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As I scoot my chair in, she sits down.
Opening a file folder, she passes a sheet of paper over to me. “Here is the info on the season ticket holder we’re meeting today. He’s a middle-aged man named Adam who has two seats in the lower bowl, center ice. He renewed his tickets from last year before the season even ended, so he’s obviously a dedicated fan. You’ll meet with him and present him his package. It’s a nice silver-and-black Thunder-themed box with our signature dark cloud and Thor-like hammer on the lid. Inside, there’s a QR code to access his digital tickets and some keepsake promo pieces. The photographer will take a few pics. You’ll sign a jersey, and maybe a glossy photo or a puck as well.”
“Okay.” I nod as I blow out a breath, resigning myself to the fact that this just is what it is, and I can’t change it. “Let’s do this.”
With nothing left to say for now, we proceed out to the shiny black town car that’s waiting to take us to the fan’s house.
As Addison gets in behind the driver’s seat, I slip in the back on the passenger side.
We both practically plaster ourselves to the doors, like we can’t put enough space between us.
I’m actually happy when she places her large black work tote in the middle of the seat. A barrier is more than appropriate in this situation.
I’m not planning on making small talk with my nemesis, but curiosity does get the best of me, prompting me to say, “Can I ask you something?”
Flatly, she says, “Sure.”
“Did you follow me down here?”
Gawking over at me in disbelief, she snaps, “Are you high?”
“No.” I laugh. “I definitely am not.”
“Well, then what kind of stupid question is that?”
“A good one,” I retort, “seeing as news of the trade was everywhere. You had to have known.”
Huffing, she says, “Not that I owe you any sort of an explanation, but yes, I knew the Thunder had picked you up when I accepted the job with them. Sorry to dash your egotistical view of yourself, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, even with you in the picture. Also, for the record, the plan was to pretty much avoid you at all costs.”
I can’t help but let out a loud guffaw. “Ha, well it looks like that plan is shot all to hell. I think we’re stuck with each other…at least for a while.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “Don’t remind me. All I know is this is going to be one long-ass beginning of the season.”
Damn, she is so fucking right.
Addison
After my heated exchange in the car with Hayden the Horrible, we arrive at the fan’s suburban ranch house.
The guy is sweet and happy to be visited by a Thunder player. He’s particularly excited that Hayden has joined the team.
At least someone is, right?
Hayden dutifully signs a Thunder jersey and a couple of pucks for the guy, then he meets with his family. The photographer, who was waiting at the house, snaps a bunch of pictures.
All in all, the event is a success.
Hayden is friendly with everyone and, to my surprise, a complete professional. The only thing I hate is that he looks really freaking sexy in his black-and-silver Thunder jersey and jeans.
It kind of softens my opinion of him.
That’s why, when we return to the town car, I stop with my hand on the door handle and, peering over the roof, state begrudgingly, “I think that went well. You did a good job, Hayden.”
“Thanks,” he says, arching a haughty dark brow. “But what did you expect? Did you think I’d act like a caveman or something?”
Jerk!
I almost throw my tote over the roof at him.
