“Oh.” Adrian feigned excitement. “Great. Good to meet you…” He frowned, attempting to delicately phrase his next question. “So…you’ll be doing the reporting? Personally?”
Magnolia bloomed with pride. “Absolutely. I’ll be covering the ins-and-outs from top-to-bottom, the beginning of this season to the end of the wild ride. My network wants to see all the players, all the drama, all the blood, sweat, and tears.” She winked. “And, hopefully, some wins? You…do think you’ll win some games, don’t you?”
“I’m planning on it.” Adrian hesitated. He respectfully glanced over her figure—more cautiously than actually interested. “And…you will be the sidelines reporter?”
“That’s right. Sidelines. Bench. Locker room interviews. The works.”
His brow crinkled. The worry lines edged a little deeper than before. “With all due respect, Miss Mallory—”
“Mags, please.”
“Mags…have you met the guys on this team?” He snorted. “Do you have any idea what sort of…activities you’ll be covering?”
The iPad was at the ready. Magnolia didn’t miss a beat. Then again, she seemed more than prepared for an interview on the fly. Her hand flew over the screen, though I wasn’t sure how her ring finger kept up, what with the massive fucking diamond weighing it down.
“I understand the Forge seems to be a place for second-chances and…complicated men.” She might’ve stated the obvious, but she did so tactfully. Almost sympathetically. Her style probably endeared her to many players—and the empathy practically busting out of her dress’s low neckline helped too. “It’s difficult to create a brand-new team out of nothing.”
“I’m the sort of man who likes a challenge,” Adrian said.
Magnolia winked at me. Leave it to an investigative reporter to sense the real story.
“I bet,” she said.
“The team’s gonna have some growing pains, but I’ll be there to lead them through the rough spots.”
Magnolia checked over both her shoulder and Adrian’s. The iPad lowered.
“Can we talk off the record?” she asked.
Adrian visibly relaxed. “For Christ’s sake, please.”
Magnolia worked fast, working a scrunchie hidden beneath her sleeve into the thick ebony curls of her hair. She bundled the waves into a messy bun and kept her voice low.
“When I took this assignment, I expected a special interest story. A documentary highlighting the beginning of a brand-new expansion team. Do some interviews, highlight some players.” She gestured toward me. “Maybe talk to a couple girlfriends and families.”
“Oh…” I nervously cleared my throat. “I’m not…we’re not…”
“We’re not together.” Adrian said. “We’re just friends.”
And the finality of his voice struck me like I’d taken a spill on the ice.
My stomach pitted, and I had no idea why. Nothing he’d said was a lie. And we certainly weren’t dating or involved or doing anything more complicated than making a baby together.
But that didn’t make the truth any less…
Tough to hear.
Any less sad.
“Sure—just friends.” Magnolia patronized us with a nod. Her amusement instantly faded as she faced Adrian. “I had planned to come to Ironfield for some footage every week, slap some inspirational music over it, and make a pretty compelling series for the team. Unfortunately, my office in New York has ordered a different direction for my work.”
Adrian shrugged. Magnolia lowered her voice.
“Sports Nation is more interested in the current problems on the team—of which, there are many. Mostly beginning and ending with the more troubled players.” She pulled us deeper into the tunnel, far from the sensitive microphones and equipment in use on the ice. “They’re asking me to report on drama, rumors, and very personal problems. And they want those issues to be shown front and center for the world to judge.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sounds like they want to document the team’s failings.”
“Bingo.” Magnolia arched a meticulously sculpted eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not creating Pulitzer Prize winning material reporting game scores between periods or getting hit on by every Eastern European forward who has learned enough English to call me brown sugar, but…” She nervously rapped her engagement ring against her iPad. “This is not the sort of documentary I think the league needs right now. My network isn’t at all interested in the start-up story of the first expansion team in fifteen years. They only want the drama and troubles of whatever pretty boy decides to break the rules. And, unfortunately for you, Adrian—the network has plenty of material.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
Christ, he was a bad actor. Only this time, he couldn’t blast a puck through any nearby glass to escape.
Magnolia continued, her expression souring. “It’s as if the Forge created this team to fuel Sports Nation’s ratings. Take your pick of the troublemakers on this roster, and I’ll preview how the network is prepared to slander them.”
Adrian shifted his weight. The gloves dropped. Any other person might’ve been intimidated. Magnolia apparently saw this as a sign her message had been received.
“This is an odd sort of interview,” he said.
“It’s not an interview. This is a warning.”
“I don’t think we need any warnings, Miss Mallory.”
“Mags,” she insisted. “Why do you think the Forge drafted Oz Zane to be your goalie?”
He glanced at me. “Because Oz is an excellent goalie.”
“With a loud mouth.”
“The league is plagued with players who take to social media too quickly. It’s a generational thing.”
“It’s a trait the Forge will exploit with Zane. The louder he is, the better.”
Adrian lost patience with the woman. “I think we’re done here.”
“What about Beau Beckett?”
“What about him?”
“He’s a superstar rookie hellbent on ruining his career. He’s got problems with women, alcohol, and partying, mostly when they’re all combined.”
“He’s spirited.”
“He’s a risk to himself and the franchise, and the team knows it.” Magnolia shrugged. “But he’s good looking and cocky, and that combination sells papers and earns ratings.”
“What the hell are you implying?”
“What about Cash Harrington—who, by the grace of God and the commissioner—has managed to remain in the league despite a reputation of violent and dirty, career-ending hits?”
Adrian was quick to defend his good friend. “He’s an excellent defenseman who does his job and does it well.”
Magnolia nodded. “And Felix Ferraro—an otherwise outstanding player who was unprotected by his team due to a growing concern about his locker room rituals and superstitions?”
“Your network wants to run exposés on pre-game routines?”