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Kelsey looks up from her trainwreck of a desk, laser-focusing on me. Jesus. How is one curvy little slip of a woman so utterly terrifying? I do not know. And yet…there she sits. Blonde hair up in a bun. Pen stabbed through it like she's using the hair as a holster in case she wants to stab one of us with the damn thing later. Glittery shadow on her eyelids. Pink lipstick on her lips. Looking like she knows every bad thing I've ever done.
And let's face it. I've done a lot of bad shit. Like the time I put itching powder in everyone's practice jerseys. Or the timeI painted my ass in team colors and streaked across the arena during a stakeholder event. And let's not forget the time I kissed a gossip reporter in a sex club. No, we can't forget that.
"It's ten in the morning, Jonas. What can you possibly have to explain this early?"
I open my mouth to tell her, and she throws up a hand.
"You know what? Unless you murdered someone, got someone pregnant, spent the night in jail, have an addiction, need mental health care, or broke a law, I'm not dealing with it," she says, pressing her hands to her pink cheeks. "I only have time for one crisis today, and Theo's trumps yours."
"Theo has a crisis?"
She huffs, narrowing her eyes at me. "Do you read your texts?Oryour emails?"
"Only when you make me." I lean back, planting my foot against the wall behind me. "What's Theo's crisis?"
"Are you asking because you want to know or because you're trying to decide how mad I'm going to be about yours?" she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
"You have no faith in me."
She shrugs. "That's because I know you. You tell me yours. I'll tell you his."
"I thought you didn't want to know mine."
"No, I said I'm not dealing with yours," she says, batting her lashes at me. "I never said I didn't want to know it." She points at the only chair in her office that isn't piled high with shit. "Sit. Explain."
I eye the scissors on her desk. They're way too fucking close to her hand. "I'd rather stand."
She follows my gaze to the scissors and rolls her eyes. "You guys are such overdramatic big babies. I've never actually stabbed anyone, you know."
"What about that time with Wes and the fork?"
"Wes doesn't count as someone," she snorts, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "He's more like an illness I can't get rid of."
"Herpes," I say, nodding.
"First of all," she says, placing the scissors in her desk drawer with a dramatic flourish. "Don't compare Wes to people living with an STD. It's not nice to people living with an STD. Having an STD doesn't make them any less deserving of love, respect, or empathy. Wes, on the other hand…."
"You're right. Sorry." This is what I love about Kelsey. She's a savage, but underneath that tough-as-nails exterior beats a heart of gold. She's a demon, yes. But she genuinely cares about people and will kick our asses if we step out of line when it counts. We give her hell, but we wouldn't trade her for anyone because she makes all of us better people.
"Secondly, I know you're stalling. What did you do?"
"You really don't know?" I ask, just to make sure she isn't fucking with me. I was sure it'd be all over the damn place by now. It's been twelve hours since Jamie leftDionysus. I should know. My cock has been hard for eleven and a half of them.
It's a good thing I make as much as I do because my water bill is going to be high as a motherfucker this month. I took three cold showers. And I still jerked off four times. It would have been five, but we have practice tomorrow. Coach will be pissed if my hand is cramping and I can't hold my stick.
"Know what?" Kelsey demands, throwing her hands up. "I've been here all morning dealing with Theo's crisis. It's all over the freaking news. Unless you screwed up badly enough to hit the news, I don't have a clue what you did this time."
"Actually…."
"Are you freaking kidding me right now, Jonas?" she cries, throwing a pen at me.
I bat it out of the air like freaking Batman. The second one hits me right between the eyes. Why the fuck she's a publicist and not a pitcher, I don't know. She has damn good aim.
"You deserved that," Kelsey mutters, scowling at me.
"Coach is going to be pissed when you take an eye out doing that shit," I warn her.
"Coach approves of my methods." She smirks at me. "Stop stalling and start talking, Michaud."
