Chapter Eighteen

The idea of Natalie Carpenter, a woman who spent most of her life in team sweats, in a tutu nearly killed Darcy. She laughed so hard the sip of coffee in her mouth threatened to exit via her nose.

Raquel and the other producers seemed to be considering the idea for way too long.

“I swear to god, if you try to put me in one of those ice-dancing outfits, I will walk out.” Natalie’s voice had a hard edge beneath the joking.

Raquel held up her hands. “Fine. We agree that we will not ask you to wear any figure skating outfits.” She looked at the other producers. “Much as it kills me.”

Natalie nodded and caught Darcy’s gaze. “Anything you want to add, LaCroix? Do you need only green M&M’s or your tiara polished every day?”

Darcy swallowed the urge to tell Nat to fuck off. This was her job, after all, even if Natalie seemed to think it was all a joke. “Yeah, one question. When do we leave?”

Raquel grinned and slid packets of information to each of the newly hired hosts. “Details are in the packets. We, of course, have to negotiate with both of your agents over terms and whatever else, but I promise, Darcy, you’re getting a raise for being on camera and Natalie, I’m sure our terms are better than whatever you made on the Olympic team.”

Darcy caught the briefest of shadows pass over Natalie’s face at the mention of the team she was no longer on.

“Dog walkers get paid more than the national team, so I sure hope you are giving me a raise,” Natalie said, her eyes skimming the pages of the packet in front of her.

Everyone around the table chuckled. Everyone except the two players who knew just how crappy the pay was. While the men raked in millions, they sometimes had to work second jobs to be able to pay for food and rent.

Darcy stood up. “Did you send a copy of this to Angie?”

Raquel nodded. “And a copy to Keena. They got it first thing so they could get back to us with any issues ASAP. We want you both to be ready to shoot some more segments before we put you on a plane. That way, we have some stuff to show if we have any technical issues. And you both need the practice.”

Darcy laughed. “How dare you imply we weren’t perfect.”

Natalie paused at the door. “Come on, that footage of me puking had to be Emmy-worthy.”

Raquel ushered the other producers out and then returned to the room. “Look, I had to push to get you this opportunity. The bigwigs are nervous that neither of you has much on-camera experience and they’re worried that the two of you...”

“Are gonna suck?” Darcy finished the thought.

Raquel nodded. “I watched the footage you shot. You two have room for improvement, obviously, but don’t lose that sense of fun. I love the way you two play off each other and bicker like an old married couple. Don’t lose that. Keep the trash talk PG but don’t stop doing it. I think our viewers are going to eat it up.”

Darcy looked over at Natalie, who was chewing on the side of her thumbnail. “You up for this, rookie?”

“Bring it the fuck on, LaCroix.”

Raquel grinned. “Get your butts down to wardrobe. They need to fit you both with all the Olympic gear before you head out.”

After she left, Darcy and Natalie stood in the conference room staring at each other until Darcy shut the door and let out a whoop. “Holy shit, we’re going to the Olympics!”

Natalie laughed and gave Darcy a high five. “This isn’t how I planned it this year, but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.”

Darcy’s smile slid off her face. “I know you wanted to be there playing but this has to make up for it a little, right? You get to be there, at least, and you’re going to get an all-expenses-paid trip without having to risk getting in a fistfight with any Canadians.” Darcy smiled, hoping Natalie would join her.

“Those Canadians are a bunch of assholes.” She sighed. “I’m glad I don’t have to move in with my parents. That was feeling like a slap shot to the gut.”

Darcy pulled the door open. “Come on, let’s go load up on swag while our agents bicker over how much these people are going to pay us to learn a bunch of new sports.”