Power Play (A Blades Hockey Novella Book 1) by Maria Luis

Author:Maria Luis [Luis, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alkmini Books, LLC
Published: 2017-04-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“What do you mean, ‘it’s lackluster’?” I demand on Monday afternoon, four days after my shit-tastic dart game with Duke.

Josh makes a show of perusing the printed copy of my article, flipping through the pages way too dramatically for my tastes. He tosses the stapled stack onto my desk. “It’s no good, Denton.”

My hands fly to the pages. Red ink mars the entire copy. “Can you tell me why it’s no good?”

Josh readjusts his Red Sox baseball hat. “It’s got no pizazz. No life. I could have been reading about root canals I was so enthralled.”

What is it with this guy and the dentist? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I have bigger fish to fry. You know, like possibly losing my job.

“What sort of ‘pizazz’ are you looking for?” I throw in finger quotations because, what the heck. I’m four days away from being demoted to Josh’s secretary-in-training anyway. Just the thought of having to sit in his office all day sends dread trickling down my spine.

I plow forward. “Not only did I speak to him personally, but I attended a game, on his dime. I spoke to his teammates”—okay, one teammate whom I’d stalked all weekend on Twitter—“and I’m telling you, that article right there has more information on Duke Harrison than any other publication has put out since he last won the Stanley Cup three years ago.”

Josh doesn’t bother correcting me on any of that. He simply flicks up the brim of his hat, drags his coffee mug off my desk, and slurps the liquid down. Gross.

“It’s bland, Denton. B-l-a-n-d.”

“I know how to spell,” I mutter, wishing I could slam my office door in his face. With my luck, the damn thing would probably fall off the frame. “I took up Hooked on Phonics at least fifteen years ago.”

He doesn’t laugh at my feeble attempt at humor. “You spent two-thousand words praising him in that article, Charlie. Two-thousand.” Pointing at the discarded papers on my desk, he adds, “That’s two-thousand words too much for a player whose good days on the ice are solidly behind him.”

I don’t like where this is going. Softly, I ask, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that The Cambridge Tribune needs ratings, Denton. We need to spark a fire, cause a stir. We’re being left in the goddamn dust right now and I can’t let that happen.”

Yeah, I really don’t like where this is going. Not to mention the fact that The Tribune has always been in the dust. This isn’t anything new. There are no phoenixes waiting for a cyclical rebirth from the ashes at this company.

Fisting my hands against my thighs, I mutter, “You want me to turn this article into a tabloid spread.”

Josh jerks his head in a barely-there nod. “I want you to turn that article into something that’s gonna catch fire and put The Tribune on the map.”

Whatever I feel for Duke has no play in this. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like paparazzi fodder. Sure, I may

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