Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
But she’s British so everything sounds lovely coming out of her mouth.
I turn around to face Zaire. Her parents named her after where they’re from, and she looks like a woman who can pull off being named after a country. She’s statuesque and strong, with elegant box braids. I put on my best roll-with-it face and head to the general manager’s office with her. Along the way, she lowers her voice. “I need to warn you—Clementine is going to want a yes.”
Yes. There’s that word again. But the context feels ominous. “For what?” I ask, trying to mask my worry.
“A project that should be perfect for you.”
Why do I feel it won’t be?
We enter Clementine’s immaculate office. Her black lacquer desk is so shiny, she can touch up her makeup in its reflection, and she is dusting more blush onto her porcelain cheekbones as we enter.
She looks up and sets down the brush. “Good to see you, Everly. How are you doing these days?”
She asks that of everyone, but I’ve learned it’s best to never truly answer with anything but “great.” For all the talk about employee mental health these days, the mental health most companies want is theirs—that you’re not going to sue them. And I’m not, so it’s true enough when I say, “Great.”
“And has Zaire informed you about the promotion you’re up for?”
I do my best not to smile. Clementine might perceive it as a sign of weakness. “Yes, she has. I am excited about the possibility.”
“Good. I’d love to have a healthy competition for the Director of PR job.”
Not me. I just want the job, not to fight for it. It’d be a step up from manager, my current post—more pay, better benefits, a chance to grow…“I’m ready for it,” I say, since my job is to spin things.
Zaire clears her throat and says, “As I was telling you, Clementine, Everly has increased our social media engagement by fifty-two percent in the last year, which has led to a thirty-nine percent increase in jersey sales coming from our social channels.”
Clementine barely cracks a smile as she looks at me. “Which is why we have a wonderful opportunity that will help you show exactly what you can do for the team,” she says in her cool British voice.
“I’m up for anything. I’m currently assembling fun facts from all the players,” I say as if that proves my mettle.
Clementine shoots me a curious look but it’s one that says don’t bother me with the details when she waves her hand dismissively. “Then this shouldn’t be a problem.” She leans back in her white faux leather chair. “We have an opportunity for one of our players to be featured in The Ice Men.”
I sit up straighter. “The Webflix documentary?” I squeak out, then quickly correct to, “The Webflix documentary. I love that show.”
“Yes. Team bank accounts do too,” she says.
The top-rated sports documentary premiered last year and airs about six episodes a season. Each hour-long episode follows one player around for several weeks with behind-the-scenes access to him. The ratings for the show are off the charts, and the subsequent viewership for teams’ broadcasts have shot up when their players are featured. I’ve pitched Webflix a few times on featuring one of our players, but I’ve never heard back.
“That’s exciting. Is it Christian? Chase? Asher?” I ask. “Those guys would be great choices with their charm and stats.”
Clementine laughs, then shakes her head. “Darling. I wish it were that easy. It’s Max Lambert. And we need you to whip him into shape before the shoot begins in January.”
My face falls. I can’t even fashion a cheery publicist face right now. “You do?” I gulp.
“He’s like a diamond in the rough, isn’t he?” Zaire says with a grin.
“More like a piece of coal,” I mutter, and oh, shit. Am I getting myself fired for that?
But Clementine is laughing, for the first time ever. “He truly is, darling. And you’ll have your work cut out for you to make him likable. But the thing is—we want this. Badly. He has the stats. He certainly has an interesting reputation. Webflix wants the league’s best players for The Ice Men, and Lambert is indisputably one of the top goalies. I’ve heard what this kind of exposure has done for other teams. My friends in Calgary, Boston, and Miami have all been bragging about the revenue it brings in,” she says, dollar signs flickering in her eyes, and lust in her voice. That’s the magic word—revenue. This opportunity will bring attention and money to the team. “We need this to go smoothly. And you, my dear, are a wunderkind.”
As much as I want to relish in the compliment, I’m fighting off a grimace. This is an impossible mission. I can’t give Max Lambert an image makeover. Especially in less than three months. He hates everything. “I can’t wait,” I say, as if I mean it.