Page 69 of Full Contact

Leah walked into my office with her tablet and sat on the arm of the chair.

“You’ve seen the one about it being a sequel?”

“I have, and this one is worth watching.”

I turned my laptop to face her. It was from a media-commentary account with six figures of reach. A year ago this department invented a relationship for engagement and it blew up on national TV. Now the director is dating the talent and producing a series about his cat. At some point you stop calling it coincidence and start calling it a strategy.

Leah read it twice. “Do we respond?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing in the post we can correct. There’s only a wrong conclusion, and we don’t litigate conclusions.”

She stood, and on her way out she said, “Your lunch is dying. Also, partnerships says the pet food people want to post a sponsored congratulations.”

“No, but tell them thank you.”

“Already drafted.” She was gone.

Carla stopped in my doorway a few minutes later, coffee in hand. She’d been copied on the pet food thread. “You’re handling this exceptionally well.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Somebody at the league office asked me last season who wrote our response on the Rafe situation,” she said. “I told them it was you, and that they couldn’t have you.”

“That’s flattering.”

“I was staking our claim.”

She headed on down the hall. My phone buzzed at three. It was a photograph of Peaches sitting inside a paper grocery bag on Trier’s kitchen floor with one ear bent against the fold, facing the camera.

Trier: Her media availability.

Mark: Strong venue choice. Approachable, but she controls the exits.

Trier: She learned from the best.

I put the phone down and finally opened my salad.

***

Outside the media room ten minutes before afternoon availability, Heath and Kieran stopped me. Heath wanted to know why he couldn’t tell the reporter he was happy for us.

“The coverage is one sentence today. With your comment, tomorrow it becomes a story called Teammates Rally Around Couple, with your name in it. The day after that somebody will call Varga for the funny version, and suddenly it’s a week of coverage. Right now the story dies after the first day. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Heath frowned. “So I say nothing? That feels worse. Like we have a problem with it.”

“You don’t say nothing. You say you heard, everybody’s happy, and you’re here to talk about our next game. Eight words about us, and then hockey.”

“Eight words.”

“You can have ten.”

Kieran had been listening with his arms crossed. “What’s Trier doing?”

“The same thing as Heath, with less patience.”

Heath laughed. Kieran didn’t.

“Where’s Varga?” I asked. “Leah has him third.”