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“Hey.” I tip my chin up and focus my gaze back on the ice.
“They’re doing good tonight,” she observes.
“They are.” Parker has really blossomed this season, and so has Austin. Parker is a naturally gifted player and only at the beginning of his career. Once something is pointed out, he’s quick to use it to his advantage. It’s been good to see positive results and to have Coach Davis and the GM backing my role with the team.
Teresa knows that my job is to watch the game and assess the plays and the players, so she waits until the period is over before she says anything else. I’ve been met with a lot of chagrin and pity over the past week. That’s not what I get with Teresa, though.
“How are you, and how is Kitty?” She crosses one leg over the other.
“I’m okay. Kitty is . . . struggling.”
She nods knowingly. “Public opinion can be tough to handle. Did the videos she posted explaining what really happened make any difference?”
I shake my head. “There’s just so much negativity, and it’s sucking the joy out of her.”
“I get it. People love to take things out of context and make them into something they’re not. It’s annoyingly scandalous for a woman who is a cat lover to punch a dog.” She shakes her head. “It’s frustrating that there isn’t a video out there that shows the entire thing so she can dispel the rumors.”
“I know. I’ve been scouring the sites, but I haven’t been able to find anything to balance out the crappy stuff. And then I just get angry about the things people are saying.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “People are assholes. They love to tear people down. And there’s a weird belief that public figures don’t have feelings, or that their feelings are made of Teflon and that they can handle ridicule and being put under a microscope better than the average person.”
“This is very true,” I agree. I see it all the time with players. They’re held to a different standard. And when they make a mistake, on or off the ice, everyone has something to say about it. “I don’t think Kitty sees herself as a public figure, but I guess she is, isn’t she?”
I’m often in the background of team pictures and videos, but no one ever singles me out. My dog has more followers than I do.
“Oh yeah, she’s totally a public figure now, and a celebrity in the cat-osphere. Brit Sheers has been talking about it for the past week.”
“I tried to reach out to her, thinking maybe if Kitty got a message from her or something that it might boost her morale, but I don’t think she manages her own social media.”
“I have her number. I can reach out if you want,” Teresa offers.
“Seriously? Even if she just got a message or an email, or anything really. That would be fantastic. I don’t know how to make this better, and it’s killing me seeing Kitty so down. She’s always a ray of sunshine, you know? It’s like a huge black cloud is hanging over her head.”
“I totally get it. I’ve messaged Kitty a few times asking if she wants to get together with me and the girls, but she said she’s busy. I didn’t want to push,” Teresa says sympathetically. “I’ll message Brit now. She usually records her episodes in the afternoon, so hopefully I’ll hear back from her before the end of the game.”
Period two begins, so I focus my attention on the ice. Halfway through, Teresa gets up to take a phone call. She comes back as the period ends, wearing a huge smile.
“I talked to Brit. She wants to know if Kitty would be open to doing a live interview. She’s a huge fan.”
“Seriously?”
“Super seriously. She’s outraged by what’s happening to her. I gave her your contact information. She’s supposed to be flying out this way next week to visit a shelter, and she thinks this would be a great way to help smooth things over for Kitty and give her the positive press she deserves.”
And just like that, the sun peeks through the clouds.
chapter twenty-six
PURRFECTLY PAWSITIVE PEOPLE
Kitty
Where’s your car?” I stop in the middle of my driveway, noting the distinct absence of Miles’s Tesla.
He stuffs his hand in his pocket and rocks back on his heels. “I left it at home.”
“Why? How did you get here?”
“I Ubered. Do you have your keys, or do you need to go back in and get them?” He pulls on his tie. His eyes dart from me to my car and back again.
“I don’t want to drive that thing.” I sneer at my car as if it’s the reason for all my problems, not a stupid viral video.
“Then I can drive.”
“Let me rephrase that. I don’t want to be seen in that car, regardless of what seat I’m in.” I haven’t driven it since the park fiasco. I’m too mortified. Before, I wasn’t bothered by the sometimes questioning looks I got. But it’s shifted into outright verbal assault. On one hand, I appreciate the animal rights activists’ passion, but being on the receiving end of their wrath unfairly has shown me a very ugly side of humanity.
