All in on You

Chapter Nineteen

I feel like I'm intruding.

Being the General Manager of the Toronto Saints is undoubtedly an intense job, but on this Monday morning, Adam Faulkner seems exceptionally busy. With a capital B.

I'm sitting in Faulkner's office with my notebook on my lap. We're supposed to be having a check-in, but between the phone calls and the notifications from his laptop and the knocks on the door, I feel like my presence is disrupting his day. Not to mention that I can't exactly turn my ears off as Adam answers calls from players' agents and divulges confidential information that's most certainly not meant for my ears.

"Would it be better if I leave? We can reschedule, no big deal."

"Absolutely not!" Adam says, still looking at his laptop screen.

Alrighty then. Slight overreaction if you ask me (and no one did), but he's stressed, so I'll let it slide.

Adam flicks the pen he was twirling in his hand onto the table. Yeah, I don't think this is about me anymore.

"I have a feeling that everything's not okay, but I'll ask anyways."

Adam glances up, as if he momentarily forgot I've been sitting across from him these past twenty minutes. He probably did forget, but no hard feelings.

"Ugh, I apologize, Harlow. The team is set to leave for a road trip in a few hours, and yet we have some of our community partners asking if they can 'pop by' to film some content with the players this morning. I hate saying no, but sometimes you have to."

Something in my facial expression, which I'm sure is politely blank, causes Faulkner to divert his ramble.

"But, anyways, that's not relevant or interesting for you," he smiles, blushing. "Back to business. You were saying?"

My eyes scan my notebook, to jog my memory for some of my talking points. I fill him in on my evaluation of the team's progress on some techniques I've been showing them. So far, so good.

"And again," I say, closing my notebook. "Please feel free like you or anyone on the team can reach out on the road trip. I'm just a call away."

They're hitting the West Coast for a few days, so there's the time zones to deal with. The games will be televised late on TV, but still. My offer is genuine, and I am happy to chat with the players or run through some mindfulness exercises if they'd like.

"We appreciate your dedication, Harlow." Adam smiles and adjusts his glasses. He hasn't looked at a device in minutes; I'm impressed. Oh, he just glanced at his watch. Does that count as a device?

"We gotta get going soon, and I know you're busy with school stuff too," he continues. "But there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while."

Be still my anxious heart.

"Oh, really."

Come on, that's probably the lamest thing I could have possibly said in the moment.

"Yeah, I've been remiss in not telling you about the Saints Gala."

I sure hope my sigh of relief wasn't audible. Based on Adam's lack of response, I think I'm safe.

"It's a charity event we hold every year around early March. There are a few different events, including a family skate for Saints players and staff during the day and some online auctions. But the main event, literally and figuratively, is the reception and dinner. It's huge, with over 400 guests from the team, family, partners, staff, media, and community partners. In fact, it was promotional content for this night that one of the partners wanted to film today."