Mr. Tremblay waved his hand in the air. “Let's keep things professional, Lance, not personal.”
“Agreed.” Kip cleared his throat. “Lance, for your sake, I hope that paternity test shows you what you believe to know in your heart. Unfortunately, as far as the Brawlers are concerned, I'm afraid it doesn't make much of a difference.”
“The hell?”
Kip grabbed a wireless remote and clicked a button. The overhead projector flashed a series of bar graphs and pie charts onto the wall.
“After I first spoke with you about your situation, I immediately ordered several rounds of focus group testing to determine the best path forward.”
“Thank God for your focus groups,” Lance quipped.
Mr. Tremblay butted in. “Lance, please!”
Kip continued. “The result was overwhelming: even if the baby was yours and you welcomed it into your life, the news of a 'secret baby' would have a massively negative impact on your reputation.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Of course it would. Because that's all we care about, right? Our reputations?”
“This doesn't mean you can't have a relationship with the baby or her mother, of course. Our research simply shows that letting the mediaknowthat you were an absentee father for a baby you didn't know about will only do further damage to your image. If the baby is yours, and you wish to keep it in your life, I would suggest a slow trickle of information. No announcements, no press releases.”
“It's no one's business,” Lance said, shaking his head.
“Exactly.”
“No—I mean—look. I don't carewhatthe media says about me. Alright? But I'm not going to hide my life in fear of people finding out about it.”
Mr. Tremblay stiffened. “But, Lance—”
“I know, I know:but what about the captaincy?Look, you know me; you know I've wanted the C since I was a kid. But I'm notperfect, guys. I'm a damned good hockey player. That's what I am. I'm not some polished Hollywood actor, or some silver-tongued politician, or some puppet you can dance around the stage.”
Mr. Tremblay slunk in his chair. “But Lance, I've told you that ownership has concerns about—”
“I hate to say it, Mr. Tremblay, but if ownership doesn't like me for who I am … tough. I'm not going to hidemy family for the sake of our corporate brand. If that means I have to give up the C? Okay. Fine. I don't want it. What kind of pushover would I be to put the team before my own family, anyway? Give the C to somebody else because I don't want it if it means I can't be myself.”
Lance shook his head, changing tracks. “Mr. Tremblay, you were one tough SOB when you played the game. I've heard the stories from your playing days. I heard about the time your coach scratched you from the game-time roster because you showed up to practice smelling like liquor—and so you went into his office and destroyed it with your stick.”
Mr. Tremblay smiled. “Heh, yes, but …”
“It was different back then. I know. Things didn't spread like they do today with social media. I'm just saying, I'm not this picture-perfect guy. No one is. And painting this fake life where everythingisperfect, well, it just isn't me. I won't do it.”
Lance turned to Kip. “So, with all due respect, Kip, I don't think I'll be needing your services anymore.”
Kip shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous. That'd be averybig mistake, Lance.”
“I'm sure,” Lance said sarcastically. “Listen, if I ever need to clean up my image again, I'll be sure to hit up Sterling Image so you guys can save me with your outdated cat memes.”
Kip's face turned bright red at the insult. “That isnotall we do …!”
“You're right—how could I forget the focus groups?” Lance stood from his chair. “You're fired, bud.”
Kip scoffed. “You can'tfireme.” He turned to Mr. Tremblay. “I was hired by Mr. James—tell him he can't fire me!”
But Mr. Tremblay stalled, and Lance pounced. “Mr. Tremblay, you can tell Mr. James that I flat-out refuse to work with Kip anymore. If Mr. James has a problem with it, he can do whatever he thinks is best. You guys can trade me if you want. I don't care. I'm that serious.”
Mr. Tremblay's eyes grew with worry. “I—I don't think we'll have to trade you, Lance.”
“Good to hear.” Lance winked at Kip. “Anyway, I've gotta get back to the team. Enjoy the game, gentlemen.”
“Good luck tonight,” Mr. Tremblay said.
