“I haven’t been able to get through to him yet. My phone’s been ringing off the hook. I would like to know what’s going on.”
“Ah, what’s going on.” I repeat, my brain blacking out. It feels like I’m being ambushed. “Uh, I’m getting fired, aren’t I?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“That depends.” Coach’s voice wavers. “Are you able to confirm if there is any truth to the allegations?”
My knees go weak. I sit on the edge of the bed. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. I trusted Bill. But what did I know? I was a stupid kid. I’m still probably a little bit stupid. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” I whisper. “I didn’t know what to do. Bill told me what to do.”
“You know, we all know Bill can be a little extreme sometimes. He loves his team.” Coach says firmly. “Tell me the truth.”
“I think it’s too late for the truth. Everyone is reading headlines, and they’ll all assume I didn’t do the work to get here. That I didn’t earn this spot. But you said just yesterday you thought I did.”
“That part is true. You came in as an underdog, but you’ve worked your butt off to keep your spot. Stats don’t lie, but we do have a code of conduct we have to follow,” His voice continues steadily, “So tell me the truth. Did Bill offer you something off-the-record?”
I clamp my top teeth on my bottom lip, fighting the quivers in my jaw. “I need to talk to Bill first,” I whisper. On cue, my phone buzzes with another call.
“Okay. You let me know when you can talk to me.”
I end the call and peek at the new number blinking on my phone. It’s not Bill. It’s an unknown number, which I let go to voicemail. Hopefully my mailbox is full by now.
While waiting for the phone to stop buzzing, I walk to the bathroom mirror and picture myself finally telling the whole truth. Tension curls through my body. But I know in my heart I earned that spot. This looks way worse for Bill than it does for me.
It stinks to be fired, but worse, I’ve just confirmed my suspicion that my dad is behind all of this. I don’t even need physical proof anymore. If he were on my side, he would havetalked to me before the media. Plus, he lied because he said he didn’t know about the accident, but he had those receipts in his drawer like he was just waiting for the perfect chance to use them.It all seems planned.
And there’s only one reason I can think of for doing that.
He wants to ruin my life.
Downton Mapleton blurs past my window with its cheery buildings, and people bustling inside the shops like nothing’s falling apart. Meanwhile, I’m gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me from spinning out. I take a left onto the interstate, set my cruise control, and reach for my phone on the dash, calling Koren on speaker.
“Hello,” she answers quickly, like she knew I’d call, and knew I was already dealing with so much.
“Hey.” Hating to be a disappointment to her, I tighten my grip on the wheel. She doesn’t need to go through this.
“So I’m hearing a lot of things,” she says with a soft voice. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I admit while keeping my eyes fixed on the road. “Someone leaked a tip about when my car was fixed at the body shop. The body shop gave up receipts showing I paid in cash, and now everyone says I didn’t earn my spot on the team. The thing is, though, Bill knew my name because he’d watched me play in high school. I never would’ve gotten that spot without working hard …” My voice trails off as I pass a slow-moving car and get back in my lane. “I get that the way I met Bill was unconventional, but he doesn’t hand out favors when it comes tohis team. Everyone earns their spots. As much as I was lucky, he was lucky too, because I’m good at what I do.”
“I agree. You work just as hard as the other guys.”
“I’m on my way to the arena now, and my heart’s in my throat.” Shaking my head, I can’t get another word out because I don’t even know how I ended up here. The real question isn’t whether I’ll keep my job. It’s not about my job anymore. It’s about loyalty, and who leaked the tip.
Bill has enemies.
Lots of them.
Could this tie back to his rivalry with Arctic Force?
And how did my dad get involved?
Because he couldn’t have pulled this off all alone.
“Well, I’m already here. They opened the pressroom about five minutes ago. I’ll be waiting for you.”
My heart slams against my chest. As much as I don’t want to subject her to the media firestorm I know is coming, I also don’t know what I would do without her support. “If I lose my job, I don’t know what else I’d do. I don’t have any other skills.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Just speak from the heart. We’ll figure the rest out together,” she says, like it’s the simplest thing. “You can always help me at the flower shop. You impressed me with all your knowledge, and hey, your Funky Chicken skills could go viral.”
