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The first month and the first new assistant? Fail.

"Sir, sir, sir!"

I stopped on my way to the car, turning to her. "Yes?"

"Your sandwich. I'm so sorry it's late, the place down the street you said you wanted it from had a long queue and they were short on staff today, so I—"

"I don't care very much for your explanation, but now that you've started telling the story, do finish it." I folded my arms across my chest, listening.

She hesitated, "I went to a different place and got what was best." She held out the brown paper bag, giving me a weak smile.

I sighed, not wanting to give her more of a hard time than I already had. I took the sandwich out and put the wrapper in the bag. "What kind of sandwich is this?" I mumbled before taking a bite.

"The best one they have. It has ham, turkey—"

I spat it back out into the bag, throwing the rest of it inside. I stared at her in disbelief. "Tiff—" I stopped myself. "What was your name again?"

"Talia."

"Talia." I handed her the bag.

She took it, grimacing.

"Did you read the meal plan I sent you?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't eat red meat," I bit out. "Ham? Is red meat."

She groaned, "Sorry. I'm so sorry, I forgot. I should have just gone to your usual place, they know your order. I apologize."

"Your apologies don't buy me lunch, Ms. Talia." I turned to unlock the car when she stuttered a question.

"Is, um... Please excuse me for asking this, it may be dumb, but is bacon red meat too?"

I watched her for a minute. "Do you cook?"

She shook her head.

"I'll answer you, don't worry," I shrugged. "It is."

She nodded in understanding, her lips forming an 'O' in realization.

"And one more thing, Talia."

"Yes, sir?"

"You're fired."

The second month and the second assistant? Fail.

"How could you be so late?" James huffed as I rushed in through the studio doors, heading to the dressing room.

"Your new assistant," I spat at him, "forgot!" I threw my shirt off, grabbed the robe, and pulled it on before sitting in the chair. The hairdresser and makeup artist both rushed in, getting to work immediately.

"These photoshoots with Catalyst and Aura were canceled last month because of a lack of an assistant since you fired the first one, what happened to this one?" he asked, standing there and looking at me.

"You hired her, you tell me." I sent him a glare. "She slept in this morning. Didn't wake up, didn't wake me up either, forgot that I had these photoshoots today. Oh, and she forgot to wear shoes."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "God, was it this hard finding an assistant last time?"

"Yes," I gritted, clenching my jaw. "Which is exactly why I didn't want to..." I huffed, realizing that the people in the room were eavesdropping. "Why don't you just ask her to come train the next assistant?" I questioned.

"She can't be seen around you and you know it. Don't even think about it," he threatened. "You have five minutes, let's go."

"Done, sir," the hairdresser and makeup artist stepped back quickly.

I pulled on the clothes for the shoot that were given to me and the hairdresser sprayed my hair once. "Let's go."

Third month, third assistant? Fail.

There's not much to tell for this one. She was doing her job fairly well but she couldn't keep her boobs in her shirt and didn't waste any opportunity flirting with me and the rest of the team. We were all sitting on the couch after practice in the lounge room behind the stadium, our assistants taking a break in the corner. "Tiff—"

"Katy," Christian corrected quickly.

Michael shot me a look and I blinked away. "Katy!"

She turned to me, grinning and walking over, bending down, her hands behind her back with her blouse unbuttoned at the top. "Yes, sir?"

"Jesus," Logan mumbled in disgust, standing up and leaving as soon as she did that.

"Honey, stand straight," Cody warned. "There are rules."

She blinked and stood upright sheepishly.

"Get us two Gatorades, please," I huffed.

"Sure thing." She walked over and came back with two, handing only one to me even though I reached for the other one. "Who's the second one for?" she questioned.

Michael glanced at me. "That would be me," he cleared his throat.

She walked over, standing behind him and handing it to him, resting her elbow on his shoulder. He looked up at her in confusion, taking it but she wouldn't let it go. "Would you like me to open it for you?" she beamed.

I saw Amelia in the corner of the room huff before marching over and yanking the Gatorade out of her hand, giving the drink to Michael. "I think he can open a bottle just fine. Don't you?"

Katy took a step back, putting her hands up in surrender. "I was just trying to help."

"I have her to help me," Michael replied, nodding at Amelia before handing her the bottle. She opened it, handing it back to him and he took it with a smile.

