Page 32 of Not A Chance

Currently, I was in a new astral plane of anger. I wasn’t sure how much restraint I had if this reporter didn’t back down.

Howdareanyone even think to ask Theo these questions? In preparation for their interviews, I’d skimmed through the majority of the previous articles written about the guys, having had no experience with what should or shouldn’t go into a hockey interview.

Theo never discussed his family or his personal life with the media.

Did this reporter think because they were the largest, most prestigious sports magazine in the country that he would be able to invade Theo’s privacy under the guise of documenting his “legacy”? Oh no.Think the fuck again, Grant Douglas.

The man himself sauntered back into the room, ready to resumehis line of questions. He didn’t realize that the entire fabric of time and space had rearranged itself during his short phone call.

As Grant sat down before me, waking his tablet screen, he looked over at me. “Any concerns?” His tone was mild.

The out-of-line questions highlighted in black, I clicked Send to return his list to him.

“Yes. The last three. Out of the question. Those are not happening.” My tone left no room for argument.

Grant’s head jerked back with such force at the venom in my tone that he might need a visit to his chiropractor after our time together.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ah, the ever-present Canadian politeness. He used it now to cover what I was sure was his displeasure at a low-ranking communications employee daring to question his freedom as a journalist.

I was learning the nuances of Canadian speech now. His tone suggested he wasn’t sorry at all. There was a difference between real and fake “sorrys” in this country.

“Just what I said. Theo Yao’s personal life and family are off-limits. The same things you asked Andrews and Campbell are fine, but not the last section.” I watched him carefully to see which direction he wanted to take this conversation: defense or offense.

“I hardly think asking some simple questions about how his mother influenced his hockey career is problematic at this point. It’s been…” he said as he glanced down at his screen to scroll through his notes.

“Fourteen years.” I didn’t blink. If he wanted the exact days and hours, I could give him those too. Alice still made up a whole chamber of my heart, and she hadn’t even been my mom. I’d just been lucky enough to be loved by her as Emery’s best friend.

“Er, right. Nearly a decade and a half. Sure, I can see why it wasavoided at the time. Mr. Yao was just some eighteen-year-old kid. But he’s nearing the end of his career—don’t you think it makes sense for him to share his thoughts with the fans? The Tempests only bought out the final year of his contract. They could extend, of course, but…”

“I’ll stop you there.” I’d had enough. There was no justification in existence that would change my mind, no matter what my boss or anyone else at head office said. While this was my task, Theo wouldn’t be answering these questions.

“Let me put it to you this way, Grant. Your career would be safer and better off printing the completely false narrative of Ryan Campbell and I in a romantic relationship than asking Theo Yao a single question outside of his opinions on how he’s liking the new team, what skills he’s perfecting this year, or their chances at the Cup. You need to reference hislegacy? Look up how many times he’s won the Vezina Trophy or how much money he’s raised for charity. That should cover it.”

Unable to sit in this room a minute longer, I stood. As I passed by Grant, still in his chair, I looked down to give him one more warning, making sure my tone left no doubt of my intentions should he upset Theo in any way.

“Anything else goes on in the next forty-five minutes and I will personally bring you a legal shitstorm of such magnitude you’d do best to tender your resignation and file for bankruptcy upon leaving this room. And that’s before I mention it to the GM and owner.”

Crossing paths with Campbell, who wasn’t supposed to be done with his interview for another several minutes, had me jolting to a stop.

I’d planned to arrive ten minutes early for my turn, keen to give Indie a break from wrangling my teammate. Campbell seemed to thrive on making trouble. Growing up, Indie could get overwhelmed when she wasn’t in control of a situation. Dealing with Campbell’s unpredictable nature would be like inviting squirrels high on cocaine into your home.

As we walked from opposite directions along the empty hallway in the Tempests arena, the building quiet on a non-game day, Campbell appeared too pleased with himself. From our locker room and game travel interactions over the past month, I knew his expression meant he’d created chaos for someone.

Campbell held up his fist for a greeting once we were within arm’s length of each other. I tapped my knuckles against his in a distracted hello, more concerned with whatever mayhem he’d been causing.

“Hey. Headed to your interview, Yao?” He couldn’t keep the humor out of his tone.

“What did you do?” I growled, finding it impossible to keep my normal cool. I didn’t have it in me to fake social graces at the moment. The idea that he’d made Indie’s job harder than necessary pressed all my protective buttons.

“Moi? How could you think that?” He couldn’t even pretend to be offended. “Don’t worry, Yao. I was just having a little fun at the reporter’s expense, though it seemed like it was going to take him some time to figure out the joke. He’ll get there eventually, or Layne will set him straight.”

“You know she’s new at her job. Why’d you have to make it harder for her? Did you even think of that?” I asked, the tension in my shoulders building until they felt like they could snap.

To his credit, an expression of regret passed over Campbell’s face. Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he looked down at the floor before meeting my eyes again, his natural charm having no effect on me. “Shit, Yao. Way to make a guy feel bad. It was just a joke. I didn’t mean any harm. Gotta make this media shit pass by somehow, eh? Haven’t they ever thought of asking a question that hasn’t been asked a thousand times before?”

“Yeah, I get it. Nobody enjoys the media, but it’s part of our contracts. So we need to just suck it up. What it doesn’t mean is being a pain in the ass to the people working on our behalf.” My tone left no room for argument.

“Okay,Dad, I get the point. No more scolding necessary.” He threw his hands up in surrender.

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