Page 25 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Seven
Harper
“Fuck.” He rakes one hand through his tousled mane of gorgeous dark hair and I almost drool with envy because I’d love to run my fingers—stop that. No daydreaming about your professional meal ticket in that very unprofessional way.
No matter how much current circumstances have blurred the line of professionalism, I know where the bright red line is and that’s squarely in front of any physical contact. Correction, I shouldn’t even be daydreaming about physical contact. Let’s double the width of that red line.
“I’m sorry,” he says.” I nod and shut down the discussion, closing myself off so tightly I’m not sure the sound of his voice could penetrate the barrier if he spoke another word. He’s finished with lunch, which means he’s eaten every last morsel of food on his plate and whatever was left on mine, not that I mind. He dismisses himself to take a nap, refraining from quipping the innuendo I can see and feel is perched on the tip of his tongue. But true to his promise to behave, he shuts his mouth and shuts the bedroom door behind him.
I wish I could say his removal from the room eases my tension, but he’s right about the weight of my family’s financial problems straining me.
Retreating to my bedroom, I slip my phone out and stare at it a minute, torn between the need to check up and the fear about what Mom might say. In the end, I hike up my big girl panties and hit the icon for Mom’s phone number.
“Are you coming home for your brother’s graduation?” Shit. I hesitate, not sure what to say, but surely the Brawlers’ season will be over by then, right?
“I think so—when is it?”
“In mid-May. A kid only graduates high school once, Harper. You have to be there. Charlie would be so disappointed.”
“I’ll do my best. You know that. It’s just that I have this assignment and it’s really big and I stand to make a bonus—enough to pay off the debt once and for all.” There’s silence on the other end of the line and I don’t have to see my mom to know that abject sorrow drains her face of all joy at the nasty subject. No sense in asking the next question on my mind about what Charlie’s going to do after high school. It’s all but a foregone conclusion that he’ll have to work instead of going to college because we can’t afford it and the guilt tightens my gut. Loans are out of the question because the debt killed our family’s credit rating. He’s a long shot for a hockey scholarship and we’re all hoping, but we can’t count on that.
“If we’re successful—and I know we will be—I’m all but guaranteed a promotion too and then Charlie doesn’t have to worry about college—”
“Let’s not jump the gun, sweetheart. I know you’re trying hard. We all are. I’m putting in extra hours and Charlie is working hard too. A little hard work never hurt anyone. But still, you need to take time off to come home to your brother’s graduation. No matter what.” She’s right, of course.
“I’ll be there, Mom. Promise.” It’s not the first time I’ve made a rash promise, letting my heart lead and overtake all reason. But I can do it. What’s the worst that could happen? I miss a game? My family lives in Connecticut, so I can drive there and get back in a matter of hours. I could pull it off if I had to.Shit. Don’t borrow trouble, Harper. Chances are graduation will be on an off day and if I have to, I’ll take Maddox with me. The idea causes all kinds of excitement to race along my nerve endings and I snort out loud at how ridiculous I’ve become about the man. Another good reason to look forward to the end of the season. The end of my family’s debt, thanks to a raise and promotion. And the beginning of a new work-life balance where I date.Nonclients.
Taking a deep breath, I plunge into my next phone call in a reasonably confident frame of mind.
“Mr. Vizzy, thank you for taking my call.” I explain to the CEO of Mamma Regina’s that with Knight’s new team, the Boston Brawlers, I’m personally handling all his social engagements, including good works and charitable causes.
“I can personally guarantee he will be the best behaved hockey player in the NHL, sir. We’re so confident at the Jett Agency that we would be happy to cover the cost of a new commercial shoot and Knight would be happy to do one as long as it’s local.” This last part I got permission from Jett with great reluctance, but we both agreed the agency could afford it, and once we got one company to cut Maddox a break others would follow. It’s a sad fact that people in this business are like sheep, following the her or the trend. As soon as one sponsor re-signs him, others will follow suit. I explain my idea to shoot the commercial at Boston’s Children’s Hospital, with their cooperation, and highlighting both Mama Regina’s and Knight’s generosity and everyone’s love of their pizza..
“That’s a very interesting offer, Ms. St. John.”
“Call me Harper.”
“Of course. Harper, you obviously have a lot of confidence and real loyalty for your man Knight. That’s admirable.” He pauses and I force myself to not speak since the puck’s still in his zone, so to speak, and I need him to commit under the pressure of my waiting him out. An old trick Jett taught me. He said he learned it on the ice, though he never explained how it worked. One of my boss’s quirks is he likes to be a little bit mysterious, hold his cards close to his vest, and savors the ability to surprise whoever’s on the other side of the negotiation.
And that means everyone and anyone who’s on the other side of any given conversation. I swear he negotiates with his mother over morning coffee.
“I’ll tell you what,” Vizzy says. “I’ll agree to your proposition if we do the shoot now, say within the next two weeks when the Brawlers’ schedule allows, and wait to air it at the end of the season. No payment until that decision is made.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say. “I’ll see that we can fit it in his schedule. And I’ll be there too. Handling Mr. Knight.” He chuckles.
"I'm sure you will."
“Professionally,” I add in a cool voice. I promise to send him some dates for the shoot and we end the call. Maybe I took Vizzy the wrong way, but I let the innuendo slide off my shoulders because I still have work to do.
I need to get the hospital on board. Luckily I have an influential contact there who owes me a favor. And she knows very well that whatever Knight has been accused of lately, he’s always been good to children’s hospitals, generous with his time and money, even if the money part has been well hidden. And this is important enough for Knight for me to call in a favor.
There’s a knock at the door and my friend Shelly shouts at me from the other side to open up. I drop my phone and the Mama Regina promo vanishes from my head. The ache in my chest that I didn’t realize was all about needing a friend pushes everything else aside and propels me to the door so fast you’d think I was back on the ice at the arena. I throw open the door, and my need to hug Shelly for all I’m worth is thwarted by the giant box of my things that I had shipped to her place and that she’s now carrying in front of her as she stumbles into the room.
“I made it!”
“Shelly, I’m so glad you’re here.” I grin like a girl in an orphanage desperate for a real family. I hug her around the box and help her with it into my room. We dump it on my bed and I give her a real hug.
“This is going to be great—like old times in college. Maybe I can find us a pickup game.”
