Page 21 of Twisted Shot
“Are you drunk?” Mila asks, flopping sideways on the couch.
“Only emotionally. Jake cooked for me. Pasta carbonara.”
In the background, Mila hears the clink of utensils and Jake’s voice. “Tell her I made pancetta. I need people to respect the pancetta.”
Mila laughs into her glass. “Hey, Jake. Respect noted.”
“What’s up?” Natalie asks.
Mila takes a breath. “I’m working on something. And I need a little recon.”
“Oh?” Natalie’s voice sharpens slightly. “PR recon?”
“The Whalers. They want a pitch. Full service. Marketing, brand positioning, the works. I’m putting together the deck.”
A pause. Then a loud whistle from Jake, because apparently she’s on speaker now. “Damn. Look at you.”
Natalie speaks again, more excited this time. “Wait, this is because of Jesse, isn’t it? Your PR ninja-ing actually worked.”
Mila laughs. “Sort of. There’s still time for him to jump off a balcony or get a face tattoo.”
“Please don’t put that in the risk section,” Jake calls.
“Anyway, I thought Jake might give me the inside scoop on the owner, Jim Pearce. I need to know what makes him tick.”
“Money,” Jake says flatly.
“Anything more specific?” Mila presses, trying not to roll her eyes.
“He likes legacy,” Jake offers. “Old-school branding. Community stuff. That kind of thing.”
“That’s part of the reason he was on board with hiring you, isn’t it?” Natalie asks. “He loves the family reunion angle.”
“Yeah,” Jake says. “He eats that up. Think small-town values in a shiny box. Front-facing charity, multi-generational fans, kids in Whalers jerseys. Don’t lean too hard into influencer culture—he’ll call it fluff.”
Mila types as they speak, ideas already percolating. Whaler Wednesdays. Alumni Night. Junior fan-of-the-game. Community-first campaign.
“Jake,” she says, “I take back every mean thing I ever said about your hair.”
Jake grunts. “You said a lot of mean things. You called me the Pantene Pirate. And Tarzan.”
“Don’t forget Legolas.”
Natalie laughs. “Does this mean you’re going to come back to Hartford?”
“Looks like it,” Mila says, keeping her tone breezy. “The pitch is in person on Thursday. Richard’s tagging along.”
The silence on the line is immediate and weighty.
Natalie’s voice goes dark. “Please no. Tell me you don’t have to work with him.”
“Oh yes, I sure do,” Mila says brightly. “It’s a dazzling two-person nightmare.”
Natalie lets out a sharp breath, and Jake curses. Neither of them is laughing. Mila doesn’t have to explain—Natalie already knows howmuch that wound still stings. The betrayal. The gaslighting. The Ashley-fucking-Gibbons of it all.
“You want me and Jesse to booby-trap the conference room for you?” Jake says. “We could saw halfway through a chair leg. Real subtle.”
“Tempting,” Mila murmurs. “But no. I need this win. If I can land this account, it will be big for me. Even if he tries to take the credit.”
