Page 60 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
Because that would be too easy, that’s why. He doesn’t want to actually spend time with Liam and do the work of parenting, but he wants the ability to claim he’s an involved father with fifty-fifty custody. At the very least, he has to put up a fuss about me trying to “take away his time” so that he can tell everyone he fought for custody, and I’m just a bitch who wants to take all his money and his kid.
I just want us to come to a workable arrangement so Liam knows what to expect and we can both stop getting constantly jerked around. That doesn’t seem like too much to ask to me, but …
Brock sticks his head in my office, interrupting me as I’m rereading the latest email from my attorney outlining our strategy for the mediation, along with a to-do list for me before our meeting next month. I need to gather copies of all ourcommunications so I can show both my good-faith efforts to facilitate Kyle’s parenting time, and also his inability to stick to the schedule that he asked for or even his promises in the moment. My attorney plans to present these to the mediator so she understands exactly what we’re dealing with and can use it as leverage to convince him the judge will be far less understanding than I’ve been.
“Any news?” Brock asks.
Shaking my head a little, I give him a confused look. “Any news about what? Aren’t you the one who monitors the gossip sites so you know what to do stories on? If you want someone to help with that, you should either give that job to your assistant or hire someone else to help out.” He did finally hire someone. She’s young, of course, and pretty, but from her attitude, I think she has a chance to stick around. She’s good at her job and seems to think Brock’s attempts to flirt are a big joke. At least, she laughs in his face, which I think is good for him. And as a special bonus, she keeps him out of my hair more. It’s made the last few weeks working here almost bearable.
Brock rolls his eyes. “About the Emeralds. Or Bouchard. Or any of the other players. Take your pick. I know you went to another game with him and one of the D-men. Boggs, right?”
I blink slowly, then nod. “Yeah. Dozer and Marissa went to a baseball game with Jack and me last week. Marissa’s a big sports fan, too. Football’s always been her favorite, though she’s grown to love hockey almost as much. But she really likes baseball too. She said she grew up watching games with her dad, and her brother played football through college.”
Letting his head loll down, Brock snorts and jerks, picking his head up. “Oh, sorry. I fell asleep there after how goddamnboringthat story was. You know I’m counting on you to feed me news about our hometown hockey team. We talked about this.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Did we?” I know exactly what conversation he’s talking about, but I very clearly recall not agreeing to do any such think.
He scowls. “Don’t play cute with me, Mags. You’re too old to pull it off.” Ouch. What an ass. “I know training camp doesn’t start until next month, but once the preseason kicks off, I expect you to start having more info for me. I don’t give a fuck about one guy’s girlfriend’s sports preferences or family history. No one gives a shit about her unless she’s … I dunno … selling feet pics on the internet to make her boyfriend jealous and he hunts down all the guys who buy them so he can punch their teeth out one by one.” He grins. “Nowthatwould be a story. Could you imagine breaking that? That’d get me a meeting with the network execs for sure.” His scowl comes back. “Speaking of which, the other reason I hired you and have kept you on this whole time is because you sold your ability to make my show appealing to them. It’s been two years now, Magpie. Shouldn’t we have had some nibbles?”
I maintain my stoic face, still blinking slowly at him. “I told you I’d worked on a show that started online and was picked up by a network. I didn’t guarantee I could do the same for your show.”
“You claimed that your role as social media manager single handedly got them interested.”
I start shaking my head before he even finishes talking. “I said that my work on social media helped raise the profile enough to get interest from major networks. I never said I was solely responsible.” What I don’t say but really, really want to is that the quality of the show is the biggest factor in that. Sure, I helpedbuild the audience that pushed it to the network’s attention. But if the show sucked, nothing I could’ve done would matter. And with Brock’s show …
“I have a bigger following than the last show you worked on when they got bought.”
I suck in a deep breath, trying to contain my grimace. It’s not that his show sucks. That’s not the problem with it. The problem is that he far too often runs poorly researched gossip pieces that tread far too close to defamation—and sometimes cross directly into it. I don’t blame networks for staying far away.
Instead of saying that, I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do Brock. I have no control over what network execs find worth purchasing. All I can do is boost the content that you create. I’ve more than doubled your reach since you hired me. Revenue is up, and you’re getting more paid partnerships than before I joined your team. Most people would be thrilled with that.”
Still standing in the doorway, he crosses his arms and grumbles something I can’t quite make out.
“Think of it this way,” I add, turning back to my screen. “If you were bought by a network, you’d have to do what they say and follow their rules. This way, you get to keep full creative control. Don’t you enjoy that aspect of running your own show?”
“I guess,” he mumbles, still grumpy but slightly mollified.
“Good. If I hear anything I think you might find interesting, I’ll be sure to let you know.” That’s a lie, of course. I’ve never fed him stories the whole time I’ve worked here, and I don’t plan to start now. That’s not my job at all.
“Good,” he grunts. “That’s good. Because if you don’t start bringing me stories once preseason starts, I might have to seriously reconsider your position here. You made promises when I hired you, and they haven’t materialized. So I gotta get something outta this deal, or …” He trails off, stepping back out my door and walking down the hall.
“Hang on,” I call after him, halfway rising out of my chair. But if he hears me, he doesn’t stop, and I know Brock well enough to know that pushing this conversation won’t get me anywhere good.
That little fucker.
God, I hate him. I can’t believe he’s acting like I haven’t done my job, when I’vemorethan done my job. I even filled in for his assistant for the last quarter before he found Janie.
If I could quit right now, I would. Then he can see how many networks are interested in him …
The one thing I definitely won’t do is feed him gossip about Jack or his team. Which means I have about a month to figure out what to do instead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jack
Maggie dismounts her horse,grinning widely and running over to me as the guide takes the horse to his much deserved rest. We went on a sunset horseback ride and picnic tonight. I made the reservations a few weeks ago when we saw an ad for it and Maggie said, “Oh, that would be so much fun.” Apparently she’d forgotten about it, or at least not thought enough of it to remember, so when I surprised her with the plan for tonight, she was shocked and delighted.
I catch her in my arms, spinning her around before setting her back on her feet with a kiss. “Thank you so much,” she says quietly. “This was so fun.”
