Page 77 of Brooklynaire

“The Blackhawks, huh?” Georgia asks, tapping her lip. “I guess that makes sense. He wouldn’t have been a Minnesota fan, because that’s an expansion team that formed after his family leftMinnesota.”

“Just askhim.”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it, but this reporter won’t go away. I get a weird feeling from her. Like she has some bit of gossip and won’t come clean. But I can’t figure out what itis.”

“That is weird,” I admit. On the other hand, I can’t imagine what’s so fascinating about Nate owning a hockey team. It’s what rich white guys do. “Maybe she’s trying to spin it likeRevenge of the Nerds. Brainiac enjoys brutality on theice.”

“Don’t we all,” Heidi Jo says on asigh.

Georgia gives me an eye roll. “Later,babe.”

“Later!” I turn my attention to my sidekick. “I’m going to check with the stadium staff to see if they have any notes for me. And make sure the players have everything they need in their dressingroom.”

Heidi Jo’s hand shoots up in the air. “I volunteer astribute.”

Sigh. “And then I’ll look over the corporate box to make sure it’s set up for…” For that man I’m trying so hard not to think about. “Let’s go,” I say. “Ticket boothfirst.”

I head for the elevators, with Heidi Jo at my heels. “When you say the corporate box?” the intern asks, “Do you mean Mr. K’sbox?”

The fact that she’s given him a new nickname grates on me. But I bite back a nasty comment. “That’s theone.”

“Is it fancy? I’ve never met a billionaire beforetoday.”

“He doesn’tlivethere,” I grumble. “It’s your usual rich guy decor. Velvet stadium seats. Paneled walls. Chandeliers. Exotic dancers on the halfhour.”

“What?”

“Male and female. Don’t tip them, though. They’re onsalary.”

Heidi Jo’s eyes bulge, and I feel like aheel.

“Just kidding about that lastthing.”

“Youdotipthem?”

Shoot me. “There aren’t any strippers. The hockey game is enough excitement. But there’s champagne if we win, a hundred other beverages if we don’t. Oh, and these warm cheese puffs that Georgia speed eats when she’s tense.” My stomach rumbles just thinking aboutthem.

“It’s not nice to tease me,” Heidi Jopouts.

“I’m sorry.” Great. I’ve kicked a puppy. But Heidi Jo brings out the worst inme.

“How are you feeling?” sheasks.

“Peachy.” I’m tired and hungry. I need twelve continuous hours of sleep in my own bed. The doctor warned me that my first week back would be rough, and to take it easy. The doctor clearly has no idea what it’s like to be at ground zero of the hockey playoffs. This is my life. This is my job, and I love my job. Sleep canwait.

“Does your headache?”

“Nope. I’mgood.”

“I could find you asnack…”

“Heidi? Stop it. I’mfine.”

She gives me a wounded look. “Okay. Just say theword.”

* * *

The puck dropsright on time at seven-thirty. That’s when my workday ends. I could actually go home right now and start catching up on all the sleep I’vemissed.