#WHY IS HE WEARING THAT STUPID BLUE FLIGHT SUIT INSTEAD OF HIS OLD OLIVE AND MUSTARD COLORS?!?!!?!?!?

[martianbugsbunny]

With every passing Wednesday I look back on that cameo in the Mandalorian with a slightly greater sense of fear

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 7

Saturday November 9th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was nervous.  

Halloween night has been…interesting, to say the least.  After Will had walked her home and tried to kiss her, she’d gotten into the elevator and started a quick, mad scramble of flailing arms and limbs about what had just transpired.  She couldn’t believe it – how he tried to kiss her and she flat-out denied him – when every single fibre of her being wanted to kiss him back.  But she knew she couldn’t, for her own sake and for Will’s sake, too.  There was no way she would jeopardize her job like that, and there was no way she would jeopardize Will’s good standing with the club, particularly Brendan, who was fond of him.  It was an internal fight she needed to win; reason needed to triumph over passion.  

When she got back into her condo, she took off her costume, washed all her makeup off, and brushed her hair through.  When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror – really looked at herself.  To try to see what Will apparently saw.  The long, brown, wavy but frizzy hair; the thick eyebrows; the Greek nose; the pink lips with their cupid’s bow.  She was pretty, somewhat, though she knew beauty was in the eye of the beholder.  Not as pretty as Siena though, who inherited much of their father’s elegant Persian characteristics, so much so many people didn’t believe they were sisters; and not as striking as her brother, who was a perfect mishmash of Mizra’s Persian and Orla’s Scottish, with his olive skin and blue eyes.  She wondered what Will saw in her to make him say “I want you”; what he saw to make him call her minskatt, his treasure, when she didn’t really believe so.  

Her first text to him was that night.  text me when you’re home safe please

A few minutes later, she received what she wanted.  im home minskatt

Every time he called her that she couldn’t help but swoon.

But the show had to go on, and Aberdeen still had a job to do, despite what happened on Halloween and despite all her swooning.  She still needed to be Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.  She still had to travel with the team when needed.  She still needed to share charter flights with them, stay at the same hotels, and show up at the same continental breakfast areas.  She still couldn’t let anybody know anything had happened between her and Will.  And when she was on the job, running around and fetching coffee and Prada shoes and Gucci suits and organizing meetings and accompanying other teams’ general managers and presidents to Brendan’s office, while simultaneously trying to shield comments from Ethan, she was too busy for her mind to be constantly preoccupied by Will.  But the second she saw him, in work out gear or a suit or in his jersey, she was done for.  She tried not to let it show.

Though every part of her wanted to kiss him back that night, at the same time, she didn’t want him to get too close.  Halloween had her feelings had bubbled to the surface.  That wasn’t the problem, because she could suppress them, especially on the job.  The problem was Will.  He apparently couldn’t suppress them like she could, especially on the job.  He started to flirt.  Openly.  Not in front of Brendan or anyone else in the office, but definitely in front of the team.  And definitely more when they were alone.  She knew it was part of his personality, to be an open flirt, but he’d started asking her how he looked in his suits walking into the arena.  

So she’d have to come up with retorts.  

Saturday, November 2nd, against the Flyers, he’d asked, “How do I look?” when he walked in with a perfectly tailored grey suit.

He looked fantastic.  But nobody could know she thought so.  “You look like you can save me 15% or more on car insurance,” she responded.  His lightning fast wink wasn’t caught by anyone or any camera.

On Tuesday November 5th against the Kings, he’d asked, “What do you think?” as he walked in wearing a black suit that made his blonde hair stand out.

“You look like a honey glazed ham,” she responded.  Jason, who was walking with him, spit out his water all over his suit.

On Thursday, November 7th against the Golden Knights, he’d walked into the arena with the most ridiculous ensemble she’d ever see a person wear in her entire life, and she went to school in downtown Toronto.  He had a Sugo hat – from the great Italian restaurant on Bloor – secure on his head.  Stubble.  A more prominent moustache.  Vintage eyeglasses on.  A blue, yellow, and black throwback Reebok tracksuit jacket on, unzipped slightly to let his chest breath and just enough to show off his chains.  Matching trackpants.  Best of all, a pair of the most absurd looking Leafs Uggs.  They were alone at that point – he was one of the first players in for the morning skate, and even arrived before the media – and she audibly scoffed when she saw him.  “How do I look?” he asked, smiling.  

She knew that he knew he looked completely ridiculous.  She could do nothing but shake her head.  “I don’t even have the words.”

“Find them,” he practically begged.  That’s when she knew this would become a thing between them.

“Honestly?  You look like my father when I see pictures of him living in pre-revolution Iran.  Except blonde.  And more facial hair.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.

