If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

I grab my phone from my dresser as I roll out of bed and pad to my bathroom. I have five missed calls from Shilpa and one text message.

I sincerely hope things didn’t happen last night that will make my job harder. Flip hasn’t been as bad lately, but he still falls off the be-a-good-boy-and-don’t-broadcast-your-extracurriculars-to-the-whole-world wagon on occasion.

I dial her immediately.

“What the fuck is going on?” Shilpa demands.

“I don’t know. I just woke up. Did one of the boys do something stupid?”

Silence follows.

“Shilps?”

“Look at Dallas’s socials.”

“What? Why?”

“Just look, and then we will discuss this,” she replies.

I quickly pull him up, expecting that he was out with Flip or something after we parted ways last night. He wasn’t sober when I left him with an entire bottle of prosecco.

My heart stops when I see his most recent post. Because it’s so much worse than him making out with some random woman.

His arms are wrapped around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder, the widest, prettiest smile lighting up his face. His freaking boner was nudging me in the back. He’d said something ridiculous, and for a second, I’d smiled. For one freaking second. We both look deliriously happy.

But the caption he’s paired it with is the worst part. In all caps. WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.

“Oh my God. What was he thinking?” My phone dings with a new email.

“Is this real, Hemi?” Shilpa asks.

“What do you think?” I open the message, and my already-roiling stomach sinks. “Head office wants to see me this morning.”

“What time?”

“In two hours.”

“I’m coming over. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Should I respond to the email?” My entire body has gone numb. I have no idea what’s going on. Is this some kind of sick joke?

“Keep it simple and say you’ll be there. If anyone else messages, ignore them. If it were me, I would put nothing in writing.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Shilps, am I going to lose my job?” This makes it look like Dallas and I willfully went against the team’s no-fraternization policy. And in a very in-your-face kind of way. While it’s not impossible for relationships between people in-house to be sanctioned, there’s a very clear process to follow, which includes paperwork and meetings with the head office prior to great public pronouncements.

“Not if I can help it. Try not to panic. I’ll be there soon.”

Shilpa ends the call, and I get dressed in a rush.

My roommate’s door stays closed, which isn’t a surprise. She works the night shift at a call center, and we rarely see each other. It works for both of us.

My head is spinning, and my stomach is in knots.

Shilpa arrives eighteen minutes later with two coffees in hand. She’s dressed for work, her long, dark hair pulled up in an intricate bun, her makeup on point. I, on the other hand, am the conductor of the hot mess express.

She purses her lips. “Real or not real?”

“Not real.”

“What happened yesterday to prompt this post from Dallas?” Shilpa hands me a takeout cup that I gladly accept.

Going into a meeting with the head office uncaffeinated seems like a bad idea.

Dealing with drama is part of my job as director of public relations for the Terror. These boys are fueled by testosterone, and sometimes they think with their dicks instead of their heads. So I handle it. I smooth it out. I help the guys make better career and personal life choices when I can. But I am not the reason for drama. So I’m at a complete loss as to what to do.

If any other player announced something like this on social media before bringing it to me and Shilpa, I would tear them a new one. I’ll probably still tear Dallas a new one. But it’s not just him on the line here; it’s me, too.

I realize Shilpa has asked me a question, and I haven’t answered.

She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hemi, I am here first and foremost as your friend. But this is a direct violation of the team’s policy.”

“I know.” The numbness is wearing off, and in its place is real panic. And fear. And anger at Dallas.

“There are channels we need to go through. We just did this for Hollis and Hammer,” she says gently.

“I know this too.”

“Management will want an explanation. Do you have one?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea what he was thinking, or why he believed it was a good idea to post that. He knows the rules.” I swallow bile. “We’re so screwed.”

“I just don’t understand why he did it.” Shilpa blows out a breath. “Have you spoken to him this morning?”

“No. You’re the only person I called.”

“He’s not an inherently malicious person, so understanding why could be helpful,” Shilpa says. I put my phone on speaker and dial his number, but it goes to voicemail. “Dallas, it’s Hemi. You need to call me as soon as you get this.”

Shilpa raises a finger. “Hi, Dallas. It’s Shilpa. Speaking as the team lawyer, check your email. And please, whatever you do, do not delete that social media post. Call me or Hemi when you get this message. Call only.”

“What she said.” I hang up. “What am I going to do, Shilps? He’s put me in an impossible position. How bad will I look if we have to put out a public statement saying Dallas was joking?” Just kidding. I know the answer. I can’t go to my high school reunion if that happens. I rub my temples. The humiliation would be too much.

The buzzer sounds, signaling someone at the door. I set my coffee on the side table and hop off the couch, rushing to answer. A minute later a flower delivery guy hands me an ostentatiously large bouquet of peach-colored roses. I tip him and set it on the counter.

I pluck the card from the bouquet and flip it over.

Shilpa reads over my shoulder.

“I don’t even know what to say about this.” And since when did he shift from Willy to Wills?

“Logically, you have two options. One, you tell the head office this picture was taken out of context and that you and Dallas are not involved, and he did this without your knowledge or consent.”

“And he gets fined then traded.”

Shilpa nods. “They won’t give him a pass. Not when he didn’t have your permission to do this.”

“Which will negatively impact the entire team. Even if I’m the one in the right, the consequences of that will have a huge ripple effect. It’ll stain both of our careers.” Do I hate him for all the stupidity he and his friends put me through as kids? Absolutely. But being a jerk our whole childhood and ruining my prom is not the same as screwing over the entire team. They’re like family, to me and to each other. And Dallas…he’s beloved.

I’ll never live it down. I’ll have to leave Toronto and the Terror. I won’t have Shilpa or the Badass Babe Brigade anymore. This is the first time in my life that I’ve really felt like I fit somewhere outside of my immediate family. Sure, there are a few people in the office who aren’t my biggest fans, but I’m used to that. I don’t want to lose everything else.

“Option number two, you play along. Dallas is your date for the reunion, and he owes you for saving his ass for the rest of his life.”

“And if I go with option two, how do I spin it?” I wring my hands. I can’t believe I’m considering this.

“You say you’ve been trying to stay on the right side of the line, but you’ve been spending a lot of time together, which is true. Dallas is involved in a lot of charity stuff, and you always go with him. You never send Hammer,” Shilpa says.

“Because he’s chronically late! And he needs managing.” I sound defensive.

“Either way, he has promo stuff, and you always attend it. You spend an extraordinary amount of time together, so selling that you unwittingly developed feelings for each other should not be that difficult.”

“But I loathe him.”

“Hmm… Well, there’s a fine line between love and hate, so we can sell them on you crossing that line, and for at least the next few weeks, you need to flip the hate coin and turn it into love.”

I rub my temples. “This is a nightmare.”

“It could be. But the only way this works is if you sell it and then live it, at least until you’re through the reunion.”

“Which means I have to lie to the girls, and the rest of the team, and my family.”

Shilpa nods. “It’s too risky otherwise.”

She’s right. No one else can know besides Shilpa and Ash. If the truth came out, it could be detrimental to Dallas’s place on the team and both of our careers. “It’s less than a month away. I can do anything for a few weeks.” It comes out more like a question than an answer.

She points to my bedroom. “Now, let’s dress you for maximum badassery. We have a head office to sell on your new boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend.”

“Not for the next several weeks.”