Page 7 of The Fake Play

“A seafood dinner for the aquarium and an animal rights protest aren’t exactly a hindrance to what I need you to do. Besides, it’s not like you’d let those things happen again, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Perfect. I keep an office at the arena. You’ll work out of the home office at Luke’s place?—”

“I thought the reporters said his name was Lucian.”

She shrugs as she taps on her phone. “He usually goes by Luke. I just emailed you my file on him. Look it over before you officially accept the job in case there’s something you see that you can’t work with.”

I click on my email on my phone, planning on scanning over it quickly and telling her I’ll take the job right here, right now. But as his picture appears on the screen, my breath catches inmy throat. The world stops spinning, and it’s all I can do not to gasp for breath.

What did I do to deserve this?

I glance up at Michael for a moment to see if this is some kind of joke. If it is, he’s not in on it. There’s nothing but earnest hope that he’s just found a job for his screw-up little sister.

I look back down at the picture, maintaining a forced smile. It’s a hell of a challenge because the man I’d come to think of as Beer Boy is now staring back at me. I poured beer onto the head of the man who might be controlling my future employment. He’d hate working with me almost as much as I’d hate working with him, I’m sure of it.

But I need this job. I can make nice.

I think.

There’s got to be more to him than just a handsome smile. Luke has a face made for billboards—high cheek bones, a chiseled jawline, killer smile. He’s one of the beefier players on the team, built more like a football player with his broad shoulders and tall frame. His dark brown hair was tied into a man bun for the player photo and featured a streak of the team’s signature dark blue running through it. He has the kind of brown eyes that sparkle, puppy dog eyes that have likely gotten him out of a lot of trouble. The kind of eyes I used to be a sucker for.

Not anymore.

“Looks good. I’m in.”

“Excellent. Come to the arena tomorrow, and I’ll make the introductions so you can get a feel for what he does and what the team is like.”

After a few moments, Whitney says her goodbyes and heads out, leaving me alone with Michael.

“You sure you’ve got this?” he asks. “You seemed a little shaken after glancing at his file.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got this.” With any luck, I wasn’t lying. But obviously, my luck has been less than good lately.

Beer Boy is my assignment. How could this get any worse?

My brother eyes me like he doesn’t believe me. “You were nervous about meeting Whitney, eh?”

I huff a laugh, thankful he mistook my uneasiness. The truth is, my heart hadn’t stopped pounding since I realized how bad this could be. But I didn’t let it show. Instead, I nodded. “Yes. Thank you again for the intro. I never would have gotten this without you.”

“And I would never have achieved any of this without you,” he replies, gesturing to his office.

The memories come flooding back but I stuff them down. No sense in reliving the past. “How is?—”

“As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Keke, I feel I need to remind you thatthis is the last time I can do this for you. The aquarium was bad enough—I’m on the board there. But the protest?” Michael takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It took a long time to get those folks to return. The press thought it was hilarious that my public relations team were the ones who instigated?—”

“Ididn’t instigate anything!”

He holds up a hand. “I know, I know. But that’s the narrative the press pushed. It made good headlines.”

Humiliation always does. “I remember,” I mumble.

“Whitney is in my social circle. We play poker. We’re friends, and if I’m lucky, one day, it’ll be more. So you cannot, under any circumstances, embarrass me.”

Fantastic. No pressure. Why can’t I breathe in here? I clear my throat to force a breath inward.

“I won’t let you down, Michael.”

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