Page 5 of Bagging the Blueliner
I’d heard this song and dance before. “Yes, but do any of them know more than me?”
There was a hint of a smile in his voice. “One or two of them might have some experience, being former players and all.”
He meant it as a joke, but the insinuation grated on me and I turned on him. “Are you saying that because I’m agirland can’t play the same professional game as the men, I don’t have an intimate knowledge of the game?”
“Hanny, you know I would never say that. Sometimes, I think you can analyze the game better than me.”
I huffed. “Then why is it a problem if I want to spend my Friday night watching film? Is my insight not valuable to the front office?”
“Of course it is.” Dad tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I know how much you love the game, and maybe it was wrong of me to try and keep you from it.”
Oh my God. This is it.
He was going to lift the daughter-dating ban. It was about damn time. My older sisters were married, and Dad had finally seen the light. He recognized that I was a grown woman and could make my own dating decisions.
I’d been patient—well, not really—and now I was being rewarded.
“I’m listening,” I prompted.
“I talked to some people, and I think it’s time to bring you on in a professional capacity, working with the Comets.”
Wait, what?
“You’re offering me a job?” I asked, stunned at how quickly my hope was dashed. I should have known better. No one was as stubborn as my dad, except maybe me.
“Well, you’re not exactly working at the moment. I thought bringing you on to the Comets would be right up your alley.”
He wasn’t wrong about my employment status, but it still stung.
I had a nasty habit of career-hopping.
My passion was singing, but I was unwilling to move to pursue that dream beyond anthem singing for the Comets.
I’d tried my hand at being an influencer, but apparently, I was too outspoken for some people. Who even knew that was a thing? I was of the opinion that you could take me as I was or leave me, but that attitude wasn’t exactly good for business. My personality was an acquired taste.
I burned through jobs at the same rate the playboys on the team burned through women. The list of failed attempts was longer than I cared to admit.
Personal shopper—again, too opinionated.
Dog walker—too much cleanup.
Nanny—there were only a handful of kids I could tolerate, and they belonged to my best friend, Natalie.
Club promoter—caught too many times making out on the clock.
Yeah, I wasn’t particularly proud of my inability to hold down a job or my continued reliance on my parents for financial support.
I didn’t know what it was. Nothing had ever clicked and made me happy. Maybe what I was searching for didn’t exist.
“I don’t know, Dad . . .” I protested.
“You haven’t even heard what the position is.”
Ugh. He had me there. “Okay, what’s thisamazingjob you have for me with the Comets?”
“Well, I know how much you love to have your hand in the game, and what better way to be at every game than to take on the role of our travel coordinator? You’d be responsible for contacting the hotels we use in each city, booking the rooms, and organizing any other accommodations we might need there. Italso would require you to travel on the road with the team. How can you say no to that? Plus, the pay would allow you to move out of here and get your own place.”
Eyeing him, I asked, “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
