Page 14 of If You Need Me

My head is spinning, and my stomach is in knots.

Shilpa arrives eighteen minutes later with two coffees in hand. She’s dressed for work, her long, dark hair pulled up in an intricate bun, her makeup on point. I, on the other hand, am the conductor of the hot mess express.

She purses her lips. “Real or not real?”

“Not real.”

“What happened yesterday to prompt this post from Dallas?” Shilpa hands me a takeout cup that I gladly accept.

Going into a meeting with the head office uncaffeinated seems like a bad idea.

Dealing with drama is part of my job as director of public relations for the Terror. These boys are fueled by testosterone, and sometimes they think with their dicks instead of their heads. So I handle it. I smooth it out. I help the guys make better career and personal life choices when I can. But I am not the reason for drama. So I’m at a complete loss as to what to do.

If any other player announced something like this on social media before bringing it to me and Shilpa, I would tear them a new one. I’ll probably still tear Dallas a new one. But it’s not just him on the line here; it’s me, too.

I realize Shilpa has asked me a question, and I haven’t answered.

She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hemi, I am here first and foremost as your friend. But this is a direct violation of the team’s policy.”

“I know.” The numbness is wearing off, and in its place is real panic. And fear. And anger at Dallas.

“There are channels we need to go through. We just did this for Hollis and Hammer,” she says gently.

“I know this too.”

“Management will want an explanation. Do you have one?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea what he was thinking, or why he believed it was a good idea to post that. He knows the rules.” I swallow bile. “We’re so screwed.”

“I just don’t understandwhyhe did it.” Shilpa blows out a breath. “Have you spoken to him this morning?”

“No. You’re the only person I called.”

“He’s not an inherently malicious person, so understanding why could be helpful,” Shilpa says. I put my phone on speaker and dial his number, but it goes to voicemail. “Dallas, it’s Hemi. You need to call me as soon as you get this.”

Shilpa raises a finger. “Hi, Dallas. It’s Shilpa. Speaking as the team lawyer, check your email. And please, whatever you do, do not delete that social media post. Call me or Hemi when you get this message. Call only.”

“What she said.” I hang up. “What am I going to do, Shilps? He’s put me in an impossible position. How bad will I look if we have to put out a public statement saying Dallas was joking?” Just kidding. I know the answer. I can’t go to my high school reunion if that happens. I rub my temples. The humiliation would be too much.

The buzzer sounds, signaling someone at the door. I set my coffee on the side table and hop off the couch, rushing to answer. A minute later a flower delivery guy hands me an ostentatiously large bouquet of peach-colored roses. I tip him and set it on the counter.

I pluck the card from the bouquet and flip it over.

Shilpa reads over my shoulder.

Wills,

I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

XO Dallas

“I don’t even know what to say about this.”And since when did he shift from Willy to Wills?

“Logically, you have two options. One, you tell the head office this picture was taken out of context and that you and Dallas are not involved, and he did this without your knowledge or consent.”

“And he gets fined then traded.”

Shilpa nods. “They won’t give him a pass. Not when he didn’t have your permission to do this.”

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