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I shoot them both the finger. “Thanks, guys. I feel so much better now.”
As we share a laugh, the waiter comes by to clear our plates.
After he leaves, Nils says, “Ah, hell, don’t sweat it. Maybe you and Addison will come to a truce. And who knows? You may even become friends over time.”
He’s such an optimist.
“Or—” Arden waggles his brows suggestively. “—maybe something more will develop. I’ve seen this chick, and she fucking oozes sex appeal. You do know that hate-fucks can be hot, right?”
“That may be true,” I begrudgingly agree. “But the day she and I can actually stand each other for more than two seconds, let alone hook up, will be the day hell freezes over. And I think we all know that day will never come.”
Addison
Iwatch the first game of the season on the TV in the kitchen while I cut up an assortment of fresh vegetables for a big batch of homemade beef stew I’m making. I figure it will last me through the week for the days I don’t feel like cooking or dealing with takeout.
Plus, it’s my grandma’s recipe and it’s freaking delicious.
I made it all the time in Chicago, but this is my first time preparing it here.
I guess I really am settling into my new life.
As I quarter sweet onions, I listen to the TV.
Each player is announced, and when I hear Hayden’s name, I stop what I’m doing and look up.
I want to assess the crowd response.
Hmm, he’s met with mostly cheers as he takes the ice, raising his stick and skating around. But I also hear a few boos.
That just tells me we have a lot of work still to do.
All the pictures from the ticket delivery event are up on the team website. I also managed to have several of them posted, along with a positive accompanying story, in the local newspaper’s online sports section.
The autograph signing session also went well, but it was a short one with not a lot of coverage. We have a longer one this Sunday at a local mall. I’m trying to get the word out on that one. Not only have I set up advertising online, but I’ve already invited the same photographer from our first event to stop by to document Hayden signing and interacting with fans.
“Small steps,” I remind myself as I return to cutting the onions. “We’ll get there.”
I’m going to make sure Hayden Harrington is loved by all.
Well, everyone but me.
Another good thing is Ms. Garcia is pleased with my progress so far. She’s particularly impressed that even when I’m in the office, I’m working diligently on getting the word out about not only Hayden’s events but other events for the team, as well.
I should soon be able to set up some of my own.
With all the onions quartered, I add them to the big stockpot on the stove, along with carrots and potatoes I cut up earlier, fresh peas, and big, hearty chunks of beef.
After adding my grandma’s secret seasoning and a few other special ingredients, I place the lid on the pot and return to the TV.
Crossing my arms, I watch the opening puck drop.
Hayden wins the face-off.
“Yes,” I murmur. “That’s how you start the first game of the season. Now let’s keep it going.”
I can’t believe I’m rooting for Hayden, but I have to. Like it or not, he’s my player. And if he does his part and plays well, along with stringing together a bunch of successful events, we may actually rehabilitate his image sooner rather than later.
I blow out a breath.
