The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(5)
“As you know, Michelle, Rochester is a vibrant and diverse community. Not to mention a die-hard hockey town. Murphy’s Finest will add its own unique color to the already rich tapestry of the arena district and will further enhance the fan experience. I for one, am really excited to see it once it’s completed. Sheehan Murphy knows his whiskey. And hockey fans have been known to imbibe a time or two.”
Michelle nodded. “Indeed. That knowledge must extend to hockey operations as well. Owners typically fulfill a governor position, providing oversight to the overall business development of a franchise. Isn’t it a bit unconventional that Mr. Murphy has also assumed the Chief Operating Officer role with the team? How do you feel that will affect the Riot’s playoff hopes? Too many cooks in the kitchen?”
Eloise blinked and held her media face firm. Batiste certainly lived up to her reputation of asking pointed, philosophical questions. But she still liked and respected the journalist as she would any straight shooter.
While Eloise didn’t shy away from debate, she certainly couldn’t air her personal opinions on-air while representing the team. Murphy’s insistence in taking on hockey operations hadn’t met with universal approval but had been part of the ownership deal. As usual, money always won.
“Mr. Murphy is confident he will provide not only the guidance needed from the governor’s chair but sage direction in on-ice matters. We feel we have the best of both worlds.”
Pure. Media. Bullshit.
“Thank you, Eloise. We’ll look forward to the Riot’s playoff run, the grand opening, and to seeing Fiorino in action.”
“Thank you, Michelle.”
“And we’re out,” the tech called.
Eloise let out a long breath. Media appearances were second nature to her, but Michelle’s questions had set her on edge. The months ahead for the Riot would prove ground-testing, to say the least. Which meant she had to bring her A game. A lot of long days and nights lay ahead. Good thing she had zero personal life to speak of at the moment.
After making a follow-up lunch date with Michelle, Eloise drove back to her office inside the Rochester Arena. Best to keep the woman firmly in her friend camp as opposed to adversary. Eloise had gone to the station first thing and knew there would be work piling up on her desk and in her inbox. She hoped a nasty note from Ryder wouldn’t be among them. Because she was already over it. Too many women spend more time analyzing a date than men do thinking at all. Eloise would not stoop to that level.
With relief, she noticed the demonstrators around the construction site had disbanded. She pulled into the underground garage beneath the arena and parked in her designated spot, lucky number thirteen.
She’d barely turned the knob to enter the corporate offices when a whirl of poncho and neck scarf flew at her from inside. “There you are,” the girl wearing them said, her pixie-cut pink hair glowing under the fluorescent office lighting.
“Whoa, take it easy, Kylie,” Eloise laughed as she pushed her way into the room.
Her assistant, Kylie Rose, seemed extra enthusiastic today, and Eloise loved her for her quick wit and vivacity. The pressures of her job didn’t leave a lot of room for personal relationships, and for the last several years, Kylie had filled the role of not only secretary and personal assistant but also friend and confidante.
“Let a girl get a foot in the door, will you?” she chided.
Kylie followed Eloise into her corner office complete with floor to ceiling windows and closed the door behind them.
“Well?” Kylie asked excitedly. “Spill it!”
“Spill what?” Eloise replied innocently, laying her briefcase on her chrome and glass desk. “That my lovely assistant failed to fill me in on our new hero’s unusual nickname?” Where on earth was her coffee? God, she needed to caffeinate herself since she’d been up half the night seething.
Kylie gave her an “oops” look, then plunged into her real line of questioning. “Deets! How was your date with Ryder last night?”
Eloise wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “It wasn’t a date, just dinner. And you don’t want to know.”
And I want to forget. If he didn’t work in this very building, I’d tell you he was an insufferable * that only wanted to get laid.
“I do so!” Kylie insisted, stamping her fuchsia Converse, which she’d probably used to choose her monthly hair color. “Who else can you tell if not me? C’mon, El, you’re killing me here. Did he look extra hot? Did his amazing lips trail kisses all over your body?”
Eloise sat down in her padded chair and rolled her eyes at her bubbly assistant. Kylie took her surname very seriously, ensuring almost everything she owned or touched came in shades of rose, including her brightly-dyed hair.
“Kyles,” she began. “It was a disaster. I should know better than to go out with corporate stiffs, let alone a co-worker. I’m so tired of arrogant, self-serving, bullshit men.” She pointed a finger at Kylie as she chuckled. “In fact, you should have stopped me. What kind of friend are you, letting me fall into that trap?”
“Hey, I’ve got your back, boss lady,” Kylie said in defense. “Ryder’s such a hunk, and you have so much in common. I really thought you two would hit it off, or I would have told you to quit while you were ahead. This sucks.”
Eloise shrugged. “Other than both our dads working in the pipe trades, and both of us working here for The Riot, the commonality ends there.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “He’s a big dumb ex-jock who doesn’t see past his next lay, and it’s not going to be me,” she stated matter-of-factly.