Page 114 of The Import Slot
“How was Ladies’ Night, Jenna?” Bella asks me.
“Yeah, fine, thanks,” I reply, but I grab my earbuds and pop them in just as a text message comes through from Travis.
Travis:You ok, Jen? Saw some stuff online concerning Ryan.
I send him back a few question marks, and he pings a reply with a link to Instagram. Ryan’s name is the hashtag, and it’s full of photos, mainly selfies with some attendees from Ladies’ Night.
One of them catches my eye: Rochelle. She’s put a picture up that’s just Ryan, but her hand is touching his arm, and she’s put the caption ‘dinner with my man’. I laugh out loud and forward it to Ryan. It’s beyond embarrassing for her.
After pressing play on my playlist, I toss my phone back on my desk. Music booms through my earbuds, and I crack on with my coding. I’m messing with the layout today, getting a few options to present before committing.
Vicky plops back down at her desk, and I can see her lips moving, forcing me to take out a bud.
“You okay?” she asks, eyeing me.
I pass her my phone, showing her what Travis has just sent me.
“She can’t let it rest, can she?” Vicky sighs.
“Nope.”
“Jen, can you come down to the ice with me, please?”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I need to kick some ass and get some photos, and I want you to keep me company.”
“Are you taking photos of the ass-kicking, or?”
“Jenna. Please?”
She slides her feet back into her heels and stands up.
I can’t think of a good enough reason not to, so I lock my computer, and we head out of the office toward the ice.
“I just wanted to get out of earshot of Bella too. I don’t trust her,” Vicky says as she adjusts her skirt with one hand, camera clutched in the other.
We push through the double doors of the stairwell into the entrance lobby.
“Ryan hasn’t done—”
“I know. I need to kick ass about something else. But Rochelle is a nightmare. Wish she’d leave the boys alone and snake back to Matt Rodgers.”
There’s a bit of a crowd around the shop as they’re releasing some new merchandise today. A massive poster of Ryan mid-celly hangs overhead, next to one of Johnny, with his arms spread and one of Jasper, the netty, catching a puck with his glove.
“What’s wrong with Bella, anyway?” I ask.
We walk through the lobby and into the bar area, following the path to another set of double doors leading to the ice. As soon as Vicky pushes through, the cold hits us square in the face. I have a team fleece on today and pull the zip up.
“She’s such a gossip. Everything we say ends up on the forum in some form. I think she’s posting stuff on there. I went to see the GM to see if we can get it restricted or something.”
“Do you really think she’d do something like that?” I ask. “When that other stuff got out, it was Bettsy’s big mouth.”
“That’s true, actually. Fuck, I don’t know.”
We’re standing rink side now and heads turn in our direction.
I lock eyes with Ryan, and he winks.
