Body Checking (Men of Havoc #3)

4

I LOOKED everywhere around the arena last night, searching for my video girl. But with thirty thousand fans packing the seats, it wasn’t likely I’d spot her.

At first, I thought it was a wild coincidence that of all the women in attendance, she’d be the face that the camera would land on. And then I started thinking about my picture next to hers, and the words flashing on the screen. It was too coincidental, and that’s when I knew it had to be set up.

I flip on the lights in my office and drop my bag next to my desk. The first thing I do is fire up my laptop, then I begin scrolling through the arena employee list. I find the name of the crew that runs the scoreboard and try each extension, but got no answer. It’s a bit early so it’s possible they aren’t even in.

I look through more contacts who might be able to give me information and then I remember the arena manager. He would know everything that goes on in his house, so I assume he’d know about the girl.

I call him but only get his voice mail. I leave a message, asking him to please phone me, then flop back in my chair, disappointed that I wasn’t able to find the answer I was looking for.

I pull up the link to her video once more, and look for any clues that might lead to her identity. I check out each hashtag but it only leads to a dead end. I click on her page and watch a few videos she has posted –as I have several times already– and fall further in lust with this woman.

She doesn’t have a lot of videos posted, but one in particular grabs my attention. It’s from a year ago and it’s of her at a Havoc game. She shows herself cheering with a blonde woman. They laugh and then the camera pans to where I stand and zooms in. When it faces her again, she mouths ‘Oh My God’ then toasts with the blonde. At one point in the video, she turns her back to the camera, showing off her jersey and the number thirteen along with Santos’ name on it. That’s when it hits me.

I pull out my phone and dial Joaquín’s number.

“Coach? Is everything okay?” Joaquín’s voice is groggy as if I’ve woken him from sleep.

“Everything’s fine. Your friend, the assistant arena manager, what’s his name? ”

I hear a woman’s voice in the background ask, “Bean. Who is it?”

“Just Coach. Go back to sleep, Bunny,” he tells her with a soft voice. “Um, my friend. His name is Jordan Fairchild. Why are you asking?”

“I need his number. I have to speak with him.”

“Oh-kay. Well he lives with me. Would you like to speak with him?”

“Yes,” I bark, then try again. “Yes, please.”

“Sure. Hold on a minute.”

I listen as a door opens, then a knock followed by the creaking of another door. A deep voice says, “What the fuck, Jo? It’s eight o’clock.”

“Phone call for you. It’s Hamlin,” Joaquín tells him.

It grows eerily silent then, “Shit. Am I about to get fired?”

“I don’t know, man. Just talk to him.”

I hear a couple more curse words then the clearing of a throat before he finally answers.

“This is Jordan.”

“Jordan. Hey. It’s Cade Hamlin. Listen. Last night during the fan superlatives, there was a shot of a woman that was shown as a split screen with me.”

“The ice-skating bikini girl?” he says .

“Yeah. That one. I’m thinking the camera choosing her wasn’t accidental.” When he

stays quiet, it confirms my hunch. “Do you know her?”

“No sir. I was just asked if I could make sure the camera landed on her, with you, and what it should say. I never got a name.”

I sigh and ask, “Was it another employee that asked you to do that?”

“Actually, it was a sort of friend of mine. Well, an ex-friend of an ex-girlfriend, to be honest.”

“I don’t need a family tree, Jordan, just the woman’s name.” I smack my forehead and close my eyes.

“I’ll ask for her friend's name and get back to you as soon as I hear from her,” he tells me.

I smile and relax. “Thank you, Jordan. I really appreciate your help.”

“Sure thing,” he replies and we say our good-byes.

I scroll through her videos once more and get an idea. I pull up the ticket manager's email and send a quick message. He replies ten minutes later confirming my request. Next I look for the arena’s team store hours and see that I still have two hours before it opens. I grow irritated, but tell myself to just be patient. Good things come to those who wait. Or so they say. I wouldn’t know since I’m impatient and like immediate gratification .

I busy myself with watching game film of the team we play in two days, and writing some notes for Goldie, our team captain

At nine forty-five, my phone chimes with a text.

Santos: Her name is Maren Thompson. IG Profile

I don’t bother saying thanks and click the link he sent. It takes me straight to her page and a picture of her smiling face greets me. The top of her page reads Maren Thompson Designs . I scan the text and see she has another link and it takes me to her website.

I scroll through her designs, admiring her creativity, and look for an address that I can send everything to. It takes me quite a bit, but I finally find it, in the smallest print imaginable, and scribble it down. Before I close out, I go to the bio and read it, giving me a little insight into Maren.

Hello and welcome to Maren Thompson Designs.

Maren Thompson is an independent interior designer working towards her

contractors license in order to bring you an all-in-one stop when it comes to

home remodeling and design.

A graduate of the University of Houston, Maren has a Bachelor of Fine Arts and i s

accredited by CIDA. Before starting her own business, Maren worked as an assistant

to Joy Harden at Unique Elegance Staging and Home Design.

Maren is a Houston native and loves all things Texas. From rodeos to bbq, she’s a

bonafide Texan, through and through.

Click on the gallery to preview just a few of the many projects she has completed,

and read all of the wonderful things her clients have to say.

To schedule a consultation….

There’s no mention of age or if she’s married, but since it doesn’t I’m assuming she is single. I mean, she posted a video talking about skating on ice in a bikini for a chance to meet me. If she were my girl, she’d never even have the desire to look at another man, much less dare to pull something like that just to meet him.

I pocket my phone and head off towards the team store. I already have a couple of things in mind and I hope the store manager can help me out with getting it all to her in a rush.

On my way to the shop, I stop at the ticket manager's office and pick up the tickets he set aside for me. I remember one last thing, and email the food & beverage manager to let her know I will have two guests in the Top Shelf Club and all charges should be sent to me.

I thought about getting her tickets for the owner’s suite, but there’s something about her that makes me think she’s an action type of girl, and not one to want to socialize over getting up close and personal.

With the tickets and tab done, I find exactly what I’m wanting and the manager takes care of all the rest for me. I walk back to my office with an unusually big smile on my face and it feels, dare I say, nice.