“My dad’s awesome, so take it as a compliment.  But fourteen year old teenagers don’t exactly have the best fashion sense.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him and see that picture one day,” he quipped.

“No chance, William Nylander.”

Tonight, on a Saturday Hockey Night in Canada, the Leafs were facing the Flyers again, the second time in a week, back to back Saturdays.  This time, however, the Leafs were at least at home, though everyone had to get on a flight after the game to head to Chicago for a game tomorrow.  Busy as usual, she walked into the staff kitchen to warm up the snack wrap she’d bought to get her through the day.  When she walked in, she saw Ethan making a tea.  

“Hello,” she greeted him, trying to be polite to him though he had never really been polite to her.  

“Hey Girl Friday,” he said.  He wasn’t even looking at her, so she had an opportunity to roll her eyes.  “What brings you into the kitchen?  Shouldn’t you be fetching coffee?”

“I’m heating up a snack wrap,” she said, walking over to the microwave and popping it in for a minute.  

“Should you really be eating that?”

Aberdeen’s back stiffened.  “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Do you really need it?” he said, finally looking at her after he finished making his tea.  “Nobody likes a piggy working for a hockey team with some of the most in-shape guys in the league.”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.  Her jaw dropped open as she couldn’t find the words to respond to him.  “W…What?” was all she could muster out pathetically.  

“Seriously Girl Friday, do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asked.  “Your clothes might be stylish but I can see right through you,” he said, leaving her hanging as he walked out the door.  

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what had just happened.  The words that Ethan just said.  Commenting on her snack and the fact she was eating.  She couldn’t believe he had the gall.  He’d used the word piggy.  PIGGY!  What man in their right might would say something like that to another human being, let alone a woman?  She looked down at her body, covered by a black cable-knit sweater and skinny black plaid pants.  Did…did she really…

No.

Ethan Baker was just being a colossal fucking asshole.  

Instead of getting low on herself, she got angry.  She had been nothing but nice to him, and had succumbed to his stupid hazing and initiation, and he still treated her like shit.  What else did he want from her?  Why was he so incessant on making her life a living hell?

As the microwaved beeped to signal it was done, Aberdeen felt a buzz from her phone in her pocket.  It was, of course, from Brendan.  Please go meet Cliff Fletcher at the entrance and bring him to my office.

She left her snack wrap in the microwave, taking the elevator down to the main floor and walking towards the entrance.  On cue, Cliff was getting out of a black SUV.  She opened the door for him.  “Hi Mr. Fletcher,” she said.  She tried her best to conceal the anger and annoyance in her voice, but she could hear it.  She wondered if he could.  “How are you?”

“I’m great, Miss Bloom.  How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said as they walked towards the elevator together.  She pushed the button and waited for the light.  

“Excited about the game tonight?” he asked.

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulders.  The elevator pinged and the doors opened.  They got on and the doors closed, with Aberdeen pushing the floor button.  “Hope that we don’t have to play Philadelphia for a while after this.”

“Why not?”

“The jerseys.  They’re awful.  Their home jerseys at least are awful.  That hideous orange,” she made a face, sticking her tongue out in disgust.  “Imagine having to wear that all the time?  Who’d want to be general manager?”

“My son, actually,” Cliff said, chuckling slightly.  

Aberdeen’s face dropped.  Oh, shit.  Here we go again.  Aberdeen just had to go and open her big mouth again.  She just had to let her emotions get the best of her; had to let Ethan Baker get the best of her.  “Are you for real?”

“I am for real,” Cliff mimicked her, smiling.  “My my, Miss Bloom.  You’re really keen on speaking your mind.”

“Mr. Fletcher, I’m sorry—” she said as the elevator door opened.  

“That’s quite alright, Miss Bloom,” Cliff waved her off as they stepped off the elevator together.  “It’s quite refreshing to hear your take on hockey jerseys, but if I can give you a word of advice, be careful about who you speak your mind to.  You never know when their son could be a general manager of the team with the hideous jersey,” he winked.  “Or, conversely, if that general manager’s father used to be in charge of the Maple Leafs.”

“Mr. Fletcher—”

“I’ll see myself to Brendan’s office,” he said, making her stop dead in the tracks.  “I’ll see you during the game, Miss Bloom.  I’ll be looking forward to seeing you in the box and hearing more of your thoughts.”

***

“Aberdeen, can you come in here for a minute?” Aberdeen heard Brendan call out as she sat at her desk outside his office, busy entering some new appointments and meetings into his Google calendar.  She stood up from her seat and walked into his office.  He was standing near one of the windows, moving eventually to lean against the frame.  

“Yes sir?”

