Page 17 of The Do-Over Girl

KALI

It’s only two days into the semester, and Nikki insists we meet with Nash at lunchtime to get a status report.

“We need to make sure we’re all on the same page,” she says.

I’m sitting in one of the two guest chairs in front of her beat-up desk, already half finished with my wrap, when Nash walks in. I put the uneaten half down and wipe my mouth, my tummy suddenly anything but hungry.

“Maybe I ought to add a new desk for the Principal’s office to my list of things to buy for this place.” Nash sits, eying Nikki’s desk. He spreads out his legs and takes all the space and air in the room. He really is larger than life, but without being outrageously large. In fact, I remember him being very— Shut it down, Kali.

“You’re spending enough of your own money,” Nikki smiles at him, which is annoying. “Archie told me about your project to fix up the arena.”

“This so-called job is costing me a shitload of money. But I have it, so what the hell? I don’t mind spending it where it’ll do some good. Of course, that won’t stop me from giving Rink grief for setting me up.”

“Makes sense for you to take an interest in fixing the arena named for you,” I say. Then I cringe at my own willful pettiness. As he turns to me, I feel the heat of shame. “I…I’m sorry—that was uncalled for.” I look away from him and his neutral game face, almost wishing he’d reprimand me and get on with it.

Nikki clears her throat. “Well, I can see I don’t need to ask how you two are getting along.”

“No, don’t get the wrong idea.” Nash straightens in his chair, and with nothing but sincerity in his eyes and the serious set of his face, he says, “It’s my fault. I’ve instigated—in the name of fun, but at Kali’s expense.” He turns to me with the full power of his handsome face and lopsided soft smile, no hint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kali. I’ll behave like a grown adult from now on. No more teasing. I swear.” He holds up one hand and then places it over his heart.

The gesture brings a flood of memories. It was the same thing he used to do when we argued—except then, his words were different. He would always make that gesture as he told me how much he loved me. Shit.

“No apology necessary,” I murmured. “I’m an adult, too, and I know—or should know—how to take a joke.” My smile feels stiff, but I work at it, trying not to cry at the memory or wonder if he made the gesture to make a mockery of his apology, knowing full well I’d remember the way things used to be. Shit. I can’t seem to make myself trust anything he says or does.

With the oversized heap of baggage we have between us, I can’t take anything from him at face value. Not yet. I owe it to both of us to give it time. Plus, I promised Nikki I would try harder.

“That’s great. Glad we cleared the air,” Nikki says, either oblivious to my discomfort—which is good—or ignoring my stupid issues—which is also good because I need to get over myself and mean what I said about taking a joke and behaving like an adult. “Here’s a draft plan for fundraising and a list of potential donors, including alumni and businesses and people you might want to reach out to.”

We each take the plastic-covered booklet and shuffle through the pages.

Nash harrumphs. “You’ve named every player in the NHL I’ve ever played with and some I haven’t.”

“I did my homework.”

I look over the list and feel my face growing tighter. There are a lot of names on it attached to New York firms, most of my contacts from my previous career—or my previous life, I should say. I love a challenge, but suddenly, I’m aware that all these people and businesses were Brad’s contacts and friends, too. Shit.

“What’s the matter, Loll—Kali?”

Fuck. I need to keep my cool. I promised not to overreact. Mostly because he’s only trying to rile me up, and I can shut him down with a smile.

“Nothing,” I say and turn to Nikki. “You included my ex…boss on this list.”

“Of course.” Nikki smiles with false innocence. I remember the look. She was always the more mischievous one of the two of us.

“Okay. I can handle this, but we need a better sales pitch—an event to sell. How about if we hold a benefit hockey game in our new arena during the holiday break in the middle of the season when interest is high? We can feature retired NHL All-Stars and have them play the Andrews Point Academy team to benefit the school.”

“I like it, but how do we make oodles of money off it? We only have so many tickets to sell.”

Glancing at Nash to see what he thinks, his face wears that neutral mask I hate. Unreadable. He’s hiding his thoughts because he’s either undecided or because he doesn’t like my idea. But I have more.

“My vision is that we get the game televised on the NHL network, and we get the players to donate upwards of ten-thousand each, even those who can’t play or aren’t retired. Nash can focus his fundraising outreach around the game rather than just the school. The game will be the focal point for the school’s struggle.”

“I really like it. Brilliant, Kali—and I know you can pull it off.” We both look at Nash.

“What do you think, Nash?” I ask, nervous and anticipating the worst. He’s key to my plan working because the NHL is his wheelhouse. I have no sway there.

“To be honest, I’m not a fan of the idea. NHL players—even the retired ones—are constantly being inundated with demands for their time and money. Without a personal connection like I have, it wouldn’t feel right to impose—”

“Impose? They would be playing a game. Even if you don’t ask for money, surely you could find a dozen guys to ask to play—”

“I don’t like it, but I’ll think about it.” His words have the kind of finality that tells me all his thoughts are going to be negative, but I nod and smile.

“Thank you.”

Nikki gives me a puzzled look and then looks at Nash like she wants to strangle him.

“You realize, Nash,” she says in her school principal voice, “you were brought here to help in large part because of your NHL contacts, right?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He stands. “Right now, I have some prep work for today’s practice. See you ladies later.” He walks out the door in a swift, efficient move without another word or a backward glance, and it hits me that something is wrong.

“Well, this is terrible,” Nikki says.

“No, we’re good. I’ll make contact myself. I’ll use Nash’s name.”

“You sneaky devil.” She grins at me and gives me a high five as we both stand. “I can see your mind spinning.”

I laugh, but I don’t tell her what’s on my mind because it’s all about Nash. Something’s wrong, and I need to find out what it is. Only partly because of our mission.

The other part of the reason… I don’t even want to know.