Page 12 of Role Model

She turned her attention back to her computer. “It’s not my job to like them; it’s my job to make them look good. And Barrett’s pretty face makes my job easy. Hopefully he’s not an accomplice to sexual assault, but if he is, well, he’s not the only player in this league who is, I’m sure.”

Harris chewed his lip. Probably not. For whatever reason, though, he didn’t think Troy was an accomplice. He’d barely met the man, but he wanted to believe Troy was a good person, even if only for professional reasons. Harris liked every member of the Ottawa team, and he didn’t want that to change.

“Okay,” Gen said, pushing back from her desk with a loud rumble of chair wheels against the hard floor. “I have to go take photos of Haas modeling some of the new fan gear.”

“That sounds easy,” Harris said. “Haas is adorable.” Luca Haas was a twenty-year-old rookie from Switzerland with blond hair and a baby face that flushed easily. He’d been the number two overall draft pick a couple of years ago, and Ottawa fans were excited to have him on the team this season.

“I’ll bet I can get him to do some really ridiculous poses. Do you think he’d let me dump a bucket of water on him if I told him we needed a wet look?”

Harris laughed, imagining it. Luca was extremely polite and very eager to please. “Be nice to him. He gets enough shit from his teammates.”

“It’s his fault for being so fun to tease.”

Harris was alone in the office for about five minutes before he heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door, which had already been ajar, slowly pushed open, and Harris could not have been more surprised when Troy Barrett walked into the room.

Troy watched as Harris’s smile was replaced by a confused frown when he entered his office.

“Oh,” Harris said. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Harris stood from where he’d been sitting behind his computer. “This is a surprise.”

“Yeah, um.” Troy rubbed his own neck. He may as well get this over with. “I’m sorry. I was rude last night. You were being nice and I was a dick, as usual.”

Harris raised his eyebrows. “You came all the way here to apologize to me?”

Troy had done exactly that, but now that he was being asked, point-blank, he felt a little silly. “I’m just at the hotel down the road.” Damn. He should have said he needed to be here anyway for something else. That would have been cooler.

Harris’s smile returned. “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Thanks.” Now Troy wasn’t sure what to do. Leave, he supposed.

“Actually,” Harris said before Troy could escape, “I was thinking this morning, about you and social media. I don’t blame you for hating it. I’ve seen how people have been talking about you online. It’s...not nice.”

“I try not to pay attention to any of that.”

“Good plan. But if you wanted to put a different image of yourself out there, I’m very good at my job.”

Troy wasn’t sure what being good at posting shit on Twitter meant, but he was determined to be more open-minded. “I’ll think about it.”

This time he really was going to leave, but Harris stopped him again with another question. “How do you like Ottawa so far?”

Troy’s knee-jerk reaction was to say something bitchy about the dull city he was being forced to call home, or to remind Harris that he lived in a hotel room that was practically attached to the rink, but he managed to be civil. “It’s okay. Haven’t seen much of it.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life, so I can answer any questions.”

Troy had no doubt, even though he barely knew the guy, that if he asked Harris to recommend a restaurant, he would enthusiastically rattle off a hundred options, along with detailed reasons why each were great.

“Have you looked for a place to live yet?” Harris asked.

“No. I’ll do that when we get back from our road trip.”

“Are you thinking downtown, or closer to the rink?”

“Not sure.” To be honest, Troy didn’t care. He was planning on renting something furnished and simple because he had no intention of staying in Ottawa past this season. He would use this year to prove that he was still a valuable asset, then move on to a better team. “Where do you live?”

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