Sun & Moon

Music blaring in Catalina’s ear threw her away. Instantly she gagged down bile, gasping for air and trying to fight the need to vomit there in her bed. She grabbed the phone lighting up on her nightstand, seeing that it was her boss. Sitting up in bed and fighting the nausea that swept her, she answered the phone in the worst morning voice that she could ever have. “Hello?”

“We need you at the office in twenty minutes.” It wasn’t a question. Catalina barely heard it as she held her hand with her head, dizziness making her head heavy. She looked at the clock, blinking a few times before seeing that it was 4:35 in the morning. “One of our players has been arrested and released and he’ll be in our custody.”

“Okay.”

There was nothing else added. He hung up the phone and Catalina put the phone down, rolling out of her bed and bolting for the bathroom. She managed to slam her hip against the doorknob, yelling out in pain as she got to the toilet, leaning over and throwing up into the toilet, her throat lit with fire and her mouth filling with foul taste. One and done, she sighed, head spinning.

Lying backwards on the cold tile, Catalina gasped for air. Her entire world was spinning and her whole body felt like shit. Stomach torn up, mouth bitter and her entire world shifting around her, Catalina rolled up from the floor. She had to cling to the wall to get up, stumbling. She was absolutely still drunk and in no way going to be able to drive to work.

In her room, she began pulling on clothes. She had somehow fallen asleep in her outfit from work the day before. Pulling on leggings and a lose t-shirt, Catalina had to prop herself up on the wall again, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Grabbing her phone, she called a taxi service before pulling her hair up out of her face. She was instantly collecting things that she needed: a bag, her notes, iPad, anything she could get her hands on. When she was haphazardly dressed, she brushed her teeth, careful not to throw up again.

Rushing out of her bedroom and by the living room, she stumbled down the steps to the couch, slapping Heath’s leg and startling him. “You can go sleep in my bed,” she croaked. “I got called into an emergency. I’ll be back whenever I can.”

“Alright.”

Heath stumbled towards Catalina’s bedroom as she somehow made it to the front door without throwing up. Grabbing water from the fridge she barged into the hall and down through the lobby. The cab was waiting for her as she slid in feeling like she was still in college, rattling off the address and finishing the water bottle that she had mostly drained on the way from her door to the street.

Catalina looked like a zombie on the way to the office, pinching the bridge of her nose to force the headache from her eyes to know avail. The cabbie said nothing, though he did watch her with a dry expression in the mirror. She didn’t have the energy to snap at him to mind his own business. Then again, she probably looked like she was going to throw up in his car. Neither one of them wanted that.

Tossing money into the front seat, Catalina hurried for the door. It was almost five in the morning, the cold air ripping right through her thin shirt and leggings. She had dressed completely wrong and was shivering as well as fighting the urge to fall over as she walked into the empty lobby, hurrying to the elevator.

When she got to her floor, she was grateful to see Alice walking by with coffee and a box of donuts. She too, was dressed badly. It seemed Catalina wasn’t the only one who had gotten the last minute phone call about an emergency. She had no idea what the emergency was but she could only assume if she was being called in, it was because the information needed to be released early on and in the morning news before it totally blew up.

Catalina muttered a small prayer walking into the meeting room, accepting the coffee from Alice. And then feeling a moment of complete unsurprise when she saw Patrick Kane glaring at the wooden table when she walked in.

Catalina remained expressionless, taking in his appearance. Red eyes from lack of sleep, messy hair, and the same clothes that he had been wearing the night before. It was obvious that he hadn’t gone home yet and Catalina was already processing how to fix whatever it was that he had done.

At the head of the table, Adam Rogowin was sitting. He was dressed in a pressed shirt and slacks, the only one in the room who didn’t look like they had been woken up in the middle of the night to deal with some sort of work related crisis. He also struck Catalina as the kind of person who would be dressed for business in his sleep. He was extremely friendly but always serious in the kind of way that one could assure he would get the job done. Which was the best thing in the PR world.

Sitting down in between Alice and Carter, who managed Social Media, Catalina studied Patrick. He was sitting across from her, hands folded on the table. If he even saw her enter the room he didn’t say make a move to let her know. Coach Quenneville was sitting next to him in a windbreaker and jeans, his face gravely serious. Catalina had only seen him a few times but she thought that he always looked serious, though he had the kind of eyes that looked like they could be genuinely amused. They were not amused that morning, however.

“Glad everyone is here,” Adam began. “Sorry for the late call, but we’ve got a small situation to take care of. Mr. Kane was involved in an altercation earlier this morning on his way back to his apartment and was taken into custody at the down town precinct.”

Though Catalina rather wanted to roll out her chair and take a nap on the floor, she didn’t. She instantly went to typing on her iPad as Adam continued, rattling off the story and explaining that multiple witnesses had seen the altercation with Patrick and a man named Nathan Sandler. Because of the large amount of witnesses, the story would be in the news or on the internet that morning, meaning that there needed to be a media release, a disclosure on the incident and comments from both the player and the coach.

“Our goal is to keep any photos or videos off of the internet,” Adam continued. “Mr. Kane was released on a Desk Appearance Ticket and his arraignment has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at eight. We don’t believe there will be charges but we must be prepared if there are.” Adam sighed, glancing at Patrick who was still looking at the table, face set in stone. “Any suggestions on strategy?”