Christian's eyes cut to mine.

How much longer are they going to pretend they aren't secretly in love with each other?

"Katy." James came in. "Come see me in my office, please," he sighed.

"What's up?" she asked perkily.

"What's up?" James glanced at me, then the others. "They all feel uncomfortable around you, so you're fired."

Fourth month, fourth assistant? Also a fail.

Actually, I don't know if she counts because she wasn't exactly an assistant. She was running errands on Demi's behalf. It was Vanessa Lillian. Who I think is one of Demi's friends. It felt like my career would fall apart without someone helping me so I had James ask Demi if someone she knew could work for me for one of the busiest weeks of my life. I had interview after interview, shoot after shoot, games every weekend, and dinner and lunches with my parents.

Vanessa walked into the living room of my apartment, a stack of papers tucked under her arm. She dropped them on the table in front of me, huffing at me. She doesn't like me very much because I cost Demi her job. "These are the questions you'll be asked in the interviews this week. Study hard, jock," she smiled fakely. I sighed, taking the first bundle. "Demi's doing just fine, by the way," she spat, "thanks for asking. Dick." She muttered the last bit before leaving.

During the fifth month, I had no assistant. I decided to make James my assistant and show him what he took from me instead.

He balanced my handbag and duffel bag and gear bag, and the hockey stick as we walked to the car, leaving for our next away game. "You can't tell me you made Demi carry all this shit," he grunted, trying to keep up with me.

I sat in the passenger seat, waiting for him. He packed everything in the trunk and sat down with a sigh, starting the car. I pushed my sunglasses up to my head, turning to him. "She knew how to take multiple trips to get everything in the car before me. Start driving, come on. What are we waiting for?"

He shot me a glare.

"The whole point of leaving early is to avoid being late, Jamie," I taunted, pulling my sunglasses back down. He opened his mouth to reply but I beat him to it. "Shut up and drive."

Finally, the sixth month.

By the sixth month, we couldn't take it anymore. And everything fell apart. I was currently sitting in James' office while he hung up with someone on the phone, finally turning to me. I pocketed my phone, folding my arms across my chest. "Will you tell me what's going on now?" I asked.

"There's a problem," he sighed.

"Clearly," I nodded.

"No. A big problem."

"What is it?"

"The articles. From New York's game."

My eyes met his.

"Not all of them have been taken down yet. People are getting angry."

"Angry?"

"It's all people are talking about. Apparently, our agency is sexist for only blaming Demi and firing her, but you know that's not what happened. But yes, she faced consequences and you didn't. People are talking about you being a misogynist."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"People are saying you don't value women and just sleep around with whoever you please, not caring how it affects them. Sometimes, what you and Demi had was real and the agency tore you apart, sometimes it was a publicity stunt. There are a million different stories going around."

I paused, "And?"

"And coach Peters is pissed. People are coming to games just to 'boo' you, specifically. The team bus was vandalized at the last game, people tried finding you in the hotel. The team's reputation is going down. He says he can't let that happen."

I shifted in my seat. "So, now what?"

He hesitated. "God, he should be here for this but it's his daughter's wedding anniversary, I can't believe I'm the one telling you this," he winced as he said it. "But coach says that if you can't redeem yourself and fix your reputation, then..."

"Then what, James?"

"You'll be benched for the rest of the season. Hiatus for you. And if things still don't die down then... you're off the team."

I stared at him in shock, processing. "I'm... off the team? Like off off?"

He nodded slowly.

"He can't do that. I've been here since the fucking beginning. Christian, Michael, and me. We're not replaceable on this team!"

"Everyone's replaceable." We turned to the door as Coach walked in. He was dressed up, so I'm guessing he just came from the party. He stood there, folded arms, frowning. "You messed up in New York, kid. It cost you the assistant that was keeping you together and it cost her the job. I can't let it cost the team anything. Fix it."

"I can't just fix it, coach," I huffed. "She's gone. James fired her, she can't come back here after that kind of press. She won't."

"Well, the public eats up anything, give them something believable then. Something that makes you a good guy not a manwhore."

I paused, turning to him. "Like what?"

He thought for a minute. "Like the only thing almost everyone's a sucker for," he shrugged.

"Which is?" James asked.

"A romance."

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