The voice is masculine and official sounding.
“That’s me.” My name, not my father’s.
“This is Greg Segal with the NHL, Chief Legal Officer. We’ve acquired a copy of your film.”
“I figured you would,” I reply, pleased with how confident I sound. After what I’ve been through the last few weeks, I think I can handle some suits.
“These are obviously unusual circumstances. Our interest, of course, is first and foremost to maintain the integrity of the league—which is why we’ve executed an emergency stop-gap measure. A sort of force majeure.”
I remember a little about force majeure from business school, but I’m gonna need more explanation. “Like?”
“Your father, while still the primary owner of the Monarchs, has been found to have acted in bad faith and the league will no longer accept him as executive in charge of the team. The league has determined that you, Frederica Hearst, are best suited to supersede Hugh Hearst as executive in charge while the league finds new ownership. Is this a responsibility you’re interested in accepting?” Greg asks.
My mouth falls open. I knew I was getting in over my head, but this—this is something else. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by dropping out of business school. I don’t want to be an executive. I want to make movies.
“I think you have the wrong person,” I manage. “I’m not cut out for that.” Surely there’s someone else.
“Legally, your father has listed you as his next of kin in the operating agreement. Additionally, recent events have given both the players and the league reason to trust your intentions. Assuming you intend to forfeit your sale commission. This season is already extremely tumultuous for the players, let alone with the playoffs around the corner. It will help if someone they can trust is running the show until we can find a more permanent solution.”
Did I hear him right? My father listedmeas his next of kin? Not my sister? He never even asked my permission. It was clear that he didn’t give two shits about me or my choices, so why would he give me so much power?
“I see,” I manage to say.
“Is this something you feel that you can handle for the time being?”
“Not really, but do I have a choice?”
“The league is unable to suggest a better alternative at present.”
“Well I guess that’s that, then. Send over whatever paperwork I need to sign. I’ll handle it,” I say.
“That’s good to hear. We appreciate your cooperation, Frederica.”
“One other thing,” I say before he has the chance to hang up.
“Yes?”
“Does my father know?”
There’s a brief pause. “He does.”
My stomach plummets. I clear my throat. “Alright. That’s all.”
“We’ll be in touch.” The line disconnects.
I brace myself and head inside.
When the doorclicksshut behind me, I swear I hear it through the whole house. Silverwareclinksin the kitchen, like someone’s just set down their fork and knife, and the air is thick with lingering words not meant for my ears. My footfalls are heavy on the tile as I force myself to round the kitchen corner.
They’re all there—all three of them. My mother and Elle look surprised, like they weren’t expecting me home. My father’s expression is inscrutable. Only a heartbeat passes before he drops his napkin to his plate, stands, pushes his chair in and leaves the room.
“Frederica,” my mother says after another pause.
I take a seat in my father’s chair and push his half-eaten breakfast out of the way.
“Hi, mom. Elle,” I acknowledge. I swallow, but keep my chin up high.
My sister’s expression twists into a scowl, her eyes red and puffy. “How could you do this to us? How could you ruin our family like that?”
