Page 50
There are so many other things I want to get done before Friday, mainly with the boys. Summer’s almost here, and that means signing them up for activities with their nephews and nieces, for the one month that the day care closes.
Thankfully, I have an assistant now.
HR didn’t have anyone available who already works for the Demons, but they did put me in contact with Ingrid. She was Jim’s assistant for ages before she retired just a few years ago, and with her recommendation, I hired her daughter, Rea. She’s twenty-six, and has already proven to be a godsend—she cleaned up my emails in a couple of hours.
I go up to my office, which she’s taken over for her own.
It might be temporary, but honestly, I hate the thought of sitting behind a desk for any amount of time. I know I’ll have to at some point, but until then, it’s her domain.
“I’m monitoring the response to the announcements, and even a few minutes after, it’s already creating buzz,” she says before I’m even fully through the door, and smirks when her eyes snap up to mine. “Well done.”
I grumble a little, not knowing exactly how to say that while I appreciate her approval, I know I could’ve been better.
A ping from the computer snaps her attention and her smile only grows.
“Nicole just emailed asking for a virtual meeting.”
I groan, long and loud. She’s going to scold me, I already know it.
“Sure, can you set something up for tomorrow? I’m going to be pretty busy on Friday since—”
She waves me off. “I know, your nanny’s starting on Friday. It’s done. Eleven a.m. tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I sigh in relief. “Want something to drink?” I ask, and shrug when she only shakes her head. Then I head over to the wet bar on the far side of the office and get myself a Coke. “Anything else you need me for before I head out to pick up the boys?”
“Beatrice Alton also emailed. She asked about the best time to call you.”
I frown without turning back to Rea. Why didn’t Beatrice just text me?
“Yeah, she should know she can text anytime.” I manage to sound nonchalant, and turn to look at her only when I know my face is completely blank. “Did she say what she wants to discuss?”
“No.” Rea shakes her head without looking away from the monitor. “My guess is that it’s about the boys and the whole guardianship deal and she wants there to be a paper trail.” I nod, even if she doesn’t see, because that makes sense, I suppose. “Or maybe something about Amanda’s trial.”
That has the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.
It could be that the DA finally has dates for our depositions, but it could also be something about the boys’ social worker.
“Well, if she wants a paper trail, then give it to her. Just write back that I’ll contact her in a few minutes.”
“You got it. The reservations for Corinne and Nicole are done. I found them a place nearby that they can continue to rent if they want after the two months you told me to book for them, but I’ve also put together a list of real estate agents for the area or Manhattan. I’m also supposed to ask you if you want to attend any games for the East Conference series or the finals.”
“What?” I ask, totally confused now.
“The commissioner sent a pretty open-ended invite.”
I scowl. I don’t have any good memories of Grant Ellis. He’s handled the outing and coming out of a handful of players in the League quietly and without much fanfare in the last seven years, but I know he’s a homophobe with a PR-focused brain and nothing more.
He liked Jim a lot, if I remember correctly, and he was as angry as Jim when Charlotte Wayne was made head coach of the Chicago Deep, I know that much.
“Decline,” I tell Rae without any further explanation necessary. “Vegas is probably going to win again. I think they’re more determined than Chicago. They’ve had—”
“Tucker,” Rae interrupts, holding up a hand to me, and I wince and force my lips shut.
“Right. Sorry, I know you don’t care about that,” I mumble.
She did only agree to the job if I promised not to force her to partake in “sports-dude rituals,” and that includes discussing hockey, apparently.
I respect it.
