Page 7 of Offside Secrets
The door creaks open, and in shuffles Dennis, one of our quieter board members. He’s the human equivalent of a beigesweater—inoffensive, slightly itchy, and somehow always there. He seems to be my eyes and ears when I need them most. Honestly, I don’t mind him, he’s just so very…Dennis.
“Uh, Sutton?” he says, stepping inside. “I just wanted to clarify something.”
I arch a brow. “If you’re here to talk poster fonts, I swear?—”
“No, no.” He wrings his hands, looking everywhere but at me. “It’s the gala. About, um, what they were saying about bringing someone.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but Harold was serious. He’s been muttering for a few weeks now that it would look so much better, for the team, if you were in a stable relationship.”
“Muttering for weeks? Stable relationship?” I repeat, deadpan. “I’m not sure which bag to unpack first, Dennis.” I open a drawer, grab my bag of cookies, and toss them on my desk, digging into the bag immediately. “Tell me, where should we start? You’re here saying this, Harold told you this, or that members of the board think a woman needs a relationship to look stable?”
As I shove a cookie in my mouth to demolish it, I realize I’m probably my own worst enemy right now. Tip: if someone walks into your office and says these things to you, don’t lean into the whole “unstable” side of things.
He winces. “I know, I know. I didn’t want to tell you, but I couldn’tnottell you.”
“So let me get this straight,” I manage with my mouth full, as I kick off my heels and spin in my chair. If a girl’s gotta be unstable, I’m gonna roll out my flag for it. “A room full of men who think promotional posters are a life-or-death decision have decided my dating life is now their problem?”
“To be fair, Marlene was there, too,” Dennis starts, butstops when I give him the look. He, in return, gives a helpless little shrug. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I know, you’re just telling me.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Thank you for that. But, trust me, Dennis. If I bring someone, it won’t be because of optics. It’ll be because they’re hot enough to make Victor, and the board, choke on all the canapés.”
“Right. Well.” His ears turn the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen. This man would give a stoplight a run for its money. “Good luck with that.”
And then he scurries out, leaving me with the knowledge that, apparently, my plus-one is now to be the hottest ticket in town.
I wait until Dennis is down the hall before yanking my phone out of my bag. If anyone will understand the absurdity of this, it’s Elle.
You will not believe what I was just told.
Did they finally decide on a new team motto for the posters? “In it to win it”?
Worse. Apparently, I need a DATE for the donor gala. Because…optics.
Optics? What are you, a telescope?
No, just a single woman in a male-dominated industry. Same thing, apparently.
Let me guess. Harold?
Harold. And then beige-sweater Dennis came in after, all “I don’t want to be the one to tell you…” Like he was warning me about termites.
Oh, Sutton. Welcome to my life. Remember when one of the scouts asked me if my “husband let me” take this job?
Still want to key his car.
I handled it.
Of course you did. Probably with your death stare.
It’s a gift. But back to you—what are you going to do?
Honestly? Show up alone. Or hire a boyfriend who looks like he walked off a cologne ad.
Tempting. But please pick someone with good shoulders. If you’re going to make a point, make him hot.
I snort-laugh, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty office. Leave it to Elle to boil down a feminist manifesto into “get a man with nice shoulders.”
