Made To Be Broken - The Boston Hawks Hockey Series

Book 2 – Chapter Six

Brandy’s POV

I hum to myself as I enter through the front doors of the administration building for the Boston Hawks hockey team, my home from home. Waving a greeting to our receptionist, I head toward the communications department, and my office, my mood light, a smile on my lips.

Ever since my meeting with the doctor yesterday, my mind has been swimming with the different options available to me, I read and reread the leaflets until roughly two am when I finally made the decision to try the at home insemination kit with donor sperm.

Now I have a plan, I’m starting to get a little excited, my stomach flutters each time I let myself consider that soon, I might have a baby, MY baby growing inside of me. I know the chance of success on your first time is slim, but just the knowledge that I’ve committed to my dream has made me feel hopeful and who knows, maybe I'll be one of those lucky few who do become pregnant first try, it does happen . . . sometimes.

My good mood fizzles and dies as soon as I step into the main area of my team, finding everyone talking around the cubicles in hushed voices, some staring at cell phones.

‘Brandy! Thank f***k’ a male voice growls from my right and I turn just as one of the guys from the PR department storms up to me, his own cell gripped tightly in his hand, and starts waving it at me.

‘It’s a s.hit show, they’ve royally f.ucked up this time, there is no way for me to spin this positively’ he snaps bitterly, waving the cell at me.

Snatching it out of his hand, I focus on the screen, my blood heating at the photo splashed across the website of one of the trashy mags that follow the sports teams.

‘Grimfield’ I growl angrily, scanning the screen, the photo becoming worse and worse with each passing second. A woman, barely legal by the looks of it is sprawled across the top of a bar in her bra and a skirt so short it covers nothing. Her back is arched like a p**n star as Kane Grimfield’s tongue laps some soft of drink from her navel. To make matters worse, one hand is up her skirt, the other groping her breast.

I scroll the screenshot to the next, where Dalton is on his knees between a girl’s legs, I doubt doing what it looks like he’s doing but that doesn’t matter to the public.

A third photo, then a forth, each one with two of our star players making themselves and the team look terrible.

‘What the f***k Brandy’ Maurice, the man in front of me hisses, ‘how the f***k do we make this go away? These are not the only photos that are out there, there is loads! Trevor is f.ucking screaming and he’s demanding we fix it, but none of us have a clue how!’

I roll my eyes at the mention of the PR manager, Trevor McCade, the fifty something asswipe who thinks he’s God’s gift and that women are beneath him. He tried his misogynistic b.ullshit with me when I started, I shut that down sharp and now he avoids me.

‘Does Trevor know you’ve come to me?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow at the younger man who grimaces, telling me immediately what the answer is.

‘No’ he mutters, ‘but Brandy, we’re dying here! I don’t think an apology and a press release about their stats are going to make this better. We need some serious damage control, they’re alluding to the girls being underage, we’ve checked, they are legal but f***k me, only just! The news outlets are going crazy with this, it is everywhere! They’re calling them the predators of the Boston Hawks.’

Maurice looks about ready to breakdown as I hand his phone back, ‘we can’t undo the photos’ I tell him firmly, ‘but we can make them yesterday’s news. What we need is some good publicity for both of them, they need to be kissing f.ucking babies, building wells in third world countries, anything that makes this look more like saints who had a one time lack of judgement rather than who they really f.ucking are. . . . a pair of imbeciles who should be kicked from the f.ucking team.’

Maurice nods, starting to tap furiously on his cell, ‘OK, OK, yeah, we can do that . . ‘ he glances up at me hopefully, ‘do you have anything going on that we could use them for?’

I roll my eyes but nod, ‘I’ll make some calls, I might be able to pull a couple of volunteer jobs together for them to take part in.’ I narrow my eyes firmly, ‘it won’t be cushy stuff Maurice, no visiting sick kids in hospitals or having a group of underprivileged kindergarteners coming to shoot goals. This is a s.hit show of mammoth proportions, so those two are going to have to get dirty to dig their way out of it. If you want my help with this, you better tell them both that what I say goes.’

The assistant nods quickly, ‘yeah I get it, we’ll make sure that they both know that they’ve got to do what you tell them.’ He gives me a grateful smile, ‘thanks Brandy, seriously’ he mutters, ‘I appreciate anything you can do.’

I nod smiling back, ‘no problem Maurice’ I reply, ‘now go back to Trevor and pitch this like it’s your own idea so he can take it to the top brass and take all the credit for doing nothing . . . again.’

Maurice laughs, nodding as he turns away and hurries back to his own department. Making my way to my office, I step inside, heading for my desk, and sinking down into my chair, blowing out a breath.

F.ucking Kane Grimfield, somebody needs to reign him in for the good of the team and himself.