Page 5 of Gross Misconduct

I glanced over at Ethan and his wide eyes were warning me to shut up. “I have no idea what happened. I just figured he’d helped.”

I was sure I’d heard Tangi groan as Jill twisted in her seat to better face me. “Why? Because I’m a woman.”

I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. How had this happened? “No, I wasn’t saying that at all. I figured maybe you used him as a reference and that he said you’d be perfect for the job. Honestly, I have no idea either way.”

“Who wants more to drink?” Ethan asked. “I’m sure we have another bottle of wine somewhere.”

Jill wagged her finger at me. “No. Ethan didn’t get me the job. I got the job all by myself if you can believe it,” she said sarcastically. “I was qualified for the job, and I had excellent job experience. Is that good enough for you?”

This chick had just handed me my balls on a platter. “Yes, totally fine. I’m sorry I said anything.”

“So am I,” Jill said, rolling her eyes.

What followed next was the most uncomfortable silence. Tangi snapped it by getting up and taking the plates away. Jill offered to help her and muttered something abouthoping that no one got the impression she was doing women’s work by helping Tangi put the leftovers away. I wanted out as soon as possible. Once they were safely in the kitchen, I got up.

“I better get out of here before I say anything else stupid.”

“I should have warned you about Jill. She’s tough as nails. I’ve been afraid of her for over ten years.”

I patted Ethan on the back. “Sorry to leave you alone with her, but I’m outta here.”

The guy couldn’t blame me, and as I walked back to my car, my phone pinged with a text. Then another. Then one more. I glanced down, and my stomach did a flip-flop. The texts were from Orla.

Someone sent me these pics. They said they are going to post them online.

I waited for her to upload them, and when she did, I thought I was going to be sick.

Chapter Three

Jill

Jeremy Vaughn was a complete tool, and that was an insult to tools everywhere. I was still thinking about him the next day as I sat through meetings with all the other department heads, followed by another meeting with the PR staff as we arranged promo shots with the players as well as scheduling various promotional videos. Thankfully, I had a team doing that, but I’d be watching to make sure it all looked appropriate. I’d politely let all the player agents know that I wanted the boys to show up looking professional, and that clearly meant not looking like total slobs. While we had a style team ready and waiting, there was no time to cut hair or trim unruly beards.

That had made me think of Jeremy. He’d cut his hair, or so Tangi had told me. Something about knowing he had to look decent in promo shots. It helped when your handsome captain looked like someone you’d want to fuck, not that he interested me in the least. Not after last night and his remark about Ethan getting me the job. I was fairly certain he hadn’t gotten me thejob, at least that’s what Tangi had said, but that had me wondering now, and I hated second-guessing myself.

Jeremy was a tool for making me question my abilities.

After the tedious meetings with the department heads, I went back to my office for a quick lunch while I read over budget reports. Clay wasn’t a tightwad like the higher-ups at Richardson’s, but he did want us to stay within budget, and I needed to know what that budget was and understand the numbers. I had no idea what it took to run a PR team for a professional hockey team, but it had to be less than a multibillion-dollar company.

As I was running the numbers, my phone rang. Hardly anyone called me unless it was Wolseley, Tangi, or my mother… shit. I could let it ring and go to voicemail, but then she’d keep calling every half hour until I answered. I hadn’t spoken to her in months, just the way I liked it, but I had sent her a text to tell her about the new job. Was she now getting around to acknowledging it? The thought of this conversation made my stomach churn. No other person had that effect on me.

After one deep breath, I picked up and said, “Hey, Mom.”

“Oh, I actually got you to answer,” she said, her voice devoid of any warmth.

“I am at work,” I said as pleasantly as possible.

“Do you have time or not?”

I bit my lip and tried not to crush my phone, not that I had the strength to do that. “I have some time. What’s up?”

“I just saw the text you sent me. You know I don’t like texting. You should have picked up the phone to call. Have you already moved to Canada?”

“Yes, a few weeks ago,” I said, rising from my seat and looking out my window. Staring out at the Rockies gave me some serenity.

“You could have called to tell me.”

Not that she would have helped me pack or even driven me to the airport. My mother had always put in the least amount of effort when I grew up. I was her only child after my dad walked out when I was six, and she rarely dated after that, but then she met Rick at a singles’ night when I was seventeen. They fell intolike—a mutual desire for stability and company. Rick had a good job as an ad guy for the big newspaper in the city, and Mom kept her job as an admin assistant at a middle school. They left on vacation every Christmas and summer—without me, just the way Mom wanted. I was an encumbrance that my mother put up with. Rick was more decent and attentive than she’d ever been.