Page 7 of Ice Daddy
“That's a given, yes, but we'll take care of that. We'll also arrange for a number of photo-ops and events designed to improve your image in the public's eye. Of course, you'll have to hand over access to your social media accounts to our firm. We will continue to post on your accounts, posing as you, but no one will be any wiser. The content, however, will be much cleaner, positive, and corporate brand-friendly.”
Lance turned to his agent. “You're really not going to fight for me on this, Rick?”
Rick shrugged. “Er, ah, it was actually a clause in your contract … section 613, paragraph b, line 4.Team withholds right to temporarily manage player's social media accounts, if deemed necessary.”
“How didthatclause get in there, Rick?”
Rick cowered under Lance's hot glare.
“The hell do I even pay you for,” Lance muttered with a sigh.
Mr. Tremblay gave Lance a sorrowful look. “Ownership has made this a requirement, Lance. They want you to wear the C, but they're concerned about your rather reckless image.”
Lance frowned. “Wow. Sounds like I don't have a choice, then.”
Kip beamed. “Wonderful. We'll send over some paperwork and get started right away. Lance, we're going to make you into a fine captain.”
The Skype call ended, the screen went black, and the lights in the room returned.
“We done here?” Lance asked curtly.
“I'm sorry, Lance,” Mr. Tremblay said, his jowls dropping. “Technology's changing the world so fast, I'm not sure I understand it anymore. But this is what ownership wants.”
Lance grunted. “Hey. No more social. It's not the end of the world. I always wanted to be captain. I'll do whatever it takes.”
Mr. Tremblay smiled. “That's the attitude we want to see.”
Lance left in a huff and made his way back down the hallway. He held the elevator door when he saw Shea came running down the hall. The elevator doors closed and the two were alone.
“Sorry, Coots,” Shea said, using his nickname—Coots, short for Couture. “Just so you know, I had nothin' to do with that.”
“Don't sweat it. I know you didn't.Youdon't care about that PR bullshit …”
Lance looked over to Shea, expecting him to agree and the two would laugh and tell jokes over the ridiculous meeting they'd just sat through.But Shea seemed to stiffen and grow quiet instead. The captain had a way of commanding the team's attention without having to say a single word. Something about his body language, hisaura,shifted—and suddenly everyone knew to listen up.
“Lance, don't write this PR shit off. Take it seriously. Is it bullshit? Yeah, sure, of course it's bullshit. But you're going to do it and you're going tomeanit.” The veteran sighed. “Yeah, you're one of the best players in the world. But that's not the only thing that matters. The team wants to see you dedicate yourselftotallyto the game.”
Lance's face soured. How much more of himself could he really dedicate to the sport?
But Shea held up a finger before he could protest.
“A good captain has something else to live for. Somethingbeyondthe game. Something bigger than the money and the women and all that bullshit. It's something else, Lance. You've gotta find it.”
Lance was silent for the rest of the elevator ride. He'd been lectured enough, hadn't he?
When the elevator doors opened, the two parted with a hug.
“I'll see you on the flight to Nashville tomorrow,” Shea shouted as he walked off.
“Yeah, see ya.”
Chapter 3
Paige
With Irie slung over her hip, Paige knocked on her parents' front door. Both mother and daughter were bundled up, thanks to an overnight storm that had dumped nearly a foot of snow over Nashville.
Irie tightened her tiny fist around her mother's auburn braid with one hand and jealously squeezed at her face with the other hand.
