But Mr. Tremblay stopped in the doorway again. “Listen. Lance. Youneedto answer Kip Sterling's phone calls. No matter the circumstances, you can't ignore him. I don't care if youdohave a pretty young lady in your room—”
Paige quietly groaned.
“—that was part of the agreement, that you are always accessible to Sterling Image.”
Lance nodded impatiently. “Alright. I got ya. I'll talk to him in a few.”
Lance tried to push Mr. Tremblay through the door, but again the older man resisted. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and thrust it in Lance's face, a video queued up and ready to play.
“Whileyou'reignoring your PR reps, who are desperately trying to help you,thisis what's making the rounds on social media, Lance.”
It was a cell phone recording from Zickell's. As luck would have it, the recording missed the first punch thrown—when Lance was brutally sucker punched right on the eye. Instead, the video seemed to depict a drunk and belligerent Lance suddenly swinging on some poor, innocent soul, who went sprawling backwards. A melee broke out, and Lance aggressively fought his way through the crowd.
Lance groaned. “That's a bad look.”
“Which is why you need to talk to Kip Sterling. Immediately.” Mr. Tremblay checked his watch. “So get dressed and say goodbye to your girlfriend. I want you in my room intwo minutes. We're already pressed for time tonight. But first things first, we need to have an emergency conference call with Kip. Two minutes, Lance, don't be late.”
Lance didn't have a choice. “Okay. Got it.”
Mr. Tremblay stormed off.
Lance locked the door after him and rested his head against the door. “Damn.”
“Two minutes?” Paige mewled. “That's it?”
“I'm so sorry, Paige,” Lance said with a sigh as he raced to throw on his clothes.
“But … that's not enough time …”
“I know.” Lance took a few precious seconds to sit on the bed and gently stroke her cheek. “Ugh,I want you so bad. I'd give anything to stay here with you.” But he popped off the bed, hurriedly buttoning his Oxford and tucking the shirt into his trousers. “I'm gonna have the worst case of blue-balls the whole flight to Florida. Fuck.”
“But Lance—I have something important to tell you … it can't wait.”
He threw the rest of his clothes into his small bag and zipped it shut. “I'm sorry. I really am. I've gotta go. Believe me, Idowant to see more of you.” He tossed his cell phone onto the mattress. “Here. Put your number in. Let's keep in touch.”
Paige exhaled and reluctantly tapped in her phone number. When it was done, she slammed the phone back on the bed. The girl was upset. Lance couldn't blame her.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and sat on the bed one last time. He wrapped one arm around her with a half-hug. “I know you're mad, Paige, but this is out of my control. Trust me, this is thelastthing I wanted right now. The team's been up my ass about this PR stuff … I can explain it all later.”
She folded her arms doubtfully. “Really? When?”
“After this game in Florida, we're heading back home to Boston. You should come stay with me! I've got a sweet condo—you'll love it. I'll show you around the city. You don't have to worry about buying plane tickets or anything. I'll pay for it all.”
She huffed. “I—I can't do that, Lance. I've got a job. I've got responsibilities,peopleto take care of! I can't just leave everything at the drop of a hat …”
“So ask for some time off. They'll give it to you. I'd love to show you around.” He gave a sneaky smile. “Plus, just think of it—the two of us, all alone in my condo all weekend?”
Paige didn't reply. Lance wasn't sure why she looked so lost.
“Alright. I've really gotta go. Give me a kiss.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, but she didn't kiss him with much meaning. “I'll see you later, okay? Bye.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Lance opened the door, but turned back one last time. “Don't feel like you're in a rush to leave, by the way. Hell, you could spend the night in here if you wanted. Technically, the room's mine until tomorrow morning.”
“I can't do that. And I can't come to Boston either.”
“Why not?” Lance asked as he checked his watch. His two minutes were up, and his whole body anxiously jittered and leaned for the exit, as if some nervous force was pulling him out the door. He needed to get goingnow—Mr. Tremblay would kill him if he was late.
