Page 35 of Something to Prove

I clutched my chest with a gasp. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, same as I always do after our testosterone-laden locker room ventures. I escaped before you. I had to. The smell of body odor was stronger than usual,” he reported. “I was about to vamoose, but I spotted you chatting with none other than our man of the hour.”

“Um…yes.” I opened the car door and tossed my bag inside.

“Mr. Czerniak must be quite thrilled with hisWhat’s New, Smithton?collaboration. I recorded some nice footage tonight to add to his lore. It helps that he had a great game. All in all, I’d say this went well, don’t you think?”

“He wants to do it again.” I puffed out my cheeks in exasperation.

“Another interview?”

“No, he wants to come with me to the diner to make milkshakes.”

Robin wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Good press. We used him for a story, now he wants to use us.”

“Oh.” His brow creased as if weighing the pros and cons of an extended venture with Smithton’s jock of the hour. After a moment’s consideration, he nodded. “It’s a favorable proposition.”

“You think so?”

“Affirmative. Pooling your combined star power for a few episodes should result in even higher ranking than we currently enjoy.” Robin patted my shoulder. “You’ve turned a hopeless situation into a win. Well done, my friend!”

I smiled awkwardly.

Maybe Robin had the right idea. This was business. Nothing personal. The kiss, the blowjob, the heart palpitations that occurred whenever Ty was in the vicinity were inconsequential. I had control here, and I could handle a couple of hours more in his presence without losing perspective.

I hoped.

CHAPTER 12

TY

Two hundred andfifty-three thousand followers.

Make that two hundred and sixty. Two-seventy.

Fuck, each time I checked my cell, I gained another ten thousand. Or more.

“This isn’t normal,” Toby cautioned. “I hope you know that. I guaran-damn-tee you I’ve never had an AHL’s PR team go fucking bananas over a newly signed rookie’s social feed. I’ve been fielding calls from someone named Magnus who knows a guy atSports Illustrated, but?—”

“Whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Toby.What’s New, Smithton?works because it’s small-town college content. Going bigger is too much, too soon. I need to prove I have what it takes on the ice first.”

Toby chuckled on the line. “You don’t have to tell me how it works, Czerniak. I’m a goddamn dinosaur. I have sixty-plus apps on my phone, I use five of them, and I don’t know how to get rid of the others without giving myself a headache. I know this, though—you got nothing if you don’t have game. Thing is…we know you’ve got game, and the Jackals know you’ve got game. Why not show off at Smithton? Get in on the redhead’s action. Consider this experiment a personal editorial or a sneak peek atthe life and times of young Ty Czerniak. A subtle nudge to the hockey community that something special is coming their way. Emphasis on subtle. Where’d you say you’re going today?”

“Uh…to the diner. We’re learning how to make milkshakes.”

“Good. That sounds like a wholesome upgrade from the pics of you and the bikini crew. Not that I’m judging, but let’s not lose sight of something important here. This shit works ’cause of the redhead. He’s got charisma. Stick with him and don’t get your head turned around by a big-bosomed waitress—or a cute guy, ya hear me?”

I snorted at his quick “cute guy” add-on, though I appreciated that he made the effort to be politically correct while still being slightly offensive.

“Right. I should go. Later, Toby.”

Crap. What had I gotten myself into?

Milkshakes.

That was what I’d gotten myself into.