What the Puck!?

Chapter 7: The Indecent Proposal

Zania

I hear my phone ring somewhere in the distance and reluctantly turn to reach for my phone. My body is sore, as if I had a 3-hour session at the gym. Then memories of last night flood my senses, and I shoot up and start to look around the room.

The space beside me is empty. I look around the room for signs of the asshole hockey player, but all I see is the mess he helped me make: condom wrappers on the floor, a knocked-over lamp, and an awkwardly placed tv on the dresser. I think back to him practically throwing me on top of the dresser and the tv almost toppling over as he slammed his d**k into me.

I groan when my phone rings again, and I shift to get out of bed. My v****a feels like I was f****d by a horse. I pause with that thought because I was mildly impressed by Jason’s package. While I’ve seen a big d**k before, his definitely made me take a second look.

My phone is not on the nightstand, and I crawl out of bed, where my feet instantly step onto the wet carpet. I ignore the memories, trying to crawl their way between my legs, and sigh heavily at the memory of my hair getting wet in the shower. As I walk away from the bed, the phone stops ringing but immediately starts again as I approach the living room.

I find the phone resting on the arm of the couch and cringe at the name that appears on the caller's ID: Kyle. It used to say “f*****g Asshole,” but a client saw it once, and I realized that it wouldn’t reflect well on me to have that listed in my phone when he calls as much as he does.

“Where the f**k are you!?” Kyle barks into the phone the moment I accept the call, “And why aren’t you answering the got damn phone?!”

I take a deep breath and catch an unfortunate glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is wild, and hickeys are on my neck, breasts, and further down. It looked like I let a horny teenager and a powerful vacuum attack me.

“Nia! Answer me!” Kyle screams again. I seriously want to reach into the phone and kill him. But only after I torture him first.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I say to Kyle as calmly as I can. I know that this is the wrong response. But at the moment, my brain can barely process what happened to me last night and the strong contrast it has with this contentious phone call.

Silence is on the other side of the phone, and I am waiting for another verbal attack. I am surprised when Kyle responds with equal calm and asks me again where I am and why I was not picking up my phone.

I glare at my reflection in the mirror as though it is Kyle I am looking at. I don’t trust his shift in demeanor. But I will play along for now.

“I am in my hotel room. My phone defaults to DND at night, so I didn’t hear my phone ring initially. Then I couldn’t find my phone,” I rush out as calmly and as quickly as possible, “Is there something we need to discuss before I get ready to head over to the meeting?”

“I thought we discussed the DND. You really need to change that since I clearly need to reach you and as well as your other clients,” Kyle says in a low, threatening tone, “And how do you lose your phone in a hotel room?”

I refuse to engage in this conversation, especially when it is coated in control and accusation. Though this time, the unspoken accusation actually has merit for once. I push forward, ask Kyle again what he is calling for, and remind him that I need to get ready for a meeting and flight home this afternoon.

Once again, I am surprised that he doesn’t push harder. He tells me to call him after the meeting while reminding me that I never called after last night's game. The call disconnects, and I close my eyes, trying to regain my wits about myself.

I look around the room and notice no trace of him around. While not surprised by his absence, in fact, I am grateful to avoid the morning after conversation, I feel slightly off. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like that something feels unsettled in my spirit that he is gone.

When I catch my reflection again, I sigh and realize I have some work to do to look presentable at this meeting. I still can’t believe I let my hair get wet in the shower. As I walk back into the bedroom and start to collect the condom wrappers on the floor, I realize there are not enough wrappers on the ground.

“f**k!” I shout out loud as I hold four wrappers in my hand and head to the bathroom. That asshole really f****d me without a condom. Then I grow angry with myself because I was too swept up in everything that I let him. I make a mental note to schedule a doctor’s appointment and try to suppress the panic that comes with f*****g a professional athlete without a condom, commitment, or sobriety.

I make it to the meeting about 15 minutes ahead of schedule. Fortunately, I didn’t have to bring my luggage up since the car I took to the meeting was also taking me to the airport.

As I wait for Shawn and Tristan to come to the conference room, I find myself Googling Jason. I don’t know why I do it. He was a one-night stand. A man I plan to never see again outside of the internet.

Tristan enters the room, and I quickly lock my phone and place it face down on the table. I look him over, trying to get a read on how much damage Kara has created by sleeping with him. He doesn’t appear as light-hearted as a man who just got laid last night, but he doesn’t give the appearance of someone who woke up to an empty bed and was mad about it, either.

He sits down and starts to arrange some papers on the conference table. Is he avoiding eye contact? Damn it, Kara! I am going to kill her if she hurt this man’s feelings by ditching him this morning. I continue to watch him as he remains focused on the mindless task of moving papers.

“Do you stare that hard at every potential client before a meeting or just the ones who your best friend sleeps with and leaves before the garbage men can even start their day,” Tristan says without looking up. f*****g Kara. As if I don’t have enough to deal with.

“If it makes you feel better, you aren’t the only one who woke up with an empty bed,” I blurt out before my eyes widen. I have no clue why the hell I said that. Tristan looks up at me and smirks. His next words take me aback.

“This will be an interesting meeting,” he says just as Shawn walks into the conference room.

I don’t have time to ask Tristan what he meant and we quickly dive into discussions about the contract. Everything seems to be going smoothly, and I am ready for them to sign on the dotted line when Shawn reveals why this meeting is “interesting.”

“Hodges and Burns tried to secure a contract with us for a while. And clearly they knew what they were doing when they finally sent you our way,” Shawn says, and I can’t help but smile at him.

