Page 1 of Mr. Charming

One

Tedi

“I don’t know, maybe Gill has a talent none of us appreciates.” I drop the pictures from the Chicago Falcons social media campaign on the conference table.

Mindy, my assistant, picks them up and scans through the player photos. “What exactly would that be? It looks like the Falcon players work on the board of an insurance company.”

“Exactly! Anyone who can get Tweetie Sorenson to look like he’s knocking on your door to give you a complimentary quote on life insurance deserves some credit.” I slide his picture across the table toward the other members of my team, not wanting to look at it any longer.

When the national league promoted me to put together a social media campaign for each franchise—hoping to improve attendance across all arenas, increase social media engagement, and improve viewership—I was thrilled. This is my opportunity to shine and show them what I can do, even if I know that my new position was formed because of the commissioner’s ego. His brother is the commissioner of the football league, and they have a sibling rivalry going on. In the interview, my mission was clear—make every hockey team and player household names to ensure there are more hockey fans than football fans.

As I sit in a plush chair in a conference room that overlooks the Manhattan skyline, living a dream I never even envisioned for myself, my stomach sours as the picture of Tweetie gets passed around, each one of my team members commenting about how well he cleans up.

The thirteen years since we first met don’t seem to have aged him, only made him more handsome. Of course it did. Meanwhile, I’m hunting down every face serum and lotion that promises to keep my youth intact.

No one in this room knows my past with the man who is still the best left wing in the league except, for Lyric since we’ve become close friends. It’s a past so twisted that just seeing his picture makes that almost healed crack in my heart fracture again.

“No offense, but none of these guys look fuckable.” Mindy slides the pictures back in front of me. Thankfully, it’s Tweetie’s teammate Rowan’s picture on top.

“Yeah, we need them looking rough and tough,” Jasmine says before sipping on her green smoothie.

“Exactly. They need to look like they can pick you up over their shoulder and drag you into the bedroom,” Lyric says next to her. “I get that Henry Hensley is a dad, but damn, he looks like he works a nine-to-five and wears black socks and sandals mowing his lawn in the summer. We want a daddy, not a dad.”

We all laugh.

I knew Gill wasn’t the norm of who I usually hire, but finding thirty-two people to put out in the wild on their own was a challenge. We had lots of applicants, but I had to make sure they weren’t going to be fangirling or fanboying over the players. Or in it just to try to springboard the job into furthering their own social media following. They were hired to do a job. The last thing I need is to have to tell the commissioner that one of my hires is sleeping with a player.

“Look at the Florida Fury. Aiden Drake doesn’t look like the old man in the league here.”

I stop the sliding picture Lyric pushes across the table at me, and I bite down my smile. “I’m not going to ogle my best friend’s husband, but yeah, Aubrey did a great job on their campaign. Slide over the others.”

After I have them in my hands, it occurs to me that maybe I purposely sent Aubrey to Florida because they’ll always have a special place in my heart.

“Warner looks good too.” Seeing him and Aiden and even Kane as the coach reminds me of what they all have. We all started there together, and somehow, I’m still the single one with no kids, ovaries drying up by the minute.

“Aubrey is the best.” Mindy looks at me. “You played favorites with that one.”

I drop the pictures. Mindy’s not wrong. And I have a sinking feeling that I did the opposite to the Chicago Falcons for personal reasons as well.

“Well, we have to fix this. They’re positioned to win the Cup this year.” Jasmine leans back in her chair. “Want me to go over there and straighten Gill out?”

I examine everything Gill sent me. The meet-and-greet photos that look like a grade school class picture, the videos that look as though they belong on a ten-year-old’s lip-synching social media account. I could easily send Jasmine and wash my hands of this. She’d do a great job. She’s young and vibrant and has the eye to make the Falcons the “it” team in the league.

“Knock, knock.”

We all swivel in our chairs to find the commissioner, Mr. Herington, in the doorway.

I straighten in my chair. “Mr. Herington, good morning.”

He steps into the room. My boss, Calvin, follows, cringing behind him. What does that mean? Are my entire team and I about to be fired?

Mr. Herington takes the seat at the end of the long conference table. He’s tall and lean and intimidating as hell. Not at all what you’d think the league commissioner would look like. His piercing blue eyes land on me. “Tedi, I received a phone call yesterday.”

Calvin cringes again as he sits. So, it wasn’t a good phone call, I take it.

“Oh?”

“Bud, the GM over in Chicago, called. Usually I’d send something like this down to Calvin, but Bud and I go way back. He saw some of the other campaigns and feels as if theirs is lacking.”

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