“Like talking to a tall, prickly cactus in a bad mood. That’s what one person said.”
“The fuck?”
Sounds like someone needs to sack up. Just because I’m direct, that doesn’t make me prickly. And if it does, I guess I’m prickly. I have shit to do and I don’t like small talk.
“So anyway, I was intimidated, which is unlike me. That was unprofessional, and I apologize.”
“We can figure it out. There are boards with plays and formations in the locker room, and we can’t have those visible in videos.”
She nods. “I understand. I’ll work with you from now on.”
I should tell her to work with one of my assistants, because it’s not in my pay grade to help the social media coordinator. But I don’t. There’s something about her coming to me for permission on a regular basis that I like.
It’s official. I’m a perv.
“We’re doing a thing at our practice facility tomorrow,” I say, taking a step back. “Talia arranged it. Me and some of the players are playing modified hockey with kids who have disabilities. Is that something you’re interested in?”
Her face lights up. “Are you serious? I’d love to be there to film. I’ll need parental consent since they’re minors, but I could call Talia and work on that tonight.”
“You can ride to Templeton with me. Meet me at my office at one.”
“Okay, see you then.”
I head for the door, turning to look at her one more time. “Enjoy the pity party.”
Her response is a soft, “Thanks.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jules
My sister Blairis my best friend, and her sense of humor is even more irreverent than mine.
“It got a whole lot funnier once I looked him up online. He’s a zaddy.”
I pour my glass of wine to an appropriate fill line and then keep pouring. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“Come on, Jules. That photo of you looking tragic is my new phone wallpaper. I needed something to make me smile every time I see it, and you with mascara running down your face will do nicely. Sending me that selfie was a great call.”
I went to the bathroom after Coach Turner left me in the break room earlier, and I wanted to change my identity and start a new life when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I thought I’d had the worst possible day, but no. I was mortified knowing I had stood there getting warm all over when he called me beautiful, when my eye makeup was on my cheeks.
“That mascara is getting a scathing review.”
“Are we ... sharing that glass of wine?” she quips.
I flick a glare at her. “We are not.”
“Only a little for me. I have a big test tomorrow.”
Blair is in nursing school, and she spends more time studying than she does attending classes. She worries about disappointing me, no matter how many times I tell her it’s impossible.
“If you need to study, I understand,” I say. “I can watch a movie with the boys when they get home.”
Blair has two sons, Eli, seven, and Cooper, five, and they all moved into my tiny two-bedroom apartment when she couldn’t afford her own four years ago. Her ex, the boys’ father, is a deadbeat who took off right after Coop was born, and she struggled to make ends meet even before he left.
Then everything changed when my influencer accounts took off three years ago. I now make more money than I ever dreamed of—more than my new job with the Crush pays—and I was able to buy us a four-bedroom house, support all of us, and put Blair through nursing school.
“No, it’s okay. I’m going to study for an hour when the boys go to bed. I need to help Eli with math homework after his swim.”