“Yeah,” Catalina said distantly, pulling up her iPad and holding it up in front of everyone. “Nathan Sandler, Chicago native has been arrested for two counts of aggravated assault and three counts of battery. The two counts of battery were last year, four months apart. All arrest locations are local bars.”

“Real winner,” Patrick muttered.

Catalina paused to watch him. For the first time, he picked his eyes up from the table, looking at her. They were dark blue, different from their usual sky-color. “It’s safe to bet that if you tell them that Mr. Sandler has two accounts of battery within the past year within a media release, the press won’t to have a field day with Mr. Kane, despite the taxi driver incident a few years ago.”

Catalina put down the iPad, crossing her hands. “However, I suggest that Mr. Kane pick up a few community service events. I’m sure there are plenty peewee hockey programs that would like their kids to see the rink and take tips from someone as affluent in hockey as him..”

For a moment, no one said anything, looking at Catalina. She glanced at Carter. “Run a contest on twitter and instagram to win glass seats at Sunday’s game. Make the theme revolved around personal bromances, use Kane and Toews as an example with a hash tag to track entries. It’ll keep social media focus on winning glass seats.”

Alice let out a long whistle next to her. “Holy shit, no wonder they hired you. So you want us to run this to the stations as Mr. Sandler being the aggressor?”

“Yes,” Catalina clipped. Patrick was staring at her. “His arrests are free information, include them in the article. Highlight that Mr. Kane was safely making sure that his companion was getting home safe upon the altercation in which Mr. Kane tried to solve cordially.”

“That isn’t totally true,” Patrick said slowly, eyes drifting around the room. “I didn’t back down from him.”

“Tell the media,” Catalina said pointedly, “That it was a misunderstanding based on Mr. Sandler’s intoxication. Coach, I would prefer if you made no comments but if prompted, discuss Mr. Kane’s habit of being a good friend and making sure people get home safely.” Catalina flicked her eyes directly to Patrick. “And you don’t say anything at all.”

Patrick made a sound. “Don’t you need more than just blaming this guy? I shoved him first, people saw that.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, it’s a lie.”

“No, it’s my version of the truth and it is the one that you are going to use, do you understand, Mr. Kane? The media are going to bring up your past assault and attempt to pin it against you. Drowning social media with ticket options and releasing the history of Mr. Sandler puts you on level playing ground.”

“It’s-"

“I advise you,” Adam interrupted softly, “To let Ms. Suarez do her job, Patrick. She’s good at what she does and that is a solid crises plan with the least amount of damage to you. The ideal outcome is that the press is overall neutral and not negative.”

“I’ll work on a release and email it to Catalina,” Alice said. It was clearly that the decision had been made. “She can make any touches on it before it goes out. I’ll have it done before the 7:00 news.”

“I’ll work on the contest. How do I-"

“I’ll get you the tickets,” Catalina said gently, offering him a smile. The ticket office already owed her a favor for fucking up pricing as it was. Everyone began standing up, Patrick still sitting and pouting. “I’ll call you when they’re confirmed.”

“Excellent work, Suarez.”

Catalina nodded her head. It wasn’t a difficult fix. She was, however, going to call the station and request that they release no information. They had restrictions against releasing certain parts of information, but Catalina was always careful to inform precincts the importance of total disclosure, even about Patrick saying please and thank you. It mattered little to her.

In the hall, she paused. Catalina still felt awful. Her limbs were sore and her stomach was hollow. A subtle pulsing had grown in her head, ever present and she felt sweaty, her hands slick. Her mouth was extremely dry, despite the amount of water that she had drank.

Legs heavy and body miserable, Catalina walked toward the elevator. Alice had vanished to her office and Carter was on his computer in his office, thanking her one more time as Catalina passed. She nodded her head, making a beeline for the elevator. She walked right past her own office, the windows dark and the door locked.

“Catalina!” she deftly looked behind her, holding out her hand and punching the down button with her thumb. Patrick was trailing after her quickly, looking much more lively than she felt. “That whole story about him being the bad guy-"

“I’m doing my job.” She leveled him with a stare. “I know you don’t like it but it doesn’t matter. My job is to make you look good when you make yourself look bad. I’m going my job. Do yours.”

It wasn’t that she disliked Patrick Kane. She found him quite interesting upon occasion. Everyone made mistakes and he had made one too. But if there was one thing that struck Catalina’s easy temper, it was being questioned at work, especially in front of a room full of people. She knew what she was doing and she didn’t want to have it pointed out that what she was doing was twisting the truth. It was the truth, of course. But her version of it.

“Go get coffee with me.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I have no interest in going on a date with you.”

He grinned. “Woah ho there, who said I was asking you on a date? I want coffee and you happen to be standing in front of me.” The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, Patrick following her. Coach Quennville stayed speaking to Adam and everyone else was in their office. The doors closed. “Plus, I’ve noticed that you’ve finished your coffee, and with the state you seemed to be in last night, you probably want more.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Like I said,” he repeated easily, leaning against the wall. He stuck his hands in his pocket, eyes watching as the elevator counted down. “I want coffee, and you happen to be in front of me.” His eyes slid towards her. “And we should probably talk about those medical bills, since I tried to kill you with my car and all.”

Despite her sour mood, her lip turned upwards in the corner. “So you admit trying to kill me?”

The doors opened. “I’ll tell you after breakfast.”

“Coffee, you mean.”

“No, now I’m hungry. Let’s go.”