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Which meant once or twice a week.

That was probably a good thing. People spent far too much time on social media, myself included.

“I do a lot on Instagram because with a team of orcs, photos really draw attention,” I told her. “Tweets and bleets, or whatever the hell BlueSky is calling their posts, are great for rapid-fire commentary during the game. Facebook is sparse. TikTok is growing, but I need to get together as much video content as I can once they’re back in town to build momentum there. Oh, and I’m working on a YouTube series, but that’s more of a long-term project.”

“Instagram it is.” She punched a button on her phone. “Convenient, since I am there more than anywhere else.”

“You’re there posting graphic pictures of people’s dental procedures.” I grimaced. “Can you try to post something else on occasion? Cute, romantic pictures of you and Ozar together? And tag the team? Everyone vibes with an adorable couple in love, even if there will be some disappointed women who had their sights set on him.”

My friend bristled at the suggestion that she might have competition. “Do I need to stake my claim? Let everyone know that I’m armed with a probe explorer and a periodontal knife, and ready to rumble?”

I laughed. “Jesus, Jordan. That’s terrifying. You absolutely need to post that, maybe with a picture of you holding up those instruments.”

Dentist to the orcs. Hmmm. That was a cool angle I’d like to explore. With some Photoshopping, I could do memes of the team with blacked-out teeth, then one with obviously fake, ultra-white veneers. And if Jordan posted pics of Ozar’s dental implants on her own Insta? I was sure some people might have a morbid fascination about an orc hockey player’s reconstructive dental work and subsequent romance with his dentist.

This contract might be the death of me energy-wise, but it sure was fun. And I was loving every minute of it.

Hopefully it wouldn’t all end on Saturday.

“I need to get going,” I told Jordan. No doubt she would want to talk to Ozar since the team was on the bus and heading back to Baltimore tonight. And I need to get back to work. I had given Daniella and Malik the night off, but I’d go back to the arena and put in another hour or two before going home.

But first, I’d stopped by the Royal Farms and grabbed a couple of energy drinks.

11

ABBY

Iended up not going home that night at all. I went back to the stadium and spent several hours sharing fan photo’s on the main social media, plus giving shout-outs to exceptional pics. There was an amazing one of Ugwyll scowling that had women swooning and posting some rather lurid commentary. Surprisingly, the fan favorite from the night’s game seemed to be Bwat.

The guy had never managed to lay his stick on the puck, hadn’t even assisted in any of the Tusks’ few goals, and certainly wasn’t involved in the scant saves either. His interview after the game had been less hockey player and more Boy Scout. Still….

I totally want to bring home the Golden Retriever of our hometown hockey team! One fan posted along with a picture of Bwat outside post game, an almost shy smile on his face as he squatted down to admire some woman’s poodle.

Okay, everyone loved a guy who had a soft spot for pets - especially the frou-frou kind of pet you didn’t expect a burly green-skinned orc to be enamored with. I could work the pet angle. I could absolutely emphasize the whole Golden Retriever/cinnamon roll thing. But I wasn’t sure how to mesh Bwat’s image with the overall team promotion. The dude wasn’t dynamic on the ice, and a sweet guy who liked little dogs might not be enough to capitalize on.

Thankfully I’d be able to take a more traditional approach with Ugwyll and Ozar for now, and as long as I could double ticket sales and keep this contract, I’d have time to dig in deep for Bwat and the others’ promotional angles.

Once I was done with the post-game social media, I set up some auto-posts announcing tonight’s picture winner, and a few promotion videos cobbled together from footage I’d found from the sidelines during the last few home games. Then I hauled boxes of merchandise up to the ticket sales area, hanging team jerseys that the orcs would have worn had the owner not been so fixated on them being half naked during the games. Displaying logo water bottles, coffee cups, koozies, and hats, I stashed the supplies in the closet behind the ticket area, and set the price lists up front where the folks who sold tickets and handed out the on-call orders could encourage fans to buy Tusks’ swag.

Glancing at my watch I debated going home for a few hours of sleep, or just crashing on the threadbare tweed couch in my office. I opted for the couch, and was asleep the moment my head hit the cushions.

Something was tickling my face. I swung a hand at it, opened my eyes at the giggled response. Daniella and Malik stood in front of me. There was a moment of confusion where I wondered why the pair were in my apartment, then I realized I wasn’t in my apartment.

“You’ve got a little.” Malik brushed an index finger along the side of his mouth. “Right there.”

I mirrored his movement and wiped away the drool from my face. Great. They’d caught me asleep on the couch in my office, drooling and wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“I brought you coffee.” Daniella lifted a go-cup to my face and I inhaled the amazing aroma of dark roast.

“God bless you.” I took the coffee and struggled to sit up on the couch. “You all are here early.”

“Uh…it’s eight o’clock, Abby,” Malik informed me.

“Shit!” I jumped to my feet and straightened my shirt, trying in vain to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric. “What are the numbers on ticket sales? Have either of you checked the social media feeds? Is the videographer scheduled for the game tonight? Did the sponsorship banners arrive from the printer yet?”

My co-workers exchanged a look. I didn’t like that look. It was the exact one my mom got on her face every time I went home over the holidays.

Daniella took a deep breath. Her eyes met mine. “Abby, we’ve got this. Malik and I have all the details on our Trello apps. The project plan. The timeline. You don’t need to be sleeping on the couch here. You don’t need to be working until the wee hours then up again at dawn.”