Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(30)

“Just remember Baby Shark.”

“You’re evil.” That song had been in his head the entire first period last night.

“Don’t I know it,” she said with an exaggerated mwahahahaha laugh. “Night, Zach.”

“Night, Fallon.”

He hit the end call button, a smile on his lips, but a nugget of dread in his belly. He had to persuade her to keep being Lady Luck. Sure, it sounded dumb even when he didn’t say it out loud, but he couldn’t argue with the results.

With Fallon, he played like he did in the beginning—like it was all just for fun.

That’s what had made the difference.

Once he got her to agree, he’d make sure security kept an eye out for her at the arena, and he’d get with Kyle’s assistant to put a stop to the shitty social media posts. Lucy would see the things he’d missed, and he’d make sure those things were covered, too. There was a way to make this work for him and for Fallon. Maybe he could get the other guys on the team to make an appearance at the clinic during the next fundraiser. God knew everyone in Harbor City loved forward Cole Phillips—and for good reason. That guy was going to end up in the Hall of Fame someday.

He was still pondering when his phone vibrated with a notification. Since the whole Reese’s Pieces vs Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups debacle, he’d started to keep a closer watch on his social media.

Notification: Get Zach’s Lady Luck’s Effortless Style

He clicked. It was a story from the High Heeled Wonder, a local Harbor City fashion blogger, detailing Fallon’s outfit at the game last night with buy links for her jeans and shoes. That started him off on a rabbit hole of posts about his Lady Luck. Yeah, some of the comments were super critical, but the vast majority of them were supportive. Someone had already started a #TeamZuck (Zach + Lady Luck) Instagram account. That was weird, but just maybe there was a way to use all this fan energy.

The idea hit him like a high stick to the orbital bone. It was a high risk, high payoff play. But knowing Fallon’s snarky, take-no-prisoners sense of humor, she’d find the whole thing hysterical. Without giving himself a second to overthink his plan, he turned on the camera to do a live Instagram video and clicked start.

“Hey all! I just want to say thank you for your support of the Ice Knights and let you know that tomorrow I’ll be at the Beacon All Access Clinic in Waterbury for a meet and greet carnival fundraiser to help raise money for this amazing clinic. Come on by, hang out with me, and help the clinic meet its fundraising goal.”

And if he had any non-Lady Luck mojo, this would put him in the perfect position to score when it came to finishing the negotiations tomorrow.





Chapter Eleven


The Beacon clinic was tucked away on the border between a middle-class neighborhood and one where the cracked windows weren’t always replaced but fixed in a long-term way with clear packing tape instead. Zach’s Uber slowed down in front of the clinic ten minutes before Fallon had told him to show up. People, most of them in Ice Knights gear, were lined up down the block and around the corner.

“Damn, man,” the driver said. “Think they’re here to stone you or take pics?”

“Probably both at the same time.” The crowd looked friendly, but they always did until he got within a few yards and things turned growly. He’d been hoping for a good turnout, but he hadn’t been expecting all this. “I’ll give you an extra ten to drop me off in the alley.”

“You got it, man.”

The driver did, zipping his sedan down the alley and stopping in the employee parking lot behind the clinic. Zach pulled his baseball cap down low and hurried over to the back door. There was a keypad but no handle or intercom.

Shit.

He got out his phone.

Zach: Help. I’m at the clinic back door.

LL: Why?

Zach: There are a million people out front. How could you have missed that?

LL: Holy crap. Just peeked out front. Hope we have enough hot dogs and balloons.

Zach: Can you let me in the back?

LL: On my way.

Thank Gretzky. The last thing he wanted was to do a meet and greet before he was mentally prepped. Some players took it all in stride. Not him. After what had happened with his parents, his biggest fear was having something slip and then being confronted with it out in public. At least his parents had kept their mouths shut about the whole fiasco, which had been an unexpected blessing. There was no way he wanted anyone to know what a fuckup he’d made, how stupid he’d been. The one-million-dollar kiss-off check he’d written to his parents had probably helped. They knew there wasn’t any more money coming because that had been the last of it and his broke ass didn’t have any more.

“Oh my God, Abby, you know Emma is just a judgmental hag.” The woman’s voice was coming from around the corner, but it wasn’t far off. “No one in their right mind thinks your butt is too big.”

He glanced back at the door and willed Fallon to open it right then.

“Then why did she just tell me that back pockets this size on my jeans were not recommended?” another woman asked.

The voices were getting closer. He took a step farther back into the shadows by the clinic’s back door.

“Abby, you have got to listen—oh my God, you’re Zach Blackburn! We came all the way from Huddleston to see you today.”