Page 15 of Pucking One Night Stand

“Now,” she continues. “Grab your department laptop.”

I unzip the new case and pull it out. It’s light. Sleek. Probably smarter than half the guys I dated in university.

Riley shows me how to sync it with the main system and pulls up the meeting agenda on a split-screen:

09:45 AM – Coaching Staff Briefing

10:30 AM – Media Strategy Review

03:30 PM – Player Engagement Targets

“Done,” she says, glancing at the clock again. “Grab that.” She gestures to the laptop. “Let’s go, girl.”

I rise, snatching it up with a grin.

Okay. Meeting with the coaching staff. That means Dad and his drinking buddies.

Piece of cake.

***

Well… today has zipped by.

And a ‘piece of cake’? No. Definitely not. But it was fun. Even if my dad, sorry, Coach McCullum, acted like he couldn’t pick me out of a two-person lineup. That suits me just fine.

It’s almost 5:45, and I’m just leaving the media lounge after our 3:30 meeting that felt like a group project with very ambitious overachievers.

Player Engagement Targets, the big kahuna of PR buzzwords. The kind of meeting where everyone looks way too awake, the slide decks are color-coded, and someone has actually pre-highlighted their notes.

We covered everything, strategies for making sure our guys don’t accidentally implode on camera, social media campaigns that don’t involve shirtless videos unless approved, community outreach that feels real, not forced. The whole nine yards.

Riley took the reins when it came to managing player-driven initiatives. She was basically running the room and pretendingshe wasn’t. Tarquin and Suzanna, our Media Relations specialists, brought in a color-coded calendar like it was the Holy Grail and talked about interview scheduling and keeping players from repeating, “We gave it 110%” like broken records.

I offered up my thoughts on digital engagement. Suggested a few things that might actually work, short-form content that doesn’t make people roll their eyes, letting the players show personality without turning into clowns.

Andrew, our PR guy with a voice like a podcast intro, made sure all messaging would stay locked in with the team’s brand. Whatever that means. He says, “narrative cohesion” a lot.

Musa, Gretchen, and Holly, the content squad, gave us a full breakdown of their plan to build out some player-driven media content. Behind-the-scenes stuff, fan polls, even a series idea called ‘Roomies on the Road’. It’s weirdly good.

Valerie quietly nodded thoughtfully and threw in just enough words to remind us she was the boss. Strategic alignment, synergy, team ethos. You know. Corporate mating calls.

Yes, I’m exhausted. Yes, it was a little awkward being the new girl with a legacy last name. But, all in all, I loved it.

With most of the department clearing out, I start making my way back to my office. The chatter’s dying down, chairs are pushed under desks, and keyboards are abandoned. People wave as they leave—

“Great job today, Cassy.”

“You’re settling in nicely.”

“Love the blouse.”

I’m half-smiling my way through it like a damn mayor until I pass Valerie, already on her way out, tailored suit, her phone in hand, probably emailing someone important about an emergency involving fonts.

She spots me and calls out, “Well, Cassy, I must say, I’m very impressed with your first day.”

She waits for me to catch up as she turns toward the exit. “Everyone loves you.”

“Miracles do happen,” I say.