Page 2 of Game On

Hated that he’d been trained to expect a scathing remark or dressing-down. Whenever Mark asked for a moment of his time, a little voice in his ear convinced him he was about to get lit into, even when he knew he’d done nothing wrong.

But then, growing up with parents who were never satisfied, no matter how hard you tried, would do that to a person.

“Let’s talk about this B in math, Dorian. Do we need to get you a tutor?”

“An eighty-seven, Dorian? If you’d apply yourself like your brother, you could’ve aced this essay.”

“Pink, Dorian? I know you have T-shirts in other colours.”

“Why am I getting a phone call from your principal, Dorian?”

“Your sister knew what she wanted to study in university when she was nine. Why haven’t you figured it out yet, Dorian?”

But he hadn’t fucked up, not this time. He knew that much at least. So he paused the video and followed Mark to his office.

Mark was a young guy, at most a decade older than Dorian’s twenty-nine, and he’d been head of media relations for several years. Dorian had once heard a rumour that Google had tried to poach him, but not only was Mark a born and bred Vancouver boy, he was a die-hard Vancouver hockey fan too.

Hell, his wife had been on Team Canada when they’d won gold in the 2014 Olympics.

“What’s up?” Dorian asked once they were both seated.

“I was reading your email, which, sidebar... why are you sending me emails at eleven thirty at night?”

Dorian shrugged. “That’s when I had the idea.”

“Your email couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“I was up anyway. Besides, it’s not like you have to check your emails at that hour.”

“That’s not the point.” Mark jerked a finger in his direction. “The point is, stop sending me emails outside of office hours when you should be logged off and relaxing.”

What was relaxing, even? “You and I both know we don’t have regular office hours.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dorian did know. Some days, he was a regular nine-to-fiver. On practice and game days, he was expected at the arena to snap photos and videos for social media. He, Mark, and Stink Eye Stanley—as well as six interns—traded off practices and games, which worked for Dorian because it meant he didn’t have to go with the team every time they travelled.

He wasn’t big on travelling.

And there were some days, like today, where he covered practice before putting in a few hours at the office, then went home in the early afternoon.

“Anyway.” Mark turned his laptop sideways on his desk so they could both see Dorian’s email. “I liked your idea. A short introductory video for each of the Orcas players would certainly get the public hyped about AHL games.”

“That was my thought too.” Dorian leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Everyone and their pet lizard knows our NHL players in this province. It’s the NHL. The glamorous big leagues. The AHL has never gotten the same amount of respect or attention, but the way the Orcas have been playing this season, they deserve more of the spotlight.”

And since Dorian had been demoted to the AHL’s social media coordinator, it was technically his job to make them look good on social media.

Not that it was technically a demotion—the Orcas’ social media coordinator had recently quit for a new gig, and Dorian had been asked to replace her until her role could be backfilled. Either way, whether he was the NHL’s social media coordinator or the AHL’s, his job was the same.

And frankly? He kind of liked working with the Orcas better. And not only because his cousin was the head coach. Getting post engagements was much more of a challenge in the AHL world when everyone was busy gawping at the NHL players.

And Dorian did enjoy a challenge.

“I agree,” Mark said. “But this is a huge project. You’ve got to set up interviews, edit them down to two minutes, get them approved, then re-edited depending on feedback, schedule them for upload, and monitor video engagement.”

“Yeah.” Dorian grinned. “I know.”

“I’m here to support you, you know that, but I can’t spare Stanley to assist. I need him on the NHL side of things.”

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