Page 14 of Full Contact

“I went out with the architect again.”

“And?”

“And it was nice. We had a nice dinner. He’s a nice man.” I heard how many times I’d said nice. “Nice doesn’t add up to long-term.”

“Why not?”

“I want more than nice.”

He was interesting, and I liked his company, but during our date, before I’d finished my first glass of wine, I’d wished I were laughing with Dana and Felix at the climbing gym.

Dana opened her mouth. Felix handed her the bread before the words came out.

“Busy tomorrow?” Felix asked.

“I’m pitching a player on a content series about his cat.”

Dana set her glass down. “The wedding cat?”

“Yes, that one.”

“The hot suit man is pitching the wedding cat,” Felix said.

I nodded. “It’s the hot suit man’s job.”

Felix didn’t mention why he asked about tomorrow. Instead, he wanted to know how often we’d film, whether Peaches would come to the arena, and whether he and Dana could meet her. Felix pulled out his phone and showed Dana Peaches’s fan account while I retrieved dessert from the kitchen.

They left a little after ten. I set my alarm, put the phone on my pillow, and switched off the light.

***

The next morning, I worked out my pitch. Trier wasn’t going to sit through twenty slides about his cat. I condensed it all to four.

The first two compared the number of views of the Rook and Varga center-ice kiss with the photograph Rook had posted last winter: Varga asleep on a couch, with Peaches sprawled across his chest.

The kiss had been the most dramatic non-hockey moment in franchise history, and it had run in the news for four days. Then it was back to power play strategy.

People shared the photograph of Varga asleep with Peaches for months.

I checked the figures beneath both images and then moved to slide three. The wedding clip was still climbing. Among the comments about my suit were questions about the harness, whether Peaches liked traveling, and what Trier was like at home.

The front office still remembered the disaster I’d helped create by pairing Rafe with Max, the influencer. Rafe had found happiness with Max’s brother, but that hardly made it a successful PR campaign. The suits wanted wholesome, unfakeable content this season. Whenever either word came up in a meeting, they looked at me.

I sipped my coffee. It had gone cold while I worked. Slide four held details on the proposed series and a simple production calendar.

Before saving, I opened the wedding archive to find a still for the presentation. There was a good one of Heath and Kieran in the yard, surrounded by guests. Somebody had caught Kieran laughing with a hand on Heath’s chest. At the left edge, I stood against the fence line with my hands in my pockets. I checked that everyone in the central group was visible, cropped the frame a little tighter, and moved on.

I was adjusting a line break when Trier appeared in my office doorway.

“Before we start,” Trier said, “is there a helicopter?”

“There’s no helicopter.”

“Cross got a helicopter when you featured his ridiculous house in the ‘burbs.”

“Cross only got four hundred thousand views with the helicopter. Peaches has blown past that.”

He set his duffel beside the chair and sat down. His blue eyes were set deep beneath a strong brow, which gave him a serious look until he smiled. Then the creases at their corners showed.