He gave an exasperated sigh. “This is what’s going to happen. We’ll go back in there and do what she says, but don’t even think we’ll actually be partners for this circus. I’ll figure a way out for us because I know you’re too stupid.”
“Fuck off. Maybe finding a solution is one thing we should do together.”
“Jesus Christ.” His voice bounced off the tile. “I couldn’t work with you for ten minutes. You’re so dumb you don’t even know when you’re being insulted.”
Before the echo died, he turned and left me watching his big hockey butt as he marched away.What the fuck?I didn’t want to see his ass, big or otherwise. How the hell was I supposed to keep from killing the bastard before the role play was over?
Back in the conference room, I sat beside him and caught a whiff of something spicy. “I can’t believe you still wear the same cologne you did in college,” I said. “It still stinks.”
His expression hardened. “You’re the one who stinks. Have you considered using deodorant?”
“Fucking slimeball,” I whispered. “Don’t talk to me.”
“You started it.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You always liked this cologne. Go ahead, I know you want to sniff my throat.”
“What? I wouldn’t go anywhere near your throat.”
“We’d better get started,” Marissa said. “An email giving you details about your first appearances will be in your inbox by the time we’re finished here.”
Blake held up a forefinger and asked a question. “Just to verify, we won’t be missing many games, right? Because I have?—”
“You’ll miss as few as possible,” Marissa said. “It’s inevitable you’ll miss some, but as the commissioner already said, we’re holding it to one every two weeks.”
All the sighs on the players’ side of the table were enough to start a windstorm.
Marissa gave Nico and me sheets of paper. “Paquette and Rossi will start because they kick off the initiative the day after tomorrow. They’re our first.”
“At least you’ll be somebody’s first,” Painter said in a stage whisper, drawing a big laugh.
Marissa ignored him and focused on us. “You’ll fly to Atlanta tomorrow, make your first appearances there the next day, and then fly on to Houston.”
My stomach tanked. “But I’ll miss?—”
“You’ll miss a game,” she said. “But then you won’t miss another for two weeks. Most appearances will not require missed games.”
“Fuck.”
Nico snorted and gave me a sideways look.
“What I gave you is the script of a sample interview,” Marissa said. “For now, I’ll be the reporter, and all you have to do is read your parts.”
Nico and I locked eyes again, and if glares had been lasers, we’d have both been vaporized.
Marissa started in. “Packy and Nico, we’ve heard you were buddies in college. Have you remained close ever since?”
When we didn’t move, she tapped the table. “Your line, Packy.”
I looked at the script for the first time and nearly choked. There was no way I’d say the shit she’d written, so I improvised. “Hell no. I’ve stayed as far away from the sleazy bastard as I could get.”
A roar of laughter broke out while Nico looked at his line. When the guys quieted, he raised his head. “Like hell did this fucker stay away. He stalked me until I had to get a restraining order.”
This time, the laughs were even louder. It seemed everyone was enjoying the show except Marissa.
“Stop it right now,” she said. “Read the lines I gave you and make me believe them.”
I grunted. Maybe if I played along, we’d get done faster. “Nico and I were best friends in college and still are.” I sounded as lively as a corpse.
“Hell yes. We text every day. Some nights, we FaceTime to say goodnight.” Nico was as convincing as a voicemail menu.
