation of this team and its players intact.”
“I know. Allison, I’ve seen your hard work and dedication. I still believe you’re the best fit, but it’s not me who will still need convincing.” Andrew rubs his stubbled jaw, “The fact of the matter is this is about perception— and leverage.”
My chin pulls back in confusion.
“But..he’s not my boss?” Andrew grimaces, looking uncomfortable with my question but he continues anyway.
“Not on his part. You being head of PR would put you in the position to smear his reputation if the relationship went south. This is about protecting the team.” He says gently. A stone settles in my gut. “It isn’t a direct policy violation.”
I nod, twisting my fingers in my lap. I wrack my brain trying to find something, anything to say.
“You know, I never make decisions lightly. I wouldn’t risk my position here— or anyone else’s. I have too much at stake.”
“Don’t misunderstand, Alli. I’m not telling you what to do or who to be with. This needs to stay clean and separate. Don’t risk what you’ve worked for on a single year contract player. He could be gone this time next year and it would be you left to face the fallout.”
“I’ll… keep that in mind.” I say, voice trailing off as the weight of his words hit me. He’s right. I hate that he is. I can’t risk my career- it’s my only way to provide for Hudson. Jameson, our CCO, has been known to be ruthless when it comes to internal scandals. I’ll have to play my cards carefully. I’m nearly out the door, hand on the handle when Andrew speaks again.
“I’ll support you however I can.”
I give him an acknowledging nod and return to my desk. I’m supposed to be selecting a new social media content creator for the team per new responsibilities being delegated to me. My head is not in it today. Still, I plaster on a professional mask when a knock sounds at my door. A young man, possibly early twenties, hovers at the door looking nervous. He pushes up his thick framed glasses at the corner.
“I’m here for the interview— Donovan Holland.” His black hair is slicked back, and he wears a button up and slacks.
“Come on in.” I smile warmly. His shoulders seem to loosen as he lets out a nervous exhale. “Let’s get started.”
About halfway through the interview, I decide I don’t need to see any other candidates. He’s competent and aware of the trends. Surprisingly enough, he already has some PR background. It wasn’t required but helped to be a selling point for him. The grin that breaks out across his face when I tell him he got the job is one I wish I could match.
Still, my mind lingers on my own situation. By lunch, I’ve been staring at my computer screen for hours now.
I’m never going to get anything done like this. I push away from my desk and grab my purse. As I'm walking down the hall that passes the players locker room, I notice Tate coming out of it in full gear.