“There is one thing we want added to the contract before we sign,” Shawn continues and I can see Tristan’s eyes light up despite the neutral setting of his lips. My stomach starts to sour because I feel like Shawn is about to ask me something ridiculous and I will lose this contract.

“We want Jason Roderiguez to sign on with us as a spokesperson and the face of our hockey line,” Shawn says with a massive smile, “And we want you to sign him before we sign the contract.”

Horror must be etched in my face or sickness because Shawn immediately stands up and asks if I am okay. I hear Tristan cough, but from the corner of my eye I know he is trying to cover a laugh. He couldn’t have known about me and Jason. Right?

“Zania?” Shawn says as he waves a hand in my face. I shake my head, trying to refocus. I take a deep breath and tell Shawn, “Spokespeople are usually secured by the company that they will represent, not the advertising firm that will handle the campaigns.”

Shawn just smiles and shakes his head. “I know. But after last night, I just feel that you will be able to convince him to sign with us. We have had a hard time breaking into hockey, and when I saw that Jason kept looking our way, I knew it was because of you.”

Tristan is shaking as he fights for his life to contain the laughter. I want to throttle him.

Shawn once again calls my name, and I look back at him before asking, “So you are trying to pimp me out to secure a name for your hockey gear?”

“Oh my god! No. No. I mean….I was just thinking,” Shawn starts to stumble as his face turns bright red and his eyes fill with panic, “I mean, that sounds horrible. I was just thinking that you could help us, and you can even raise the numbers for what you charge to do it.”

Just then, a woman comes into the conference room for Shawn. He excuses himself, leaving me with a howling Tristan. I glare at him until he composes himself.

“You realize how bad this would look on your part if people knew Douglas Activewear was offering women to athletes in exchange for sponsorship?” I say to him. Tristan looks at me with a raised eyebrow, and to his credit, he doesn’t miss a beat when he responds, “It appears that you already offered yourself.”

I really want to throat-punch him. I need to get out of this room before I do something to further f**k up my career. As I stand up to start packing my stuff, Tristan leans back in his chair and watches me in silence. It is only when I start to round the table that he finally speaks again.

“One day, you and Kara are going to meet your match,” he says, causing me to halt in my tracks.

“What in the hell does that mean?” I say, trying to contain my rage at how sideways this meeting continues. Tristan then stands up, and I take in his full appearance. He has on a tailored burgundy suit showcasing a tall, athletic build. His stance is confident as he places his hands in his pocket, looks down, and chuckles.

“It means that while the rest of the women in that bar were ready to let Jason f**k them in the middle of the crowd, you slapped him and walked away,” Tristan says as his eyes lock on mine, “Kara is the only woman who has ever slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night.”

“What is your point?” I almost growl through clenched teeth, “Because I didn’t suck Jason’s d**k in the middle of the bar, and Kara didn’t wait for you to cook her burnt eggs and toast in the morning, I’m supposed to stand here and listen to this s**t?”

I don’t know what is going on here. Not only had the meeting gone wrong, but I didn’t even know whether there was a chance for the contract to be signed. To make it worse, I was now having some weird hostile exchange because my best friend couldn’t find another d**k to ride last night.

“I like you Zania,” Tristan says with a smirk. What the f**k is wrong with him?

“Glad to hear it. Is there a medication you need to take for this personality switch you got going on?” I say as I start walking to the door. Tristan steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Your contract will eventually get signed. But it will get signed faster if you can get Jason on board,” Tristan says with a straight face. Just when I think he is done, he surprises me again when he says, “I’m Kara’s match, and judging from the way Jason followed you out of the bar and your current frazzled state, I think you may have met your match.”

I can’t help but laugh. This must be a joke. The level of unprofessionalism is through the floor, reaching the bowels of hell. Once the laughter has passed, anger courses through me. The fact that another asshole in a suit thinks he can have any thoughts on my love life and possible career has my blood boiling.

I walk to Tristan and stand as close as possible without touching him. Fortunately, between my height and heels, I am not forced to look up at him and lose power behind my decision to slam a nail into my career-filled coffin. Tristan stares at me with a smugness that I can’t wait to wipe off his face. I decide right then I don’t give a f**k how this blows up in my face.

“You do not know me, but I am starting to know you,” I start, ready for the words to flow out of my mouth like career-ending vomit, “I am the f*****g best. No other firm has gotten this close, and while the New York office failed to hold your attention, Hodges & Burns knew I was the trump card to seal this deal. So I will not sign Jason; you and your awkward brother will do that yourselves. Then you will sign this damn contract and be grateful that my commitment is to my work and not the fleeting interests of athletes or playboy business owners that don’t know how to sleep alone. And for the record, you are hardly Kara’s match.”

“Is that so?” Tristan says through narrowed eyes. But I catch a gleam of something in them that doesn’t fit his expression.

“If I am committed to my work, Kara’s committed to hers in a way that a billionaire is to a wife with no prenup. She has fun, but she always goes back to her work. Plus, I didn’t get her usual next morning breakdown, which makes me think her exit was due to disappointment,” I finish my lashing and immediately walk away.

“Maybe it is mommy issues. Maybe I am just dying to see how this blows up in your face, but there is something about a fierce black woman that does something for me,” Tristan says just as I reach the door. I look over my shoulder, my thoughts shifting between surprise and “What the f**k is happening.”

“I look forward to working with you very soon, and tell Kara I’ll see her tonight,” Tristan says with an annoyingly sexy grin while holding up the contract in his hand. He then walks out the door on the other side of the conference room. At that exact moment, my phone vibrates, and I groan, anticipating it is a text from Kyle.

Text from Kara: “Giiiiiiirl…..I need you to call me ASAP!”

Shit.