Page 5

CHAPTER 5

ANNA

T he menu for the Beavertail Diner in front of me blurs as I stare at it, my fingers tracing the edge of the page. This should be an easy decision, I shouldn’t feel like I’m a fledgling law student about to sit the bar exam for the first time. I mean the choice is between a Sourdough BLT with avocado or do I want a chicken Caesar salad? My stomach twists, but not from hunger. The words on both pages swim together, mocking me with their simplicity.

The server appears at our table, sliding two cups of coffee in front of us. The sharp, rich scent wafts up, but it does nothing to settle the tightness in my chest. Sutton glances up with a practiced smile and rattles off her order without hesitation, like the menu has never once betrayed her.

“Take your time,” the server says, turning to me with her pen tapping on her pad, a clear sign of her patience, no?

I grip the menu a little tighter, my knuckles brushing the table as if anchoring myself there will help. My heart beats out a frantic rhythm, and the words on the page look like hieroglyphics. Since when did placing an order become so stressful?

“Nothing for me today,” I hear myself say, the sound of my voice more hollow than I expected. I hand back the menu, not daring to look at Sutton. “I’m not that hungry.”

Sutton’s eyebrow arches slightly over the rim of her coffee cup, but she doesn’t say anything.

The server walks away, and I reach for my coffee, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. It feels steady, solid, even if I don’t.

My gaze drifts to the table, but my thoughts race elsewhere. I picture my dad answering his phone, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Home, work, errands—it doesn’t matter where he is. They always find him. His phone lights up relentlessly, the screen flashing names he doesn’t recognize but already dreads. There’s no escaping it, no pause, no peace.

The bitterness of the coffee matches the taste in my mouth, but I swallow it down anyway. Across the table, Sutton is scrolling through her phone, oblivious to the storm swirling in my head.

I lift the mug again, letting its heat seep into my hands, grounding me as I try to find a steady breath.

“So,” Sutton says as she puts her phone down and faces me, no clue of the raging fire of voices happening inside my head. “Thanks for helping me today.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing about the gala,” I lie through my teeth.

“It’s not so much the gala I need help with, that was my cover story,” she says, her Southern accent is syrupy sweet. “I want to talk to you about the other night, when you stopped by Jimmy’s office. You’ve always been observant in a way not many people are. Your point of view was needed, and it’s probably because of your role. You have good ideas.”

“Thank you.” I can feel a flush creeping across my cheeks. “I’m sorry I piped in that night, but when Lara and Jimmy started talking about Sawyer and comparing him with Ollie, I felt like it was so apples to oranges. I had to say something.”

“I like your confidence.” Sutton watches me with quiet amusement. I’ll take it as a testament to our history. “Not a lot of people in your shoes would have felt comfortable enough to start questioning the owner of the team, and his publicist.”

“Jimmy wasn’t a fan?” I ask, the significance of my stepping out of line suddenly coming into the spotlight.

“No, but he got over it.” She chuckles as she plays with the edge of the saucer. “My brother isn’t used to having someone question him, so when you did, it took him by surprise. He owes you an apology, in my opinion.”

There’s no doubt in my mind right now who must be really running the show in the offices. Something tells me Sutton is a silent and smiling assassin who sneaks in, gets you to do what she wants, and rolls out without anyone ever being the wiser she was involved. This can be a good trait, and it can also be a bad one, too. Like the two witches in the Wizard of Oz, but maybe rolled up into one person.

“That’s nice of you, but also it’s business.” I grip my coffee cup and decide to finally try a sip. It goes down with only a slight lurch in my stomach, which I take as a positive sign. I place the cup back to my lips and take another sip.

“I hear you, but still. There’s kindness in business, too.” She clasps her hands in front of her and leans across the table. “I didn’t ask you here so we could break down Jimmy’s behavior—that’s for me and my therapist. I want to talk to you about you and what you’re doing with your life.”

That sip I’m taking threatens to spray out of my mouth and across the table and all over Sutton. I manage to keep it in and swallow it, too. It’s piping hot and burns the whole way down, but it’s for the greater good. Can’t lose my job by spraying some hours-old coffee on my former babysitter and giving her a third-degree burn now, can I?

“That’s a big question, Sutton.”

