“Grace Madueke’s office,”the assistant answers in a cool, professional voice, and I tug at the ends of my hair, trying to remember what I rehearsed. “Hello?”
“Yes, hi. Sorry.” I’m screwing this up already. “Um. This is Jordan Hathaway. With the Vancouver Storm. I received Grace—Ms. Madueke’s, I mean—her contact info from Tate Ward.”
“Hold, please,” she says before I can say more.
Oh. Okay. Tinny, jazzy hold music plays in my ear.
Again, I ask myself why I’m even doing this. I haven’t changed my mind about going back to the bar after playoffs.
Tate made me a scout, though, and things are changing. Maybe I don’t phone it in, the next three months. Maybe I do the best I can while I’m still here.
A moment later, the hold music cuts out.
“I was wondering if you’d give me a call,” a new voice says. Still a woman’s, but a little deeper and richer. More confident.
“Ms. Madueke?”
Oh god. I thought the assistant was going to set up a time to talk, not actually put me through. That’s as far as I rehearsed.
“It’s Grace, but yes. And you’re Jordan Hathaway, the one Tate has told me about.”
He told her about me? What did he say? I hope he didn’t tell her about the panties.
Why would he tell her about the panties?
Jordan. Stop it. Focus.
“Thanks for taking my call.” I take a deep breath to calm myself the fuck down. “I know how busy you are.”
“I am, but someone took the time to give me some good advice when I joined the team here, and so I’m happy to pay it forward.” Is that a smile in her voice? It sounds like it.
“If you have any advice, I’d love to hear it.”
“For you? Oh, yes. Lots. What are you doing with the team on a daily basis?”
She has that command in her voice that Tate has, like she’s used to leading people.
“I shadow Tate, so I attend any practices, games, or meetings that he’s at. And he made me a scout, so I’ll be helping with recruitment and trades before the trade deadline.” It’s a month away, in early March.
A pause. “Interesting.”
She thinks I shouldn’t be in that role? “I know it’s odd but the North American scouts quit and?—”
“It’s not odd. It’s excellent. Get involved in the organization. Get your hands dirty and show you’re invested. Your people will respect you for it. Sounds like you’re already doing that.”
A funny, pleased hum moves through me. “Yes. Sort of.”
Ideas spring up in my head. I could do more.
“My second piece of advice is to work harder than everyone else. People will always say you were handed this role, that you haven’t earned it and shouldn’t be there. Especially as a woman. People love to criticize.”
And Grace is a woman of color. She’s seen more criticism than any man in her role.
“But if you work harder than everyone else, you’ll know that’s not true. And lastly, people won’t remember what you said or did, but they’ll remember how you made them feel.”
“Maya Angelou.” I remember that quote from high school.
“Maya Angelou,” she echoes in approval. “The Storm look like they could win the Cup this year. Do you think that’s true?”
