Page 12 of Hard Hitter
“I feel so much better now.” She put her thumbs at the base of Becca’s skull and rubbed. This was a brand-new friendship. Ari had always liked Becca and her sidekick, Georgia, the publicist. But Ari’s ex had resented all the traveling that Ari did for the team, and when she was home in Brooklyn he got pissy if she went out without him.
His attitude had kept her away from developing normal friendships with the girls at work, and she hadn’t even realized it until after she’d broken things off with him.
During Ari’s yoga training, a wise yogi had told her that pain always brought new awarenesses. He said pain brought gifts with it. Or, as her Italian grandmother would have put it—when God slams a door, he opens a window. Becoming friends with Becca and Georgia was that window.
“Marry me,” Becca breathed as Ari rubbed her shoulders.
“I would, but I’ve sworn off relationships. Today was a good reminder of why.”
Becca spun around, cutting off her massage. “Oh, no! What happened? Did he pound on your door again?”
“No, but his stuff is still in my basement storage room, and...”
This conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Nate Kattenberger, the team’s owner. He walked in wearing his trademark hoodie and dark wash jeans. Ari had heard that the old guard of the hockey league hated the young billionaire’s personal dress code, and its governors occasionally made snide comments about his “athletic shoes” in the press.
Becca had let it slip that Kattenberger’s Tom Ford sneakers ran six hundred bucks, though. The man liked expensive clothes, but he did not like to conform to a bunch of league rules. And Ari loved him for it.
“Evening, ladies,” Nate said with a wave. He walked right over to the front of the box and looked down, surveying his dominion.
A young woman breezed in after him. Lauren was Nate’s Manhattan assistant, not to be confused with Becca, his Brooklyn assistant. The contrast between the two women was more than a little amusing. Lauren wore a designer suit in an expensive shade of pink, stockings and high heels. Her hair was swept into a glamorous up-do that must have taken forty-five minutes to accomplish. And at seven thirtyP.M., it still looked perfect.
Becca wore Dr. Martens, purple tights, and a leather dress. Her hair was purple and her eyebrow and nose were proudly pierced.
The biggest difference, though, was in facial expression. Becca raised a hand to give the other woman a friendly wave. “Hi, Lauren! Want to have a glass of wine with us?”
The only acknowledgment that Becca had spoken was a sidelong glance flicked in their direction. As if she hadn’t heard at all, Lauren went over to the drinks table herself and poured her boss a Diet Coke over three ice cubes. She perched a wedge of lime on the rim, snapped a cocktail napkin into her hand, and scurried over to him to present it as if to royalty.
“I’m always nice,” Becca whispered under her breath, “but I’m really not sure why.”
“Because it feels better to be nice,” Ari whispered. “And you’re a beautiful person.”
Becca shot her a grateful glance. “She makes ugly look pretty good.”
It was true. Queen Lauren (as they sometimes referred to her) was beautiful. But Ari wasn’t even a little jealous of that silky pale hair or those blue eyes. Lauren exuded stress and unhappiness. A decade of yoga might not even make a dent in Queen Lauren’s steel facade.
“Rebecca,” Nate called. “Do you happen to have tonight’s ticket sales?”
“But of course!” she chirped. “Do you really think I’d stand here and slurp wine if I hadn’t brought them with me?” She balanced her glass in one hand and dug through her briefcase with the other. “It’s here somewhere. Ah.” When she finally tugged a file out of her bag, Nate took the folder with a smile. “Anything shocking in here? Should I hit the whiskey early?”
“It’s always cocktail hour somewhere, boss. But the numbers looked good to me.”
Nate flipped the cover open and scanned the summary page while Lauren glared over his shoulder at Becca. “These are good numbers. And I like the time series graph.”
“Thanks! I got sick of flipping backward to see the prior weeks’ numbers.”
When he was through, Nate handed the folder to Lauren for safekeeping. Lauren stashed it in a leather satchel while simultaneously attempting to incinerate Becca with her eyes.
“Thank you,” Nate said in Lauren’s general direction. “That’s all for today, I suppose.”
Lauren said good night to her boss and buttoned up her impeccable jacket.
“Aren’t you staying for the game?” Becca asked.
“I hate hockey,” Lauren declared. Then she walked out, her heels clicking importantly across the walnut floorboards.
Ari exchanged a loaded glance with Becca. Her friend’seyebrows lifted as if to ask,can you believe Nate’s assistant would say that right before a game?Maybe the girl didn’t understand how superstitious men could be about their sports.
The door opened again, admitting Georgia Worthington and the brand new publicist, Tom. This was his first week on the job.