“I just had an absolutely wonderful discussion with Cliff,” he began.  It was a normal start, but Aberdeen noticed that he hadn’t corrected her like he usually did when she called him sir.  That automatically made her nervous.  “We talked about his time here, we talked about how the kids were doing, his son who is somewhere in this building…and then we talked about you.”

Aberdeen gulped.  He was going to absolutely annihilate her, just like he’d previously done.  “Mr. Shanahan—”

“Do you know why I hired you?” he asked, interrupting her.  “I always hire the same sort of person.  Male, workaholic, of course…worships the team.  But so often, they turn out to be – I don’t know – disappointing and, well…stupid,” he began.  “So you, with that impressive resume and the big speech about your intelligence and your so-called work ethic…I – well, I thought you would be different.  I said to myself: go ahead.  Take a chance.  Hire the smart girl who knows nothing about hockey.  Hire the girl with immigrant parents who grew up in an old bungalow in Etobicoke,” he used her own words from that disastrous interview.  “I had hope.  My God, I love on it.  Anyway, sometimes you end up disappointing me more than…more than any of the other silly boys.”

She bit her lip.  She didn’t even care that her eyes were watering and he could see that she was about to cry in his office.  “I really didn’t mean t—”

“That’s all,” he dismissed her coldly.

Aberdeen turned and walked out of the room.  She didn’t even bother going back to her desk.  She didn’t want him to hear her cry.  But instead of going to the staff kitchen, instead of going to the women’s bathroom or outside or just anywhere else that wasn’t the office, she found herself walking directly towards Kyle Dubas’s office.  He wasn’t her therapist.  He was barely her friend – hell, barely her acquaintance.  But for some reason, she gravitated towards his office because she knew, at some level, he would listen.  

Kyle watched as she walked in to his office, and he could automatically see the redness of her eyes.  He didn’t put his pen down or close his laptop.  “Everything alright, Aberdeen?”

“He hates me, Kyle.”

“Who?”

“Brendan.  I don’t know what else I can do because if I do something right, it’s unacknowledged.  He barely says thank you.  But if I do something wrong, he is…vicious.”

He knew what he had to do here.  He knew his role.  “So quit.”

Aberdeen looked at Kyle, furrowing her brows at his words.  So simple yet so direct.  “What?”

“Quit.”

“Quit?”

“I can get another person to take your job in five minutes.  One who really wants it,” he said with such confidence it made her worried.

“No!  I don’t want to quit!  That’s not fair!” she raised her voice.  The notion, to her, was completely ridiculous.  “But…I…you know, I’m just saying that I would like a little credit for the fact that I’m killing myself trying.”

“Aberdeen, be serious.  You are not trying.  You are whining,” Kyle deadpanned.  She stared at him, surprised that for such a soft-spoken and articulate guy, he was laying down the law.  “What is it that you want me to say?  ‘Poor you.  Brendan’s picking on you.  Poor you’?  Wake up, Aberdeen.  He’s just doing his job,” he said harshly.  “Don’t you know that you are working at the place that housed some of the greatest and influential athletes of the century?  Bower.  Clancy.  Sundin.  And what they did, what they created in this city, was greater than the sport, because you looked up to them,” he said.  He stopped momentarily.  “Well, not you, obviously, but most people,” he fixed his mistake.  “You think this is just a company, hmm?  Just a hockey team?  This is not just a hockey team.  This is a shining beacon of light for…oh, I don’t know, let’s say a young boy growing up in Sault Ste. Marie who couldn’t continue playing hockey because of concussions but worked his way through the offices until someone like Brendan had faith in him and gave him a chance.  You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls.  And what’s worse, you don’t care.  Because this place, where so many people would die to work you only deign to work.  And you want to know why he doesn’t kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day.  Wake up, sweetheart.”

He was right.  God, she knew he was 100% right.  He was wrong about nothing.  And for him to be so open with her – she knew he was referring to himself when he spoke about the young boy growing up in Sault Ste. Marie.  She was being a complete suck.  “Okay, so maybe I’m screwing it up,” she acknowledged.  Kyle cocked his head to the side in agreement.  “But I don’t want to.  I just wish I knew what I could do.”

“Well, for one, you need to walk into this building everyday knowing and understanding the history of this hockey club beyond just the surface level and what Brendan tells you.  But you already know what to do, Aberdeen,” Kyle said confidently.  “You just need to find it within yourself and do it.”

***

Aberdeen didn’t know where her mind was for the rest of the night.  Kyle told her she already knew what to do, and that she just had to do it, but she didn’t know what that was.  At least not yet.  It occupied her mind for the rest of the day, until the team started walking in and she greeted them all before they went into the locker room.  

