Page 19 of Not A Chance

Just as I was starting to get into a daily routine at work, I was summoned to my boss’s office on a random game night.

The moment Jermaine gave me a big smile when I arrived in his office two hours before the Saturday night game was due to begin, I knew something was up.

“Indie! Come in and have a seat.”

Apprehension crept up on me as I settled into one of my boss’s extra comfy chairs. I idly wondered if he’d chosen these cloudlike chairs to lull unsuspecting employees into a false sense of securitybefore he fired them.

Was that what was about to happen to me? Jermaine was a positive person, but I doubt even he would fire someone with a smile on his face. So I was probably safe.

“So how has your first month been?” Jermaine’s expression remained pleasant.

Was I here for chitchat? My fingertips embedded themselves into the plush cushion where I sat.

“Fine. If by fine, I mean I’m now dreaming of columns and columns of hockey stats,” I joked, trying to shake off my own nerves.

Oh shit! These chairs were inhibition lowering. Was I at the joking comfort level with my boss? I zipped my lips lest anything else unprofessional slip out.

Jermaine just laughed in response. “I’m glad to see you settling in. I can tell you’re not one for small talk. Truth be told, neither am I, despite appearances to the contrary.”

He was so good-natured it seemed that he would actually like talking to people. But as I knew well, appearances were deceiving.

“On to why I called you in here. Now that you’ve had a month to acclimate yourself to the organization, I’m about to assign you to assist me on a fairly big project. With Cadence away, I’m going to need an extra set of hands. I’ve been impressed by your ability to hit the ground running, so to speak. Now, you’re going to learn to wrangle athletes.” He chuckled to himself.

Why did he make them sound like feral toddlers? How hard could it be to get grown men to fulfill their contractual obligations? Was I missing something?

“Thank you?” I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t used to being complimented on my work. At my last job, I had avoided applying for any promotion opportunities. I’d been focused onlearning as much as I could in a midsized company but didn’t feel right standing in the way of another employee’s career advancement when I knew my time at Appeal Media had a set end date.

I’d also been mistaken in my belief that holding a steady job was going to keep me off my father’s radar. My relocation to Toronto had shown me I was wrong.

“We’ve been contacted by one of the country’s rapidly growing and widely read online sports publications,The 49th. They want to do a feature on a few of the players.”

A sense of foreboding filled my veins, flooding my system head to toe.

Jermaine glanced down at his notes. “They want Andrews, Campbell…”

I knew what was coming.

“And Yao, of course. The Rookie, the Showman, and the Veteran.”

My stomach sank. Maybe getting fired wouldn’t have been so bad. I could have been on a plane back to Amado by the afternoon. My life plan would crumble, but I wouldn’t have to spend any time with Theo.

Was the opportunity to avoid further mortification worth my ten-million-dollar inheritance if I was fired?

Realizing my career dreams with a nonprofit versus losing ten million dollars but never having to face the most horrifyingly embarrassing moment of my life?

I was still on the fence.

Totally oblivious to my internal teenage-crush existential crisis, Jermaine barreled on with the explanation.

“When I said ‘assist’ me, I meant you’re going to have to shoulder most of this, I’m afraid. The powers that be are pulling me in too many directions to do it justice. We need good PR to keep the investors happy. And I need someone to micromanage the crap out of theseboys to make sure this goes smoothly. I’m talking about Campbell specifically. That kid is as predictable as a hyena on cocaine.”

It was a struggle not to smile when he called twenty-one, twenty-six, and thirty-one-year-old men kids. I just nodded along instead of commenting.

“You’re lucky in one respect, though. They’re going to start with Andrews first. He’ll be the easiest one for you to tackle, figuratively speaking. He’s like an overgrown puppy. He won’t give you any trouble. He just needs a review of the media protocol of what to say and what not to say. We don’t want to censor them.”

“Okay. I can do that.” There was a media relations package that I’d practically memorized to prepare for game night posts. Hell, I’d had media training myself at my parents’ insistence before the age of ten.

My life had been one big show-and-tell when it came to the media. That’s why I’d always tried to remain as unremarkable as possible in public. The paparazzi would salivate over catching the “Heiress to the Layne Fortune’’ in a compromising position.

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