Forever Pucked (18 page)

“You didn’t even ask her about Alex.”

“How
is
Alex? I’ve been watching all the news and stuff, but some of that is probably skewed, right? He’s not really out for the rest of the season.” His voice rises instead of lowers at the last question.

I should’ve known I would get this, but it still throws me. Alex hasn’t done any interviews yet. He wants to wait until his face isn’t quite so banged up.

I don’t get to answer because Mr. Stroker’s bald head appears at the top of my cubicle wall. “Violet, can I see you in my office?”

“Of course, Mr. Stroker.” Charlene and Jimmy get out of the way so I can follow him to his huge, comfy office at the far end of the hall.

He gestures to one of the plush chairs, where I sit. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he takes the one across from me and steeples his hands. “I’m not going to ask you how you are, because I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”

“I appreciate that.” I’m not thinking it requires more of a response.

“Are you sure you want to present to the Darcys today?”

“I’m sure.”

“You know it’s just a formality at this point. They’re very much set on having you manage the accounts.”

“Well, that’s good to know, but I think it’s best for me to present. It’s an experience I don’t have yet.”

“You have lots of experience presenting, Violet. You do it every week at our meetings.”

“This is different.” I tap the arm of the chair with my nails. They need to be redone in the worst way. I had to touch up all the chips last night before I went to bed so I didn’t have cheap-hooker hands today.

Mr. Stroker regards me for what seems like forever, but is most likely only about ten seconds. Still, it’s a long time since I’m trying not to fidget, or get emotional. And my stomach is not happy.

He slaps his hand on the arm of the chair, startling me. “Okay then, meet me in the conference room in five minutes, and we’ll have a quick brief before they show up. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” This is what I need. Business as usual. A reminder of why I want to be here, doing this job I don’t actually need.

I head back to my cubicle with purpose, a smile plastered over my cheeks. Gathering up my notes, I check my face in the little mirror beside my computer. I look tired but otherwise okay, and go directly to the conference room to set up.

I’ve got my PowerPoint ready by the time Mr. Stroker arrives. It’s already twenty to ten. The Darcys will be here soon. Stroker and I have been over the whole proposal already—not face-to-face, but through email—so I’m feeling okay about it.

This isn’t a social visit, so I’m less nervous than I would be at, say, a work function, or my own engagement party. Which the Darcys attended and witnessed my hives outbreak. It hasn’t deterred them so far, so I guess it couldn’t have been as bad as I’m remembering it.

I click through the slides and give Mr. Stroker a brief overview. I have three left to go when we get the call letting us know they’re here.

“It’s game time,” Mr. Stroker says.

I meet the Darcys in the waiting room. Bunny folds me into a tight hug. Her boobs are hard and unyielding. I’m now certain they’re not real. Or her bra is made of steel. I can feel her nose against my neck. When she pulls back, she gives me one of those sympathy smiles. It’s not really a smile, but it’s not really a frown. It’s more like a frile, or a smown. She’s definitely had some surgery on her face, as her eyebrows don’t move at all when her expression changes. It’s a little unnerving.

“How are you? How’s Alex?”

“He’s okay. The doctors have him resting, and you know how that is.” God, I sound like a wife. A hockey wife.

Bunny gives me a knowing smile and winks, but her eye only closes halfway. “These boys are so hard to keep down, aren’t they?”

“They sure are.”

I left him tenting the sheets this morning in his sleep. But I don’t think that’s what she means, or maybe it is.

I expect Mitch to shake my hand, but he comes in for a solid hug. “He’ll be fine; don’t you worry.”

I’ve heard that line enough times to make me want to dick-punch someone. Or multiple someones. I know it’s meant to be encouraging, but honestly, this isn’t a bounce-right-back kind of injury, so the
fine
part seems like it’s going to take a long-ass time to get to.

I redirect the conversation away from Alex, because talking about him makes me feel guilty for not being home.

