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She turned the car off once she parked, pulling the keys out and handing them to me. "I'll come tomorrow at nine, you have practice at nine-thirty. Then you have lunch with your mom at one o'clock, and then evening practice from six to eight. You're still going to lunch with your mom, right?"

I don't cancel dinners because of my mom, I cancel because of my dad. "Yes, I am, Tiffany," I sighed.

"Do you need me to cook dinner?"

"Not tonight."

"Okay. Bye, then. Night."

I climbed out and she followed suit. I locked the car and she walked out of the apartment complex entrance, hailing herself a cab to get home. I turned around, walking inside and heading up to my apartment.

"Mr. Hunter," the doorman, Mr. Harris greeted me.

"Mr. Harris," I nodded, saluting him with two fingers before getting to the elevator, climbing in. I swiped the key card and pressed the button to the penthouse. Without swiping the key card in the elevator, nobody can get access to the penthouse. I arrived upstairs, dropping the duffel bag on the couch, and headed upstairs to my room. Before I could reach my room, my phone buzzed in my pocket with a call. I pulled it out, reading her name flashing on my phone. She must have forgotten to tell me something, as usual. "Yes, Tiffany?" I sighed.

"I forgot to tell you. Your mom has invited one of her friends and her daughter for lunch, so they'll be joining you."

"So will you," I replied, walking into my room, heading for the closet.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"You know the rules, Tiffany."

"There are no rules about your lunches with your mother. I accompany you when you need me, that doesn't mean I have to every time."

"You accompany me when I say you do, that's the rule. So, make sure you do."

"Vince, I really don't think I should."

"And why is that?" I put the phone on speaker, placing it on the bed while changing out of my clothes and into grey sweatpants.

"I think this lunch is meant to, um, introduce you to your mom's friend's daughter. Potentially so you could date her, you know?"

"I don't think my mother gets to decide who I date. Be prepared to come with me and sit there throughout that lunch. I suffer, so do you," I said, picking up the phone and putting it to my ear.

"What a caring boss you are," she said sarcastically.

"Is that all?" I asked, waiting for her to hang up.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"The game this weekend. Are you not going in the bus for this game either?" Ah, right. The game this weekend.

Ever since Demi started working for me, I haven't attended a game on the team bus. It's loud, exhausting, and a frustrating journey with the rest of the teammates. I prefer to travel quietly, where people around me aren't constantly cheering or yelling, asking for food and drinks to be passed on.

Demi, luckily, prefers quiet rides too. She may not always love the long drives, but that's only because I make her drive the entire way.

"Tiffany, how long have you been working for me?"

She sighed, already knowing what I was going to tell her. "You could have just answered," she paused. "Two years, Vince."

"And how many times have we used the bus?"

"Zero. But I have hope."

"Crush that hope."

She huffed, "Have you always driven in your own car, or did you just happen to change your mind when I started working for you?"

"It doesn't matter. Make sure you're prepared to drive to New York. It's a—"

"Five hours, fifteen-minute drive, I'm well aware. It's not my first time driving us to New York for a match. I'm hanging up, I just reached my apartment. I'll be at your apartment at eight tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up too."

"You're meant to, sweetheart."

"Bye, Vince," she scoffed.

"Bye, Tiffany."

She hung up and I plugged my phone on charging before heading downstairs to make myself some dinner.

You would expect Demi to say I'm difficult to work with, which I'm sure she does say at times, but I think it's Demi that's difficult to work with. Normally, she's a good assistant. She listens to me and does exactly as I say. Even if she might not agree with it, she finds a way, a solution that meets both our requirements. She's there in any situation when I need her, whether that be at a friend's house when I'm drunk and passed out, or at another melodramatic family fight. She swoops in like a fairy and helps me escape. But she is one stubborn and annoying assistant. When she wants me to do something, when she's determined, she'll make sure I do it, even if she has to yell at me till she loses her voice, which has happened a few times.

After my last long-term assistant, Demi is the first to stick around, the first to manage and handle me successfully. Normally, they leave because I'm either too demanding, or I give them too many tasks to do which "aren't in the contract" but newsflash, everything I ask them to do is unofficially part of the contract because it comes under following my orders and catering to me. Which is why the thought of Demi quitting one day is slightly daunting.

When Demi first joined, she didn't look like she would last longer than three days working this job. But she had that determination that none of the others before her had, which is why I was willing to let her work and linger while I trained her for as long as she wanted. Eventually, she got the ropes under her control. She got the experience, learned how to tolerate me while meeting demands, and she made sure she worked a job and kept going. She's committed to her job and that's the best thing for me because I need an assistant for practically everything.

With the exhaustion that I face from practice and matches and on top of that, Dad's fancy work parties and dinners, I have no will, motivation, or power to do anything else.

I opened the cabinet to look for something to cook but there wasn't anything other than quick meals. I checked the fridge too but found nothing there either. I walked to the telephone that's in the kitchen. It's there so I can call the reception downstairs in case I need anything, but I don't use it for that. I use it to call Demi. I dialed her number, the only number I have memorized now and waited for her to answer.

She answered within three rings. "Yes, Vince?" she sighed.

"I'm out of food."

She paused. "Didn't I ask if you wanted me to cook for you?"

"How was I supposed to know I'm out of food?"

"Um... You actually check the cabinets and fridge, Vince. Do you need me there?"

"Yes. And buy groceries on the way."

"Okay," she let out a sigh. "Give me fifteen minutes, I'll be there."

I put the phone down and walked to the couch, sitting there and watching TV while waiting for her to arrive. I felt myself dozing off while waiting. I was woken up when she arrived when I heard the elevator open with a ding.

She walked out, holding multiple grocery bags. She made her way to the kitchen freely, like she owned the place, and set the bags on the counter, taking out some eggs and pasta. She walked over, standing in front of me. "I'm afraid you need a quick dinner tonight. Egg rolls or pasta?"

I looked at the two before my eyes met hers. "Both."

She stared at me blankly before nodding slowly to herself. "Of course." She went into the kitchen and started cooking.

I stood up with a sigh, going to the kitchen island and sitting on the barstool, putting my arms on the table and resting my head on them. I closed my eyes, resting them for a while. I fell asleep at some point and woke up when she shook me up. My eyes snapped open as I looked to my right where she stood beside me, one hand on my shoulder as she shook me.

She glanced at the table pointedly and I followed her gaze, seeing a plate with both dishes, neither of them touching each other.

She knows I hate that. When two things touch on the plate. It's just an ick.

"Eat," she demanded before moving to grab her crossbody bag. "I'm leaving. Make sure you wash the dishes and I filled up your water bottle, take it to your room so you don't have to come downstairs if you're thirsty at night. Do you need anything else?"

I grabbed the fork, shaking my head.

"I'm leaving then. Bye."

"Hmm," I nodded while eating, waving absentmindedly.

She paused and lingered for a minute before walking away.

I checked my phone while I ate, ignoring messages from Dad, answering some from Mom, and checking the team group chat. Everybody's only talking about the game this weekend. It's a pre-season season, something a lot of teams take part in to prepare for the big game season. We've got this week to prepare and then we'll hit the ice. And that's the best part of what we do. Getting on the ice and really playing.

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