Overnight Sensation(19)

“She’s been a big help so far,” Nate Kattenberger puts in. “If you’ll excuse me—I have a few hands to shake.” He slips off, the way I wish I could, too.

“What did you have in mind?” Rebecca asks. So I guess we’re doing this now.

My father removes a piece of paper from his pocket. “There won’t be any desk jobs this year. I’ve made a list of the more utilitarian jobs at the rink—the ones you end up in when you don’t finish college. Take a look at this.”

“Oh,” Rebecca says slowly. “That’s an interesting approach.”

I want to kick him in the knees with my sparkly shoes. But I won’t make a scene. I look up at him with clear eyes, even if I’m dying inside.

Rebecca takes the list from my father’s hand and skims it. “These are the jobs you think Heidi Jo could do?”

“No—these are all the jobs she will do. All of them. One job a week for ten weeks,” he says.

“Hmm.” Rebecca flashes me a quick look of sympathy. “Covering the stadium ice is a union job,” Rebecca says. “She can’t work with those guys.”

“Then cross that one off.” My father smiles cheerfully. “There’s more than ten things on that list. She’s going to be paid exactly like everyone else who does those jobs—on the payroll—and I’ll personally reimburse each business unit. My assistant is ready to tackle the paperwork for those weeks when she’s…”

“Selling hotdogs for the stadium vendor?” Becca clarifies, still studying the list. “Cleaning locker rooms with the maintenance crew?”

Oh Lord, deliver me.

“For starters,” my father chirps.

“All right,” Rebecca says. “We can work with this. For now. A little later in the season, though, there may be an entry-level job that Heidi Jo can apply for—”

“No,” my father says immediately. Because interrupting people is his favorite pastime. “She will complete at least ten of the tasks on that sheet, or there will be financial consequences for her.”

My heart sinks again. I don’t have to ask what he means, either. My father is the trustee of the trust fund my grandfather left me. He can vest me any time after I turn twenty-one in a few weeks. But he doesn’t have to vest me. He can wait if he chooses.

And Daddy’s been hinting that college dropouts don’t deserve Grandpa’s legacy.

But ten jobs? Ten weeks? The job I want will be long gone by then. Rage bubbles up inside me, and I have to take a deep cleansing breath just to keep it inside.

“In fact we’ll start now,” my father says, crossing his burly arms. “Heidi Jo will be parking cars for the rest of the evening. Please go outside and report to the bell captain. They’re waiting for you.”

“Parking cars?” I squeak. “What does that have to do with hockey?”

“Nothing,” he barks. “But it has a hell of a lot to do with real life. It pays minimum wage. Do you know how much that is?”

I swallow hard. “No, sir,” I say softly. Please don’t make a scene.

“Eleven seventy-five in the New York suburbs. Thirteen-fifty when you’re inside city limits. Now go on. The bell captain’s name is Roger. Don’t keep him waiting.”

There is a horrible awkward pause. I can feel sympathy radiating from Rebecca. Her expression is stunned, with a side dish of appalled. She opens her mouth and then closes it again. My father’s antics are putting her in a very awkward position right now.

The last thing I need is for my future boss to be stressed out over something to do with me. And a well-raised Southern girl always knows how to do the graceful thing that puts everyone at ease. There’s one clear option open to me, and I take it.

I lift my chin as if I own the whole resort. “Good evening, then,” I say to Rebecca. And—without a glance at Daddy—I leave the party to go park some cars in an evening dress and sparkly shoes.





7





Jason


There have been nights when I’ve regretted my life choices. But this really isn’t one of them. I won’t hide from the league commissioner, because I’ve done nothing wrong.

I stand my ground, shaking hands with fans and nursing a beer that would probably taste better from the bottle than from the stuffy goblet the bartender handed me.

The evening passes slowly. But at least I don’t have to avoid Heidi all night, in that killer dress and those fuck-me heels. I have no idea what her father said to her, but she lit out of here no more than two minutes after he arrived, and I haven’t seen her since.

Not that I ought to be looking.

Eventually the commissioner makes his way over to our cluster of players. “Good evening, boys,” he says, shaking O’Doul’s, Bayer’s, and then Silas’s hand. “I expect more great things from the team this year.”

“So do we,” O’Doul says easily.

The commissioner is well-respected, even though he’s only held the job for a couple of years so far. He had a hell of a career in Nashville before retiring to become their defensive coach and then general manager. He’s known to be a shrewd negotiator who always gets what he wants.

When he turns to me, I offer my hand, and I’m not entirely surprised when he attempts to crack all of my bones at once.