Page 11 of Bar Down

"No," she agreed, her expression softening. "They're family. An annoying, overprotective, occasionally infuriating family."

The word hit home. Family. Not how Marcus typically thought about work relationships, but dead-on accurate in this case.

"Then let's not keep them waiting," he said.

As they moved toward the deck, Stephanie hesitated, then touched his arm briefly. The casual contact sent heat shooting through his sleeve.

"Just so we're clear on strategy—let me smooth out the edges of your analysis. These guys need hope along with facts."

In the past, he might have argued that false hope was worse than the truth. Instead, he nodded. "I can work with that."

Her smile was genuine this time. "We might actually make a good team."

That feeling in his chest came back, stronger this time. As they walked together toward the fire pit, Marcus remembered last month's charity event when he'd overheard Stephanie defending his approach to a skeptical board member: "Yes, he's intense about the numbers, but there's always hockey sense behind them. Marcus sees plays developing that nobody else catches." She'd never said anything like that to his face.

Maybe this alliance had been building longer than either of them realized.

***

STEPHANIE

Stephanie had built her career on reading people. Body language, microexpressions, tone shifts—these were her analytics, her data points for navigating the chaos of professional sports. Yet Marcus consistently defied easy categorization.

Like now, as he sat across the fire pit, calmly explaining to the team what he knew about Darby & Darby's history. His posture was straight as a skate blade (as always), his delivery steady (as always), but something was different. He was making eye contact with individual players. Pausing to let information sink in. Even—most shocking of all—occasionally tossing to her for the "human element" context.

Behind them, music thumped through Kane's ridiculous sound system. In the kitchen, Liam and a couple rookies were doing vodka shots, howling after each one. Dmitri's booming laugh cut through everything as he arm-wrestled Ethan on the coffee table, a crowd of teammates cheering them on with beer bottles raised.

Somehow, the team meeting continued despite the party raging around them.

"Bottom line," Marcus concluded, setting aside his barely touched wine, "roster changes are likely, but not guaranteed. Their previous teams show a pattern of keeping core talent while replacing about 30% of support staff."

The team exchanged glances, digesting this. Jax crushed an empty beer can against his forehead and tossed it into an already overflowing recycling bin. His wife Lauren rolled her eyes.

"What Marcus means is that they'd be idiots to break up what's working.” Stephanie stepped in seamlessly. “You guys are having a great season. But some changes come with any ownership shift."

"What about coach?" Ethan asked, as Chenny poured tequila into his empty cup. The kid had fought hard to earn his spot under Coach Vicky's system.

Marcus looked to Stephanie, a silent handoff that surprised her with its smoothness.

"Coach Vicky has one of the best records in the league since taking over," she replied, raising her voice to be heard over Mateo's terrible karaoke attempt in the background. "Her position is locked through this season at minimum. Beyond that..."

"Beyond that, we play our asses off and make them look stupid if they even think about replacing her," Kane interjected, captain mode fully engaged despite the beer pong trophy sitting next to him from his earlier victory.

A chorus of "fuck yeah" and clinking bottles passed through the team.

"What about you two?" Chenny asked, looking between Marcus and Stephanie while petting his dog Charlie, who somehow remained calm despite the party chaos. "Word is Darby's big on analytics. Where does that leave PR?"

The question hung in the air. Stephanie felt twelve pairs of eyes shift to her, including Marcus's steady gaze. For a moment, her PR mask slipped. These weren't just players she managed or colleagues she sparred with. Over three seasons, they'd become her people—surrogate brothers who texted her at midnight when media crises erupted, who remembered her birthday with increasingly ridiculous gifts (including a life-size cardboard cutout of herself that still occasionally appeared in unexpected places around the facility), who trusted her to protect them from the worst of public scrutiny.

"PR isn't going anywhere," she said firmly, voice cutting through a nearby beer pong argument. "But the approach might change. Marcus and I are developing a strategy that keeps the human element while bringing in his number magic."

She glanced at Marcus, half-expecting him to contradict her optimistic spin. Instead, he nodded.

"Stephanie and I have established an alliance to ensure both sides are covered," he said, nearly getting drowned out as Dmitri cranked the music volume for his favorite song.

"Spreadsheets and Media Witch joining forces?" Dmitri yelled over his shoulder. "This I must see."

"Ten bucks says they kill each other before the season is over," Jax offered, sloshing beer as he gestured dramatically.

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