Page 2 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
We both know this isn’t what he’s talking about. He’s talking about my refusal to take over Kaedie’s job.
I launch into an explanation of the kinds of posts and videos that have been doing well lately and show him the content calendar I’ve been revising to keep up with the latest trends and updates across platforms.
He nods along for a minute but sighs again and interrupts me mid-word. “That’s all great, Mags. You’re fantastic at this part. You know that. That’s not the thing that’s bothering me.”
I paste on my best innocent face and blink up at him from my chair. “It’s not?” I gesture at the computer. “But thisismy job. The social media part. Creating and scheduling posts, replying to comments, tracking the metrics. I’m the social media manager. If you’re happy with how I’m handling that, then I’m not sure what else would be bothering you.”
He folds his hands together, his index fingers extended. He presses them against his lips and inhales deeply, then points at me. “You know how much I value everyone being a team player.”
Wrinkling my eyebrows together, I look around the room. “Given it’s just the two of us right now, I’m not sure ‘team’ is the right word. Speaking of, have you looked at any of the resumes we got from my post letting people know we’re hiring?”
Another sigh, but at least he stops doing the weird two-finger pointing thing. “You know how hard it is for me to find an assistant.”
Done with the bullshit, I give him a flat look. “I’m not going to be your assistantandyour social media manager, Brock. Either you pick someone and call them in for an interview, or I’ll decide the best way for me to be a team player is to do it myself.” I have to pause and grit my teeth after that. I’m so fucking tired of picking up the slack for these assholes who barely manage to wipe theirown asses. Hell, in Brock’s case, maybe he doesn’t. He seems like the type who’d decide it’s too gay to clean his own asshole.
Swallowing back a gag at the thought, I take a deep breath and keep going, not letting him talk over me this time. “I am not your assistant,” I reiterate. “I will notbeyour assistant. And this time, you need to hire someone you don’t want to sleep with. If you keep sleeping with and firing your assistants, one of these days you’re going to get sued. And you’ll lose.”
He waves that away. “Kaedie was a terrible assistant, and you and I both know it. I was already planning on firing her before I fucked her. She can try to sue if she wants to, but I didn’t fire herbecauseI fucked her. I fucked her because I was going to fire her.”
My mouth opens as I search for a response to that. After a beat, I close my mouth and my eyes, take a deep breath, and shake my head. “Well, regardless. It doesn’t look good. If you want to get picked up by a network, you can’t act like that. They’ll decide you’re a liability and won’t go anywhere near you.”
His eyes narrow, and he looks at me like he wants to pitch a fit, but he knows I’ll just walk out if he tries it. We’ve been over this enough times that he’s learned I won’t be screamed at.
Instead, he scans me up and down, a sneer on his face. “It’s a good thing you’re so good at your job. As a single mom, you’re barely worth a pump and dump. You’re hot, but you’re far more valuable managing my social media than as a piece of ass.”
I start slow clapping. “Good job, Brock! You’re so close to realizing I’m an actual human being. Keep going! One day you’ll get there!” And on that note, I pick up my water bottle, grab my purse, and brush past him.
“Maggie!” he yells after me, but I just flip him off in response and head for the door. It’s close enough to the time I leave to pick up Liam from school that Brock’ll figure it out. He’s a big dumb asshole, but he knows my schedule. Even if he tries to pretend he doesn’t when it’s more convenient for him.
But when I get to the door, I stop, hands going up as though to ward off an attack, though the man in front of me has his hands up too, his face as startled as I imagine mine is.
“Whoa,” Jack Bouchard says, catching me by the shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jack
I catchBrock Savage’s assistant by the shoulders, stopping her from plowing right into my chest. Or at least I thought she was his assistant when she brought me in for my interview, but after the bit of conversation between them I just overheard, it seems that she’s actually his social media manager. And wow, that guy’s an even bigger douchebag than I thought.
I’m no choir boy, but the women I sleep with all know we’re out to party and have a good time. There are no strings or expectations, and the likelihood is that we’ll never see each other again unless chance throws us both into the same party scene again some other time.
Releasing her, I give her a lopsided smile and nod back down the hallway. “He always like that?”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing her tits together under her Mariners T-shirt, giving me a better glimpse of her curves than I got before beneath her slouchy jeans and T-shirt combo. She clearly dresses for comfort more thanfashion, and given she works behind a screen all day, I can’t say I blame her. What would she look like if she were all dressed up to go to a club? Would the messy bun on her head come down to reveal waves or a curtain of straight brown hair? Smoky eyes? Yeah, she could rock a good smoky eye …
“A misogynistic asshole?” Her words bring me out of my daydream of taking her clubbing. “Yeah. Pretty much.” She resettles the worn canvas tote bag on her shoulder, a package of Red Vines peeking out. It makes me grin, remembering the way I surprised her when I first got here for my interview, interrupting her eating one.
I nod toward the candy. “That your drug of choice?”
She glances down into her bag, tucks the package more securely inside and chuckles, nodding. “You could say that. Less dangerous than drinking, and no one fires you for eating Red Vines on the job.” When she moves to scoot around me, I step back and hold the door open for her. “Did you need something?” she throws over her shoulder once she steps outside. “Forget something?”
“Just your phone number, darling,” I try, giving her my most charming smile.
Her brows raise, a smile tugging at her lips. “Does that usually work for you?”
Laughing, I nod. “Yeah, actually. It does.”
“Well, good luck with that,” she shoots back, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as she turns and walks away.
