Page 14 of Miami Ice

“Let’s start over, and let’s be serious this time.” Sofia turns to look at me. “Georgie, we need your help.”

I look at Beckham, who avoids my gaze. Instead, his attention remains transfixed on the closed menu in front of him.

“We need to change the optics around Beckham’s situation,” Sofia says, now sounding like a social media strategist. “I’mgoing to trust you with the truth. He wore out his welcome in Denver. The partying. The nearly missing buses and flights. Late for practice. Beckham always got by on his talent, but in this case, it wasn’t enough. Denver traded him to Miami, and itshouldbe a wake-up call.”

“I’m right here,” Beckham says, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a freaking toddler. I messed up. I know I messed up, and if I could do it over, I would. I know I have to change.” Those expressive eyes flash with determination.

And I believe him.

He turns to face me. “Listen, Georgie, I have to change my image. Iknowthat. As annoying as my sister is, I trust Sofia. She says hard launching with a girlfriend”—he pauses and gives her a side-eye before continuing—“is one way to clean up my reputation. To show myself committed to someone and not be seen at a nightclub but going out for coffee with a date. You know, showing myself to be settled. Serious. Mature. At least for a month. Kind of like a reset. After I show this new side of myself, and we break up, I’ll just lie low. I’m not going to repeat the past. Iwon’t. But this is the one part of the solution that I need your help with. And Sofia says you’re perfect for the part.”

I stare back at him, all kinds of thoughts rushing through my head. I can see how a young man with his looks, income, and fame could get swept up into a wild lifestyle. I imagine Beckham thought he was invincible, too.

But sitting across the table from me isn’t an invincible man.

Rather, I see one who is humbled by the trade that abruptly shipped him off to Miami.

“How I see it,” Sofia says, “is you are not the woman anyone expects to see Beckham with. I know we don’t know you, but you have several things that immediately tick boxes for me. You run your own business. You’re a woman who is building herown future. You’re an artist. Creative. But it was the way you lit up when you spoke about Pinkmas that got me. Your love of Christmas, your joy in the season, your enthusiasm—well, I just knew you were the answer. Beckham being with you, doing couple-y Christmas things, will go a long way in showing how he’s changed. You can go on some romantic Christmas dates with him that we’ll post to his social media. Then you guys can stage some stuff at home and post that, too. All very doable.”

The doors open again, and our server returns with drinks. She places them down in front of us, and after we thank her, she says she’ll return in a moment to take our order.

As soon as she leaves, Sofia continues. “And you know you’ll be paid handsomely for your time. As well as get Beckham to promote your business.”

Oh yes, I do,I think. A check that will be a lifeline for Georgie’s Jars, and PR that I could never in my life afford to buy if Beckham promotes me.

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “What’s Pinkmas?”

I furrow my brow. That’s his question? Not if I’ll do this, but “What’s Pinkmas?”

“Pink Christmas,” I say simply.

“What doesthatmean? Christmas isn’t pink,” Beckham says decisively.

“Christmas can be whatever you want it to be,” I insist. “You can celebrate it in a variety of themes and colors. That’s what makes it magical. I like for my decor to be pink. Glittery. Sparkles.”

“Oh my Christ,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s all a marketing ploy to sell more decor shit.”

He looks so grumpy about the idea of a pink Christmas that I want to burst out laughing.

But an idea sparks within me.

What if I could not only reset Beckham’s image with the Miami Manatees, but give him the joy of Christmas spirit, too? Wouldn’t that be amazing? That would be a true gift to give him, wouldn’t it?

When will I ever have the opportunity to share my love of Christmas like this?

Never,I think.

“I’ll do it,” I say simply.

Both of them stare at me in surprise. I don’t think either of them expected me to go along with this crazy idea so easily.

“You’re sure?” Sofia asks, almost as if she can’t believe I agreed to this bizarre offer.

“I’m sure.”

“Thank you,” she says, her face practically lighting up in relief. “This is going to change everything for Beckham, I just know it. I’ll get all your information, and I’ll work out a schedule going through New Year’s Eve. Days and nights where you can be seen in public. Nights you can go to his games. I’ll also come up with a schedule of when to post on your respective social media accounts and give you ideas for content. I’ll also work out a payment schedule for you. Oh, I also have a non-disclosure form for you to sign.”

She reaches into her tote bag and presents me with a document. “Read over this and sign it, please. You can scan it and email it back to me tomorrow.”

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