The proposal is seamless until I get to the second-to-last slide. When I click to it, the screen fills with a picture of me and Alex from the night we met. We’re mouth-fucking—like, hardcore. The letters D-T-F spin onto the screen below my tongue sliding into his mouth. Mitch clears his throat. Bunny giggles.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. That isn’t part of my proposal. I mean, obviously watching me and Alex mouth-fuck has nothing to do with managing your financial portfolio. I don’t—” I choke on the words as I move to the next slide, hoping to get rid of the horribly inappropriate image. But another slide of Alex and me making out pops up. I hit the back button, revisiting the previous mouth-fuck before I finally get to one that isn’t embarrassing.

“I apologize,” Mr. Stroker says.

I can feel the tears. They’re so close to spilling over. I don’t want to look at him, because I can hear how angry he is. I’ve blown it. I don’t know how those pictures ended up in my proposal, but I’ve lost the account for sure now, and possibly my job. This is the worst week ever.

“Violet has some colleagues who like to play practical jokes. Unfortunately, their timing on this one is poor.” He hits the button on the phone beside him. Edna, his personal secretary, answers in a chipper voice. “What can I do for you, Mr. Stroker?”

“Have Jimmy and Dean from accounting come to conference room B, please.”

“Of course.”

“What’re you doing?” I whisper—not like it matters, the Darcys can still hear me.

“They need to apologize.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not. But it’s not like everyone hasn’t already seen those pictures. They were everywhere for a while. And Alex and I have been caught doing worse.” I wish I could stop my mouth from opening and spewing out words.

“Like in the locker room.” Bunny winks at me. “Mitch told me all about that!”

Jesus.
Could this get any more embarrassing?

Stroker’s eyebrows rise, wrinkling his forehead. I try not to react, but I can feel the heat in my face.

“We don’t need to see anything else, Violet,” Mitch says. “Bunny has done her research on you, and we know you’ll do an excellent job handling us.”

My mind is stuck somewhere in the gutter thanks to the mouth-fuck pictures because when Mitch says “handling us” I think he means his junk, not his financial portfolio. Thankfully, a knock on the door prevents me from saying something even more embarrassing.

Jimmy pops his head in the room. Dean’s right behind him, shoving him forward so he can get in, too. “Hey, Mr. St—” Jimmy stops when he sees the Darcys, and his perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot up toward his artfully styled hair.

“Oooohhhh…” Dean lifts his hand to his mouth.

I’m fairly certain we’re matching in our horror.

“I assume you know why you’re here.” Mr. Stroker has put on his angry face. It’s super convincing, maybe because he really is upset.

“I think so,” Jimmy says slowly.

In case there was any question, Mr. Stroker cues up the PowerPoint and goes to the incriminating slides. I close my eyes to block out the view of my tongue in Alex’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry. I put the mouth-fucking slides in a while ago and forgot to take them out.” Jimmy cringes when Dean elbows him in the side. “I mean the kissing slides. Violet calls it mouth-fucking, which we think is funny—”

“Shut up,” Dean hisses.

“It’s okay,” I mutter. “Can you just—”

“It’s not okay, Violet. This is unprofessional behavior. What if the Darcys weren’t so understanding?” Mr. Stroker gestures to the massive image on the screen. My tongue is the size of my actual head.

I sink down in my chair, wishing Stroker would take the hint and change the slide. I steal a peek at the Darcys. Mitch’s eyes are darting between my tongue in Alex’s mouth, Jimmy and Dean, and then back to Bunny.

My humiliation knows no end.

I raise my hand. “Mr. Stroker.”

“Yes, Violet.”

“Can we change the slide to something that isn’t me with my tongue in Alex’s mouth, please?”

He glances over. “Oh. Right. I was making a point.”

“I think it’s made.”

“You two, go to my office and wait there. I’ll deal with you when we’re done in here.” Stroker waves them out.

Jimmy and Dean trip over each other to escape. I have no idea what the damn point of that was.

“Well, this has to be the most entertaining financial meeting I’ve ever attended.” Bunny flips her hair over her shoulder and gives me what should be a smile, but her lips hardly move. I wonder what it’s like getting a blow job from her.

We spend the next half hour talking informally, and not about mouth-fucking. As excited as I am, this is a huge responsibility. It also comes with a significant incentive. Big accounts mean more money. I get one percent of whatever I make for the Darcys, and when I’m handling more than thirty million dollars, that adds up. Nothing like what Alex makes, but it’s way more than I’m making now.

