Page 46 of Thrown for a Loop
“By tomorrow,” his father says, as if this were some kind of real negotiation.
“Fine. Later.” He ends the call and looks up to see Zoe watching him from her perch on the chair, worry in her eyes.
“Let’s have some guacamole,” he says. “It’s time for snacks.”
Then he finds his smile and pastes it back on again. He never wants Zoe to know the truth—that some days it’s hard fucking work being this laid-back and happy.
Zoe reaches for the cooler with a contented sigh, and he feels the tension drain out of his body again.
He sits down beside her and restarts the song. Zoe passes him the chips, and he takes one. “Cheers,” he says, tapping his chip against hers.
She smiles, and everything is right with the world.
Chapter 17
Present Day
Steve Sailor doesn’t mess around. Within hours, he’s invited a string of journalists to sit in on a coaching session for the following Tuesday—merely four days after our war room meeting. Meanwhile, I keep replaying my curbside conversation with Chase in my mind and cringing.
I was desperate, and somehow I made it about me. And now I have a vulnerability hangover.
What must he be thinking?
I’m still wondering on Tuesday morning as I stand in the staff bathroom while I hastily apply lipstick.For the photographs, I tell myself.Not because I care how I look in front of Chase.
The door flies open and Darcy bops in. “Ooh! Makeup. Nice color.”
“Is it too much?”
“No way! You look smashing.”
I glance down at my matching red-and-blue outfit. “Nobody looks smashing in Legends workout gear.”
“You absolutely do,” she argues. “And with your hair blown smooth? You look like Sporty Barbie. The PR guy is going to pee himself with excitement over these photographs.”
“He’d better,” I grumble.
“You’re just nervous,” Darcy says gently. “But this will be over in an hour.”
“That’s the problem. I have one hour to make myself look competent, make Chase look friendly, and also fix his skating. I did this to myself.”
She smiles. “Sailor is ready for you. And he wanted me to give you this.”
It’s a cute little silver whistle on a Legends lanyard. “I’m not using that. Whistles are for dogs.”
“Just wear it, Sporty Barbie. It will make his shallow little heart happy.”
Having no choice, I drop it over my head.
“Now get out there already,” she says. “Chase already greeted the journalists.”
“Okay,” I say with one last glance in the mirror. The only thing more stressful than a coaching session with Chase is a coaching session with Chase plus ten spectators.
Wait, make that twenty.As I glide out onto the ice, I’m startled by the crowd of people lining one wall of the big practice rink, most of them men. The photographers’ cameras have cartoonishly long lenses on them, too, as if they’re here to photograph the Kentucky Derby.
Good grief. A coaching session with me is not interesting enough for all that.
“Zoe!” Steve Sailor waves me over to the side. “Come introduce yourself. They already got to shake Chase’s hand.”
