“You’ll believe me by March,” he says. “That’s the point.”
She closes her eyes for a moment. Then they fly open again. She stomps toward a console table against the wall. “This must be from my mother?” There’s a gift box with a ribbon tied around it. Heidi checks the card and then tugs violently on the ribbon. “Ah,” she says, opening the lid of the box. “It’s good to know my parents are on the same page.” Heidi lifts something from the box. A scarf? A wrap?
I don’t speak women’s fashion, but it’s diaphanous and beaded.
“This is very useful!” she snaps. “I can wear it over my Ice Girls’ uniform between resurfacings. Or sell it on eBay. Whether or not you know it, I am a very practical girl.” She drops it back into the box and snatches it off the table. “Let’s go, Jason.” She stomps toward the door and opens it almost before I catch on.
Heidi makes it to the elevator before I’m even out the door. But I hesitate anyway, turning to glance at her father on my way out. He’s standing quite still in his living room, looking like a grenade with the pin pulled.
“Look,” I say, and he turns to look at me with angry eyes. “Don’t punish her for spending time with me. She doesn’t deserve that.”
If possible, his jaw gets even harder.
“She works really hard. I just want you to know that. She tackles the jobs you assigned to her, and she has a side hustle to earn more money.” I shake my head, thinking of all the hours Heidi works. “And she’s a good friend. She’s looking after my teammate who just had knee surgery. And she planned a birthday surprise for my roommate. She’s a good worker, and a good person. She’s impressive. If I were you, I’d be proud, not angry.”
He closes his eyes for a brief second, and then turns his back on me.
Having said my piece, I join Heidi at the elevator bank. Her eyes are red, and her shoulders are tight.
When I pull her into my arms, she doesn’t resist.
28
Heidi
“He doubled my jail sentence,” I tell Jana. “I’m having a dying duck fit, here.”
“Deep breaths, Heidi Jo,” my sister says. “Stress wrinkles the face prematurely.”
“I’ll look like a hag by the weekend, then! Why is he doing this to me?”
“Maybe Daddy is having a midlife crisis,” my sister muses. “He snapped at Mama over the weekend, too. Right in the middle of the country club dining room.”
“Oh, Lordy. Did she lose her squash at him later?”
“No idea. I stayed clear of the two of them after brunch. He was giving Mama a hard time over her credit card bill.”
“What a grump.” Although Mama is known for bringing armloads of shopping bags home every week. And she never worked a day in her life.
Unlike me. “If you happened to watch the Brooklyn game on TV last night, you would have seen me skating with the Ice Girls again.”
My sister giggles. “When’s the next home game? I have to see this.”
“Friday.”
“I’m making a note. Is the uniform awful?”
“It’s the worst. Not just because it’s too revealing—it’s cold. And the jerk in charge is always touching us—like he’s at the grocery store trying to choose a good melon.”
“Ew!” Jana shrieks. “I’m surprised you haven’t kneed him in the walnuts already. Our Heidi Jo doesn’t suffer fools. Tell Daddy. He’d hate that.”
“I will not ask Daddy for help.” There’s a better way. “I’m going to write down everything the guy does and report back to the team owner.” In fact, I’m walking into the Brooklyn Bruisers headquarters right now to meet with Rebecca. “He’s going to get an earful from management.”
“That’s showing him,” my sister says. “Now, you hang in there. If you need money, maybe I could give you a loan from my trust fund. The lawyer could help me with that.”
“Wow. That’s generous of you. If I get really desperate, I’ll ask. I’m only halfway to banking the five thousand dollars I need for my own apartment.” I pause in the lobby to finish our conversation.
“What?” she yelps. “Why so much?”
“Everybody wants first and last months’ rent as a deposit. And then there’s the brokers’ fee. And I don’t own a stick of furniture.” Heck—if you add all that up, it’s more than five grand.
“Come home,” Jana suggests. “Find a job in Nashville.”
“I can’t! Because then Daddy wins.” Also, my subconscious has a brand-new problem with that idea. Jason is here in Brooklyn, my heart whispers.
It’s way too soon to plan my life around his. But my subconscious doesn’t know it.
“You hang in there,” Jana says. “Gotta jump! The spa manager is giving me the stink eye for using my phone in here. And it’s time for my full-body facial.”
I let out a little sigh, just picturing it. What I wouldn’t give for a day at the spa right now. “Enjoy!” I tell her. “Toodles!”
After we hang up, I hurry down the shiny hallway floorboards and into the executive suite. But instead of continuing into Rebecca’s office, I skid to a stop right in front of the reception desk where Rebecca used to sit.
There’s someone else sitting at it now. A stranger.
My pulse jumps and not in a good way. I’m staring down at a young woman with a shiny manicure, a crisply tailored suit, and perfect hair. There’s something familiar about her. Oh wait—that’s because she reminds me of me. Last year I was the glowing young intern who always showed up for work after a good night’s sleep and with perfect grooming.
She’s me, only without the exhaustion from a month of petty humiliations. And what the heck is she doing at this desk? “Can I help you?” I ask her.
The girl looks up at me, startled. “I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Again, I’m the one who’s supposed to ask those kinds of—”
“Heidi Jo!” Rebecca interrupts by calling to me from within the owner’s office. “Come right in.”
I give the newcomer a searing look and then march toward Becca’s office. “Hi,” I say stiffly. “Did you already hire someone for—” I jerk my thumb toward the outer office.
“She’s a temp,” Rebecca says kindly. “It’s a rent-to-own situation.”
“But I want a shot at that position.” That’s my job! I want to scream. “How much more experience could she have than me?” My voice gets high and squeaky when I’m upset.
“I understand,” Rebecca says. “Nothing’s been decided. But I can’t leave that desk empty for months. And your father sent me an email demanding that you work through your internship jobs for an additional ten weeks.”
“He’s being irrational,” I argue. “I’ll calm him down and make him understand.”
“Okay. Let me know how that goes.” She gestures towards a chair. “You said you needed to talk about the Ice Girls’ gig?”
“You bet.” I plunk down and face her. “Randy Cavanaugh is—to use a technical term—a dick weasel.”
Rebecca flinches. “I don’t enjoy his company, either. And if his behavior is unprofessional, I’m going to need specifics. Start at the beginning.”
So I do. I give Becca chapter and verse about the tiny uniform and the arctic breeze that turns my toes to popsicles as we greet the fans before the game. “‘Welcome sir! Here is my cleavage for your viewing pleasure. Ignore the blue tint of my skin! Beer is half-priced until warmups begin. Now retrieve your eyes from my ass and have a pleasant day!’”
Becca claps a hand over her mouth and tries to suppress her giggle. “I’m sorry to laugh, but you are a cutup.”
“I don’t see how it’s legal to freeze me.”
“It’s not.” She shakes her head. “There was no reason to change the uniform. Last year they wore long black spandex tights and long-sleeved tops. They were still low cut and bare at the tummy.” Becca rolls her eyes. “But they had to be warmer, more practical.”
“If the team had matching warmup gear, it could still work,” I point out. “But he has us dressed the same as his dance team, even when we’re just standing around shivering.”