Page 6 of The Fake Play

“I can only hope. This one is particularly difficult. Insufferably so, in several aspects.”

“What seems to be the trouble?”

Whitney gives me a tight-lipped smile. “The usual. Partying at all hours. Women, drinking. Your typical celebrity destroying themselves type stuff. He's a good-time guy who doesn't realize that he needs to slow it down. If anything, he's only turned it up. My team is doing everything they can, trying to get him to cool it, but he’s not listening to any of us. It's my hope that some new blood will do the trick. Someone he doesn't know and that the team doesn't know, so there's no chance of camaraderie getting in the way. Assuming the new hire isn’t a partier themselves.” Her tight-lipped smile turns expectant.

Good thing I’m not a partier anymore. “I’m the girl who brings a book to bars. I'm usually in bed by eight so I can be up before dawn for my morning workout. I am a yogurt and salad girl, despite my brother’s best efforts to convert me to chicken wings and fries.”

Michael chuckles. “That’s true. I’ll get you to eat my wings and fries eventually, though.”

I smile at her. “I have no trouble going against the grain, Ms. Dobson. It’s kind of my thing.”These days,anyway.

“That all sounds well and good, but there is one more requirement of this job and I'm not sure if you're prepared for it. The last girl wasn’t.”

“What's that?”

“The position requires you tolive with him.”

I arch a brow. “In what capacity, exactly?”

“Nothing improper . You’d essentially be like his nanny.”

“You said he’s thirty years old.”

“Thirty years old and wild and incorrigible. He needs someone to stop him from staying out all night boozing it up, from taking random girls home, from overdoing it all of the time.”

“Is it affecting his performance?” I ask.

Whitney shifts in her seat. “Worse. It’s affecting the team. He’s brilliant on the ice—truly gifted—but the team has banked on his image for the past few seasons and people like him. He’s got all-American good looks and charm thanks to his upbringing, and they’ve been using him as their poster child on their billboards. He’s the one they send out to do interviews most of the time.”

“Then how is his bad boy image affecting the team? He sounds perfect.”

She pulls out her phone, bringing up the local news on YouTube. “…and Atlanta Fire’s Lucian Smith is earning that smoking hot reputation.” The broadcast switches to footage of a sportscar parked in front of the hockey arena on fire. “Reportedly, the fire was started by his girlfriend. No word on the reason just yet, but I think we can take a guess. Phil?”

A second reporter comes on screen. “When you’re Lucian Smith, women go crazy for you. It was bound to happen. It’s a shame that poor Lamborghini took the hit, though.”

“Hell hath no fury, am I right?” the second reporter responds.

Whitney shuts it off. “That’s how it’s affecting the team. He has to stop screwing every skirt he sees, or the Atlanta Fire willcontinue to be a joke. It reflects badly on the team and on me, and I won’t have that.”

“If you give me the chance, I can get him back in line.”

“You’ve done this kind of thing before?”

“I have. Not at this level but getting a guy to quit his bad habits is something I am quite familiar with.”

Michael clears his throat. “I’ve seen her do it, Whit. That’s why I wanted to bring her in, to have you speak to her.”

Whitney taps a perfectly manicured nail on the arm of her chair. “This is a critical mission, Keke. No room for error.”

“Ms. Dobson, I am the woman for the job.”

“Enough with the Ms. Dobson shit. I’m not formal like that when you’re working for me.” She smiles and holds out her hand.

I reach for it. “You mean I’ve got the job?”

“It’s yours. It was before you even walked in—I checked you out after Michael mentioned you at our last game.”

Which meant she knew about my screw-ups. “And you still want me?”

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