When she saw Will, he was on his way up the stairs with Auston Matthews.  Word had gotten around the locker room that she’d been saying these things – that she had a wicked sense of humour – and now everyone wanted to hear it for themselves.  The game-time roast of William Nylander.  She saw him wearing a tan wool coat.  His face was red from the cold wind outside.  “You like what you see?” he asked.

“You look like a Costco hot dog.”

Auston almost fell over.  His shriek was so loud she closed her eyes from the noise.  “Jesus Christ, Auston,” she pretended to plug her ears.  

“I always knew you had it in you, Aberdeen,” he said, shaking his head and wiping the tears that fell from his eyes from laughing so hard.  

“What’s it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  It,” he looked back at her before walking into the locker room with Will.

Now he was in on it too.  She had it inside her?  What the hell were he and Kyle talking about?  She didn’t think she was anything special, especially in the world of hockey.  

***

Instead of winning in a shootout like last week in Philadelphia, the Leafs lost in a shootout at home.  It was dumb, and she knew the players hated the shootout.  Aberdeen and Brendan arrived at the locker room at the tail end of Mike Babcock giving them a stern talking to about something they did wrong during the game, and after he was done, the boys dispersed and began to take off their gear as they always did.  She watched quietly as Will pulled his jersey over his head and began unstrapping his gear.  

Brendan was looking down at his phone when she looked at him next.  He was furiously typing something.  “Can you go pick up guests at the door, please?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.  He was probably still mad at her for earlier.  

She nodded her head and began walking down the hallway, only for Will to show up beside her, his hockey socks still on.  She figured he was being deliberately annoying, taunting her knowing that Brendan was in the same room and in close vicinity.  “Get out of here,” she mumbled.

“You get out of here.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching for the door handle and opening it.  She was greeted with a man and a woman.  The man was tall and bald, already with a smile on his face, a grey polo shirt and slacks on; the woman had long blonde hair and striking blue eyes, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a Leafs jersey.  “Hello,” she greeted them politely.  “You’re here to see Mr. Shanahan?”

“Actually…” the man began, smiling at Will.

“Hi mama, hi papa,” Will said, smiling from ear to ear, leaning in to hug both parents.

Aberdeen’s face dropped.  She took another look at the man and the woman.  Of course.  Of course they were Will’s parents.  He was a carbon copy of both of them; a perfect mix of his mother’s blue eyes and his dad’s smile.  “Mr. and Mrs. Nylander!  Hello!” she said, suddenly nervous.  When they were finished hugging their son, she extended her hand.  “I’m Aberdeen Bloom.  I’m Mr. Shanahan’s executive assistant.  It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Aberdeen?” Michael said, smiling slightly.  “Det här är flickan som du berättade för oss?” he switched to Swedish as he looked at Will.  [[ This is the girl you told us about? ]]

“Ja.”  [[ Yes. ]]

“Så hon var varför du var älskar sjuk hela sommaren?” Camilla asked her son.  [[ So she was why you were love sick all summer? ]]

“Jag var inte älskar sjuk,” Will furrowed his brows slightly at whatever Camilla said.  [[ I wasn’t love sick. ]]

“Säker,” Michael rolled his eyes.  [[ Sure. ]]  He focused his attention on Aberdeen again.  She’d been looking in between all of them speaking Swedish, trying to pick up on any semblance of word that sounded like English.  “It’s very nice to meet you Aberdeen,” Michael smiled.  “Will mentioned that Brendan had a new assistant.”

“There he is!” Aberdeen heard Brendan’s booming voice from down the hallway.  She looked behind her to see him making his way towards them, a giant smile on his face.  “Nice to see you guys!  Come in, come in!”

“William was just introducing us to Aberdeen,” Camilla smiled, motioning to her.

“Ah yes, my new executive assistant,” Brendan smiled at her.  She smiled nervously.  “Come come, let’s take a walk.  We need to catch up.  How is Jacqueline?”

As Michael and Camilla followed Brendan down the corridor, completely ignoring their son and Aberdeen now, Aberdeen and Will were almost alone.  She felt him grab at her elbow gently.  “You don’t actually think I look like a Costco hot dog, do you?” he asked.

She snorted, biting her bottom lip to stop from letting out a laugh and having Brendan, Michael, and Camilla look back at them.  “You really are no thoughts, head empty, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have no thoughts going on in that little brain of yours,” she smiled.

“I think about one thing…two things,” he clarified.

“Hockey’s one,” she knew that already.  “What’s the other one?”

“You.”

The revelation hit her like a tonne of bricks.  He had to know by now that he couldn’t just say stuff like that and expect her to have a normal reaction.  “You just love to see me squirm, don’t you?” she asked.

“I just love to see you, minskatt.”