Bunny hugs me again on their way out. “When Alex is feeling up to it, let us know and we’ll do dinner. And if you want to get together and have some girl time—you know, facials, Botox, bra shopping, stuff like that—just call!”

“Of course. Thanks so much.” I try not to read anything into it. I’m sure she just wants to be friends. And even if the rumors aren’t a load of BS, Buck said he doubted the Darcys would stick their noodles in the team pool anyway.

“We hockey wives have to stick together.” Bunny winks at me again. Maybe it’s a tic.

She called me a hockey wife. It’s starting to sink in what that really means. It’s more than changing my name from Hall, which makes me sound like the location of a low-budget horror movie, to Waters, which turns it into a sweet romance.

It’s going to mean moving around if Alex changes teams, and possibly more than once when he eventually changes his entire career. He’s already twenty-six. I know the stats on hockey careers and their longevity. It’s my job to know that information so I can help these guys plan for their futures. It’s surreal to think he’s approaching the end of his first career when I’ve barely started mine.

Stroker pats my shoulder once the elevator doors close behind the Darcys. “You did a great job, Violet, even with the tongue pictures.”

“Thanks.”

“You should get some lunch, or maybe go home for the rest of the day. You’re probably exhausted.”

“Are you sure?” I’m totally done. I didn’t realize how much energy this whole office experience was going to take.

“Positive. I know this thing with Alex has been tough on you. That you even came in to do this today is commendable.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and jingles his keys, regarding me carefully. “You know some of our senior team do a lot of their work from home, and based on what you’ve managed to accomplish while you’ve been out of the office—and dealing with everything else—I think that could work for you, if it’s something you’re interested in.”

“Uhh…” This is exactly what Alex has been asking for, which makes me suspicious. “Did Alex call you or something?”

Stroker purses his lips. It makes him look like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Why would Alex call me?”

“I don’t know. No reason.”

“Anyway, you think about it, and we can talk later. I’m going to go deal with Dumb and Dumber.”

“Oh, God, I forgot they were waiting in your office! What are you going to do to them?” I ask.

“Make them review all the files from the Phillips account.”

“There’s a whole room of boxes dedicated to that account.”

Stroker smiles. It’s very Joker-scary. “Exactly.”

“That’ll take weeks.”

“Yup. And they’ll be too busy to play any more juvenile pranks.”

“Good point.”

His creepo smile fades. “All right. You go find Charlene and tell her she can take an extended lunch break with you.” He turns to walk away again.

I suddenly feel like I’m getting special treatment I don’t deserve. “Mr. Stroker?”

“Hmm?” He glances over his shoulder.

“Why are you giving me all these extra privileges?”

He laughs. “You don’t know?”

“Because I’m engaged to Alex and you don’t want to lose his account?”

“You really just say it like it is, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” I can feel the giraffe spots appearing on my neck.

He pulls his keys out of his pocket and twirls them around on his finger. “It’s not Alex’s account I need. It’s
you
.”

“I don’t—what?”

“I’ve been dealing with professional athletes for a long time, Violet. Don’t forget my dad was pro. Being married to one of these guys is a full-time job. You’re brilliant with numbers. I haven’t seen you make a bad decision yet when it comes to managing Miller’s account, or any of the other ones I’ve handed you, so if being flexible buys me more time with you as a member of my team, that’s how I’m going to play it.”

I don’t even know what to say. I mean, I know I’m good at what I do, but coming from Stroker—who is definitely not an
ego
stroker—this means an awful lot. I open my mouth to speak, but all I make is a sound that’s kind of like a whine. I start to tear up.

He waves a hand in my direction. “Okay, you’re gonna get emotional, and that’s not my area. Go find Charlene and have some lunch. We’ll talk next week.”

“Okay,” I choke out as he rushes down the hall, away from my teary reaction to his niceness.

I dab at my eyes with the back of my sleeve and text Charlene, asking her to meet me in the foyer with my coat and purse so I don’t have to deal with anyone else. Less than two minutes later, she comes speedwalking around the corner and almost slams into me.

“How’d it go? Are you crying? What happened?” She jabs the down button on the elevator frantically.