“You’re a grown-up,” she says, winking. “Seriously. Are you going to stay working for Ben? It’s fine if you do, I get it. He’s a great guy and if the job works, it works. But I’m curious if you want more.”

“I’ve…” I set my coffee cup back down and let her question sink in. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Which is a lie. Of course I’ve thought about it. I have a business degree, and at some point, I’d like to put it to use. I’ve thought about leaving Ben, and his wife Molly, even though I love them, but only because I don’t want to still be with them when the kids turn sixteen. Granted, they’re only eight and ten now, but still. The Masters are good people and it would be easy to stay working for them forever if it’s what I wanted.

But also, that’s all I know. Assisting and hockey, but still. Am I destined to work for only the Renegades all my life?

I can hear my phone start ringing in my bag and reach for it, but Sutton holds up a hand. “Before you look at it, give me a few minutes to plead my case.” She flashes all five of her fingers. “Five minutes. I’ll even set a timer.”

My lips twist into a grin. I’ve always liked Sutton, and for her to be giving me her time right now and wanting me to listen when she has many other things she could be doing, tells me what she’s got is important.

“Okay. Five minutes.” I grab my phone, don’t look at it, and flick a switch on the side to silence it as Sutton pulls hers out and sets a timer. Laughing, I point to her phone. “Starting…now.”

“Okay,” she says, wiggling into her seat and fighting a tiny grin. “As I said, I like your ideas and I can see potential in you, Anna. I’ve been paying more attention to what’s going on in our executive offices because I’m not thrilled with how my brother is handling this sudden focus to make the team go viral. I feel like they play hockey, that is why we hired them, and I don’t want to change their focus. Now, I get that brand deals and ambassadorships and the like will come along, and I want these guys to take advantage while they can.”

I nod my head, listening, liking what she’s saying so far.

“However, Jimmy pushing them to do more is ridiculous, and frankly, I think his ‘PR team’,” she says using air quotes and punctuating her irritation with an eye roll, “is getting too much access to him and has more influence than I’d like to see—if you know what I mean.”

Judging by the look she gives me, my suspicions that Jimmy and Lara the publicist are a lowkey thing are right, and it doesn’t look like Sutton is having any of it.

“While I agree with you, isn’t it weird that you’re talking to me about the issue you’re having with your brother?” Not that I mind some tea being spilled, but I’m also wary of being pulled into a family situation that also involves where not only I work, but my dad does, too.

“You’re right.” Sutton holds up her hands like she’s under arrest. “I’m sorry. I had a row with Jimmy this morning about the same topic and I’m still smarting from it.” She closes her eyes for a brief second before opening them again and looking at me. “He threatened to let go of Ollie today.”

“What?” This makes no sense to me. “Why? He’s stepped into the star role after Noah decided to retire and become an assistant coach. What’s he done wrong?”

“Noah Beaumont is, was, and will always be a special case,” Sutton says. “He was a star because he was a bad boy, and getting reformed—while also being a kickass player—helped keep his profile boosted in the media. This helped the team, and that’s what Lara keeps saying to Jimmy when she’s in his ear. Which team members are out in the world doing ‘things’ to keep the Renegades on the tip of everyone’s tongue.”

“Unreal,” I mutter, pushing my coffee away. I don’t like that my friend is on the chopping block and it’s NOT because of his talent. “He’s not an influencer, he’s a hockey player. And he’s a great one at that.”

“Sadly, a lot of people look at numbers of followers and virality as a part of the package now. But me? I’m my father’s daughter,” Sutton says, wagging a finger, talking about the man who was in charge until last year. “And he wouldn’t like this. I’m coming to you because of two things. One, to talk about your future because if you’re interested, I want to look at a path for bringing you into the executive offices as part of our marketing team.”

While my jaw goes slack, Sutton continues. “You’re bold, you know all the players, and I’ve seen you handle the guys. This is a role we’ve always outsourced, but I want to build up the people we have already and utilize talent like yours. You may not see it yet, but I do.”

I’m blown away. Did I see this coming? No way. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about, but am I interested? Sure.

“I don’t know what to say.”

She looks at her watch. “Nothing yet, ‘cause I’ve got one more minute. Look, the second thing I wanted to do is talk about Ollie and Lara’s idea for him.”

“Having a fake girlfriend?” I shake my head. “I don’t know about that. It feels so…slimy.”

