Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I freeze. If I announce myself, Sharp will rope me into a bullshit task. But if I stay quiet, Darcy might get in trouble for leaving her post.
Before I can decide what to do, he returns to his call. “Okay, I gotta talk fast. The Merritt deal isn’t signed yet. He’s dragging his feet, because Montreal is showing him fuck me eyes. And I can’t afford to sweeten again—not if I want to manage the budget, yeah? But don’t panic—I got a sweet little trick up my sleeve. Won’t cost us a penny in salary cap. Dude is definitely coming back.”
A sweet little trick?
“Everything okay?” Darcy whispers, appearing beside me.
“Uh, yup!” I spring out of her chair. Then I thrust my report in her direction. “Do you mind giving these to him? I don’t feel like waiting.”
“Sure!” She takes the folder. “Coffee later?”
“You bet!” I say, already backing away from the desk. My mind is racing with what I just heard.
A sweet little trick. Knowing Sharp, it’s something evil.
I spend the rest of the day—including during the four p.m. game—worrying about what I overheard. Even while Darcy and I cheer from the hotel lounge, with its giant TV screen and tasty snacks, I feel anxious.
The problem is that I don’t really know much about player contracts. There are various ways to entice players to sign, like no-trade clauses and bonus money. So it’s possible that Sharp’s “sweet little trick” is something normal and not at all shady. Maybe I’m overreacting.
When the players return to the hotel, it’s only eight p.m. I can’t wait to show Chase the purchases I’ve made with Veena’s costume budget.
I hope he doesn’t hate them all on sight.
Zoe: Tell me when the coast is clear so I can come upstairs.
Chase: Why aren’t you here already? Checking out the room service menu now.
Of course he is.
Five minutes later, I ride the elevator up to the tenth floor. When the doors part, I step out and look in both directions.
Phew. No hockey players.
I start down the long hallway, but then a door opens and DeLuca steps out. “Hey, Zoe! What’s shaking?”
“I’m…” A terrible liar. “Looking for the ice machine?”
He smirks. Then he looks me up and down, taking in my gym bag. “That so? Where’s your ice bucket?”
“Um… I don’t need ice yet, but I might later.”
He just laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “Tell Chase he owes me fifty bucks from poker night, okay?”
“If I see him,” I agree, and he walks off shaking his head.
Great. If Sharp doesn’t give me a contract, I can only blame myself. I obviously have the poker face of a Doberman watching someone unwrap a sandwich.
I knock on 1010, and Chase opens the door immediately. “Why, look who it is!”
You’d think I’d be used to seeing him by now, but I light up inside every time. “Hi, handsome.”
He winks. “Bess is here,” he says as he ushers me in.
“Oh.” Oops. I give her a quick wave. “Hey, Bess. I was just stopping by with, um, some costume choices. Should I come back later?”
She rolls her eyes in much the same way that DeLuca did a minute ago. “Sure, buddy. If you want. But if you’re trying to keep your thing with Chase a secret, better ask him to tone down the joy a little. Anyone can track to the hour when you guys started dating again. Anyone with eyes.”
I sigh.
Chase shrugs, then kisses me on the cheekbone. “Sit down. Bess was just telling me about Sharp’s latest offer.”
I tense immediately. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not bad,” she says thoughtfully. “But I thought he would’ve come up more than this already. And I’m starting to think this might be his real price point.”
Chase rubs his chin. “We know of at least two other players in negotiations. And it’s a zero-sum game. Any dollar he gives me, he can’t spend on someone else.”
“He should spend them all on you,” I say grumpily.
Bess grins. “Agreed, except we don’t want Merritt out there playing the whole game by himself. So he’ll have to think hard about what he wants.” She gets up and squeezes him on the shoulder. “Money. Lifestyle. Stability. You mull it over, and it probably makes sense to see what Montreal offers this summer.”
“Got it, Bess,” he says, not looking too worried. “Now let’s see these costumes.”
“Ooh, text me with the winner?” she says. “I’m on my way out to dinner with one of my Vancouver clients, where I will casually suggest that trash-talking referees on Xitter is not a great life strategy.”
“Ouch.” Chase winces. “Bye, Bessie!”
“Bye, kids! Make good choices!”
The moment the door closes on Bess, Chase tackles me to the bed, and I let out a little shriek. “God, warn a girl.”
“But I missed you!” he says, kissing my neck. “Did you see me eat it in the third period?”