Page 48 of Daddies on Ice
Carl nods. “They are handling it. But lawsuits and injunctions pull more attention. We’ll use them if we have to, just not as our first move. They won’t fix tonight. A statement helps but it doesn’t change how people feel, at least not fast enough.”
“So what does?” I ask.
“Show them who you are,” he says. “Give people a clear reason not to believe it. Proof of character.”
“What about an interview?” The idea tastes like chalk, but I throw it out anyway. “Sit down with someone and tell them exactly what you just heard. Put it on the record.”
Ash shakes his head. “It makes you look defensive. Also invites questions we don’t control.”
Tish folds her hands on the table. “There’s a clean statement drafted for socials and the team site. We can push it after morning skate. It sets the record without feeding the fire.”
The room goes quiet long enough for the radiator to click on.
Out on the street, a siren wails and fades.
The iPad screen dims between us and throws my reflection back at me.
Carl glances at Ash, then at Tish, and returns to me. “You need a reason for people to decide you’re the man they want to believe you are.”
The knot under my ribs tightens again. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning the playboy storyline is easy to sell when you help it along,” Carl says, no judgment in his tone. He’s just relating the facts. “You’ve been seen leaving with fans. You’ve been photographed. No laws broken. No rules, technically. But patterns write headlines for you.”
“That’s my life,” I say before I can dress it up. “I don’t owe strangers the details. I show up. I work. I hit clean. I sign for kids. That’s the job.”
“It’s also a business,” Ash says, not unkindly. “And the business is hurting.”
Tish finally looks up.
Her eyes are steady, but the worry in them is real.
This is her ass on the line, too. As PR, it’s her job to get in front of this kind of shit. “We can change the story without lying. We can show a different side. Something grounded. Something steady.”
My pulse shifts from angry to cautious. Steady is not a word anyone uses for me. Steady is a word I’ve stayed away from on purpose.
“What are you actually asking me to do?” The question comes out flat.
Carl doesn’t blink. “Stop feeding the machine. No more taking home whoever twitches their ass at you. For the meantime, you date one person. Publicly. Consistently. Be seen showing up. Be seen going home. Give people a picture that contradicts the rumor without us having to say a word.”
A frown pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. “So, fake a relationship?”
“Or have one,” Ash says. “But yes. A steady relationship. Real is better. Appearances still count.”
Tish studies the tabletop like the veneer just got interesting. A flush rises up her throat. That reaction snaps a tight line inside my chest.
“Who?” I ask, dread filling my veins.
Carl doesn’t make me wait. “I already have someone in mind. Someone the team trusts. Someone who knows the rules of the job and won’t add chaos. If she agrees.”
The room tilts a degree, like the ice when a skate edge catches a rut.
Carl turns to Tish. “How ‘bout it, Trisha? Are you up for the task?”
The words land like a puck off the bar—loud, clean, impossible to ignore.
Tish’s head snaps up. Ash straightens from the dresser. Blood roars in my ears.
Carl keeps going before anyone can fill the air. “We keep it professional.
