Page 6 of Faking the Face Off

ANNA

Istep inside the elevator, waiting for the doors to slide shut and shake my head back and forth, in shock. Look, I’m not daft but I’m also not a proud woman; I can admit that for some reason today, of all days, I looked at Ollie and something inside me hiccuped. Less hiccup, and more glitch, really. Yes, I looked at Ollie and if there was ever a glitch in my matrix, well it happened today.

He seems different. Not different, like it’s off-putting but different in a makeover kind of way…I think?

Even as the words echo in my head, Iknowit’s more than that. It’s not like I was looking to see the flex of his thighs as he pushed off on the ice, but rather that his thighs obviously wanted me to seethembecause––wow.

Just…wow.

I’ve noticed the beefing up. Of course I have, he’s playing hockey. He’s been at it for a while now, and he’s going to get more muscles and be all HOT and stuff. But…when did my sweet old friend Ollie Decker glow up?

The elevator doors finally close, and once they do, I hit the button with PH labeled on it at the top of the number console. Good. I need a few minutes to clear my head of hot thighs andrippling biceps before I get to my floor. This button will deliver me straight into the reception area of the Penthouse, otherwise known as the home of the Ivory Tower.

The suites and executive offices for the Renegades are located on the top floor of the building that’s directly attached to the arena. It’s a sleek, modern structure with glass walls overlooking the ice, and all of the hustle and bustle below. The building’s got a polished, corporate vibe that makes you feel like everyone inside it is important, even if they aren’t.

The floor is split into two wings. On one side, you’ve got the General Manager’s office—glass walls, of course—along with shared offices for the assistant coaches. There’s a huge lobby in the middle, designed for the team and anyone who might need to hang around before or after meetings. It’s all white marble, leather furniture, and high ceilings, making the whole space feel impressive and intimidating at the same time. It’s fun with a relaxed feel, and during regular working hours it hums with activity and employees. I like this side.

Then there’s the other wing, where the owners’ offices are located. It’s a little more private, a little more exclusive, and a lot more stuffy. They’ve got a couple of hot desks in there, too, for anyone who’s working remotely or needs a temporary office—like their contracted PR team, the lawyers, or accountants. It’s all very flexible, depending on who needs to use it at any given moment. Honestly, the whole thing screams power—probably more than it should, considering we’re just a hockey team, but it’s how the owners like it.

Today, when I exit the elevator, I go right. That’s the side where the owners’ offices are and it’s not my favorite side. Ivory Tower and all that jazz.

The hallway is darker than usual today. The lights are off, which would be normal since no one is here this late, at least not on this side. The fact that anyone is still around this part ofthe office fully surprises me. I’d think about it more, because I love to overthink things, except my dad is also fighting for center stage in my thoughts at this very second.

Even in the midst of the banter with the guys, all I could think about was my dad and how upset he is. It would have been hard for him to be as vulnerable as he was, but I’m glad he did it.

“Now, I need to help him find a way out,” I sigh quietly to myself, staying the course with the owners’ office drawing nearer. In fact, once I’m less than a few feet away I start to hear the low rumble of voices talking in the room beyond.

“It’s about brand deals, Jimmy,” a sharp female voice says. “If we get more deals for these guys, then the Renegades are getting more exposure. They have more of a presence, which is good for the teamandfor ticket sales.”

“But will it get us more sponsors?” I recognize the voice of James “Jimmy” Mahoney, the current co-owner of the Renegades. The Mahoney family has been around River City for as long as I can remember; I guess they would be what you call an institution here.

The Mahoneys have always been in the business of building legacies. They own half a block downtown, a mix of restaurants, bars, and the kind of high-end condos that make people whisper about their wealth. I swear I think half the town works for one of them or their businesses.

I stop just outside of the executive suite…not so much to eavesdrop, even though this is a great place to do it, but so I can choose a time to enter when it feels more nonchalant and not like I’m interrupting.

Okay, it’s so I can eavesdrop. But just a little bit.

“Why are you asking about that, Jimmy?” A voice I know, and know well, pipes up. “We’ve got enough coming in from sponsors now. Do we need more?”

Sutton Mahoney is Jimmy’s younger, and in my opinion, much smarter, wiser, and kinder sister. When their father, James Mahoney Senior, retired and stepped away from his duties last year, these two were assigned co-ownership of the team, along with another brother, Gavin. Gavin is the silent partner for now. Where Jimmy likes to act like he’s a big guy and be the man about River City, Gavin is happiest volunteering his time helping build schools in remote areas of the world. Sutton, in my opinion, is the peacemaker. She balances the team and knows it best. But that’s just my two cents.

And not all hockey teams have hands-on owners. In fact, the Renegades rarely saw Jim Senior…Oh, I take that back—they saw him when it counted. He would show up for all the games, was in the locker room win or lose, and always had a nice word to say about everyone in the arena and on his staff. I’ve not only witnessed it myself, but my Dad and Ben have both waxed poetic about how Jim Senior was the last of the good guys when he retired.

Needless to say, Jimmy isnothis father. He is the apple that not only fell far from the tree, but was kicked down the hill, crossed a highway, and then rolled into the gutter.

“We can always use more money,” he snaps. “We need to always be seen out and about in River City. I want these guys doing charity events, slinging hash if they need to on a commercial, showing up for a ribbon cutting?—”

“Winning games, but also making it to practice, taking care of themselves, physically and mentally,” the voice of reason interrupts. Sutton is such a straight shooter and I dig it. “You need to stop trying to make some kind of statement about yourself as a co-owner, Jimmy, and just let these guys do what they do best. We hired them to play hockey.”

Sensing a lull in the conversation, I take my chances and step inside the doorway. Surveying the room, I find Jimmy, Sutton,and the mystery guest, who is their publicist, Lara Nearers. Coach and I like to call her Smoke and Mirrors. She’s always looking for a way to spin something or do a pivot in the press, and honestly, it’s exhausting.

“I think what Jimmy’s saying,” Lara says, “is that if we can get these guys doing more promotional work, we can also help line their pockets, too.”

“These guys are not actors or models.” Sutton stares at the ground, shaking her head. “I know it sounds stupid, but they’re special, they know how to do something on the ice that none of us in the room can. Why do we want or need to push them to do more, parading them out and making them be on display? Not everyone is made to do promos.”

My dad, Coach, and even the guys on the team have been talking about Sutton and their respect for her on a daily basis since she stepped up. She’s the fierce one, the one sibling who should run the show on her own. Rumor has it Jimmy isn’t capable, but his dad has put him in charge since Gavin is out of the country, so…I guess we’ll see. My vote is that Sutton runs it on her own, but what do I know? I’m just a girl who watchedTed Lassoand developed a heck of a girl crush on Hannah Waddington.

The sound of someone clearing their throat takes me out of my zone. I look across the room to find Sutton staring at me with a quizzical, but amused, expression on her face. I hold up the folder in my hands and wave it.

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