Sawyer leans forward, gesturing to the plant. “See this? Everyone thinks success just happens. But growth is a balance. You forget to water it, it wilts. You overwater, it drowns.”
Okay. A guy trying to be funny and a little punny. I can excuse it while I see a few reporters nodding approvingly.
“Half the league is just aggressively watering themselves and calling it growth,” Sawyer continues.
Laughter ripples through the room. His teammates shift uncomfortably.
“Some teams are just weeds that got lucky.”
The laughter turns nervous. Someone kicks him under the table.
Sawyer doesn’t notice. His hands are moving now, big enthusiastic gestures. “And we’re not that. We’re intentional. We know when to?—”
His arm swings wide.
The pot tips.
No.
Soil explodes everywhere. The plant snaps, scattering tiny green pearls across the table as it tumbles to the floor.
Flashbulbs pop.
Sawyer freezes. “Oh.”
The clip cuts.
“He’s my kind of chaos.” Charlie pockets his phone. “But, I’m not sure he’s yours.”
I turn slowly to Carol. “What exactly will he be doing here?”
“It’s open for discussion, but I suggest having him here temporarily for at least two shifts a week, maybe three? We think it could be beneficial for both of you if you host some workshops or community events here at the store with Sawyer’s help and as his schedule allows, so he can bring in more people. We’ll make sure you’re promoted on all the social media channels we can find…It’s all very manageable.”
Weekly. A hockey player. In my shop. Touching my plants.
“He destroyed a string of pearls on live television,” I say.
“I’m seeing a growth opportunity,” Carol says brightly.
“Literally,” Charlie adds.
Carol’s phone chimes. She glances at it, then at Ian, who shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. I get the vibe they want to leave. “When does he start?”
Carol stares at Ian. Something passes between them—a look I can’t quite read but definitely don’t like.
Ian straightens, adjusting his tie. “Actually, I’ll just go grab—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just turns and heads for the door with purpose.
My internal radar goes off. Call it intuition or what you will, but my stomach drops. “Grab what?”
Carol’s smile gets impossibly wider. “Well, you see, we thought it would be wonderful if you two could meet right away. Get the energy flowing, you know? First impressions and all that.”
“Carol.” My voice comes out strangled. “What did Ian just ‘go grab’?”
The bell chimes, and Ian reappears in the doorway, stepping aside with a flourish like a game show host revealing the grand prize.
Behind him, taking up approximately all of the available space, is a man.
Not just any man. A giant. A broad-shouldered, tall-as-a-tree giant. The village-destroying variety. The kind who wears a hoodie like it’s a designer label and smiles that wide because he knows exactly how much space he’s taking up….and finds it highly amusing.
