“Will do. Talk later, Mattias.”
“Talk later.”
I want to tell someone, but there’s no one to tell—which just makes me realize how alone I really am. I have my team, but I’m not exactly jumping to share news of my impending uncledom with them. They wouldn’t care. Aside from Micke, I don’t really have anyone to talk to. Suddenly my condo feels too big, too empty. When I walk inside, I turn on the lights, but the shadows seem to linger, reminding me that this place isn’t really home.
Poirier’s right. I need to clear my head. I’ve still got another hour of dwindling daylight, so I change into jogging clothes, grab my headphones and set off for the esplanade.
Chapter 48
Freddie
It’s a rainy January morning and I’m struggling to get out of bed. Wrapped in my duvet, a barrier between me and the world, I lay there, scrolling through the Hollywood trades and looking at the lineups for the film festival season. Miles’s horror flick is nowhere to be seen. I guess they never did get funding. I roll over and toss my phone to the side. I’m not ready to think about Hollywood. I’m not ready for this season to end, to go back to constant worry about proving myself artistically, about whether I’m attending the right parties, if I’m showing up on the right peoples’ feeds. Returning to the rat race, fighting to come out on top like the film crew inCannibal Holocaust. I don’t know where I go from here.
At some point, I started to like being here. For once in my life, it felt like I’d earned my place. It wasn’t easy, but the team accepted me and brought me into their world, believing the best of me and giving me the benefit of the doubt. Even if I wanted to stay, I don’t belong here anymore. Not after this. Soon the news will get out, and Mattias will be far from the only one who hates me. I grit my teeth and roll out of bed.
Time to face my demons. I’ve scheduled a production meeting with my father. What he doesn’t know is that I’ll be recording the whole thing.
I drag a brush through my tangled hair and stuff my body into my nicest pantsuit. If I’m going to pretend to be his little business darling, I need the right costume. If they don’t take me seriously, I’ll let that be their weakness. I finish the look with a nude lip, decide it’s good enough, and leave the house.
As I watch Manhattan Beach disappear in the rear view, I’m haunted by Mattias’s words.I think you’re just sorry you got caught. They flash in my head, like a broken marquee on an old dusty theater. I pull into the sports center parking lot and march towards the rink, letting my simmering anger fuel my steps. Today is the beginning of the end. There’s a flaw in my programming, and like HAL 9000 in2001: A Space Odyssey, I’m taking over the ship.
Parker meets me in the parking lot, just like we planned. Their fingerwork is quick as they tape a lavalier under my shirt, then another, just so we have a backup. I’ve asked them not to listen to the recording, however, not wanting to implicate anyone else in what I’m about to do. It’s going to be messy enough as is.
On my way in, I purposely avoid Coach Marshall, Ines, and the players, pausing outside my father’s office door to gather myself. I’ve trained my whole life for this. He raised me a liar, and this is my Founders’ Cup. Mattias is never going to trust me again, but I can make this better, even if whatever there was between us is done.
I hit the record button. Then I head inside.
“I have my hands full this morning, Fred,” my father says without looking at me when I enter. “I hope this won’t take long.”
“I’ll keep it short as possible.” I take a seat. “I wanted to talk to you about the production schedule. When I was reviewing the tentative sale terms,I saw that the current franchise valuation stands at six hundred million, but the documentary hasn’t been released yet. Eros knows you’re expecting an increase in valuation post-release, correct?”
He smiles, and some part of me shatters. “I like where your head’s at, but I’m ten steps ahead of you. We’ve already used an algorithm to estimate the documentary’s added value, which is why the tentative deal valuation’s sitting at six hundred. Current worth is closer to five.”
If only he were this pleased with me when I’m just Freddie. Maybe one day, when he’s forced to reckon with what I’m capable of, he will be.
“What if it adds more than a hundred million? You’ll be selling short,” I say.
He snorts. “These algorithms are intensely accurate, Fred, otherwise firms like Eros wouldn’t use them. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
I’m just Freddie, his little girl who doesn’t know anything about the world, I think bitterly. I don’t think now is the time to get on my soapbox about how profit algorithms are destroying the entertainment industry, however, and how you can’t really measure the value of art, so I keep my mouth shut about that and press him for other information instead.
“You trust them? Eros? I’m just wondering if you’ve considered other possible buyers. People who might want to keep the team in LA.”
He shrugs, like he couldn’t care less. “I don’t know abouttrust, but our family has a large stake in Eros Capital Management, and Eros has a large stake in the Pioneers. The Pioneers have a more entrenched following. Keeping the Monarchs around is splitting the fanbase and keeping our profits bridled. Besides, the Monarchs have real estate worth more than any other team’s in this country, and Eros will be able to putit to use. On the books, it’ll be my personal decision to sell. Real estate’s worth a lot in this town, and this practice rink isn’t worth the price to build here. We’ll knock it all down.”
I feel like he’s driven a machete through my heart. This is more than I asked for. So much more that I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Not only is he selling the team to private equity, but our family trust stands to rake in the profits from the liquidation? My ears ring. Red explodes behind my eyes. I’m shaking, I’m so fucking furious, and I have to grip my armrests to keep myself upright with the way my vision tunnels.Breathe, Freddie, I tell myself.You have a job to do.
It’s breathtakingly corrupt.
“So liquidation’s a go. What do you think’s going to happen to all of the people whose lives will be upended by this?” I manage to say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shake in my voice.
He scoffs. “That bleeding heart’s not gonna help you, Fred. They’re hockey players with multi-million-dollar contracts. They’ll be fine.” He looks at me like I’m some silly little girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It makes me want to scream.
“And the staff?” I say.
“It’s business, Fred. It’s not personal. All those people will find some other line of work like they always do,” he replies. “They’ll go get another job.”
There’s fire in my veins. That’s so fucking rich coming from a man who got lucky from some stocks and has never had to work a day since—whose children and children’s children will never once have to worry about money if they don’t want to.