“No, it’s a good one. And it’s a tactic that people use a lot more than folks realize. I’ve got a friend who is an agent in LA, she’s high up there and has been in her role for a long time. She’s had a few glasses of wine in the past and spilled some names that were ‘PR relationships’ and all I can say is…you would be shocked at who is together because of those kinds of arrangements.”

“No doubt.” I stare at my coffee, knowing that Sutton is staring at me. It’s a fabulous offer, and I will say that I know things, she’s right. But do I really know enough to work on the marketing for an AHL team? “To be honest, when you bring up having me on the marketing team, I feel underqualified.”

“Sometimes on-the-job experience is better than schooling…do not tell your father I said that!” She laughs. “Give me some time. I want to look into our budget, some other logistics, and see what an appropriate timeline could be for you to segue over with us. Once we have a plan, we can talk to Ben together if you want to do it.”

“It’s a lot to think about, but thank you.”

“Think it over. We’ll put a pin in it for now, because I have a bigger ask, about Ollie and the fake-dating…” She looks over her shoulder, a little twitchy like she’s afraid someone might overhear. “I adore him. You’re right, he’s a star player. I don’t want him going anywhere, and if he needs to show off a woman to do it, then so be it. But I want the right one on his arm.”

I nod, completely in agreement as I take my coffee and sink another sip. I could probably eat now that my stomach isn’t rolling like we’re a cruise ship being battered by a storm on the high seas any longer.

“You’ve got a good point. She needs to fit his image and be willing to be pliable enough to not be in the spotlight herself, but to be his prop…I guess?”

“Essentially. She needs to be confident and understand the game, and to know she’ll be well compensated for her role,” Sutton says as she looks at me pointedly. “If you want to do it, we will pay you.”

Her words hit me like a baseball bat. Or a hockey stick to the head, if I’m gonna stay on-brand.

“Pay me? To date Ollie?”

Sutton nods her head while mine spins. My antennae are back up, standing at attention in between a row of red flags waving, and I now regret coming today. “I don’t know, Sutton. It’s weird to think about doing that.”

“I know,” she says, letting out a sigh. “I hate asking, but you seem to me like someone who fits the bill and would understand the assignment without getting emotionally involved or having expectations.” She drops her chin and peers at me. “Honestly, I’m not trying to freak you out. Did I?”

I shrug. “Yeah, a little.”

“Argh,” she growls, covering her face with her hands as her timer goes off, signaling the end of her sales pitch. “Sorry to sound skeevy. I want you to know I’ve got yours and Ollie’s best interests at heart, and I mean what I said about your talent. I’m not trying to compliment sandwich you into doing something for me. I promise.”

There’s earnestness in her voice, and I believe her, but the faded memory of my phone beeping a few moments before pushes me to reach into my purse to find it.

“No, I get it, and I hear you,” I say, digging around.

“If you do it, we’ll pay you ten grand.”

I stop digging. “Come again?”

She nods and holds up her hand. “Scouts honor.”

“Why?”

“Because that team isn’t supposed to have two people running it. It needs to have only one, and it’s not Jimmy.” Sutton’s demeanor shifts slightly as she sits up a little taller. “Gavin is not around because Jimmy makes him mental. I’m willing to do what I need to stop his nonsense. If you give up your personal dating life for a few weeks, attend some events, make sure that Ollie is in the spotlight and looks like a superstar to the world, I will make sure you’re paid.”

“This has to be a joke.”

“Not at all. I know you two are friends, so I feel like it would be a natural thing to have you guys suddenly be like, ‘Ta da, we’re together!’ If you say yes, half of the payment will go into your bank account immediately. The other half will be paid toward the end.”

As things get interesting, my hand lands on my phone. I pull it out of my bag and, with my brain swirling, I look at the screen and am shocked to see at least twenty missed calls from my dad, Ben, Ben’s wife Molly, and an unknown number.

“Hold on, Sutton,” I manage as I hit the button to play my voicemails and put the phone to my ear. As the first message plays, I feel my stomach dipping. It’s an attendant at the River City Hospital.

“I need to go,” I say as I stand up, shooting out of my chair and grabbing my bag.

“Honey, what’s going on?” Sutton’s voice is filled with worry.

“It’s my dad. He’s been rushed to the hospital.”