Maya:How's the journalist situation?
Me:Complicated. She observed practice this morning.
Maya:And?
Me:And she's looking for problems. Finding them where they don't exist.
Maya:Or finding them where you've stopped seeing them.
Me:Whose side are you on?
Maya:Yours. Always. But that doesn't mean I won't call you out when you need it.
I don't respond. Can't respond. Because maybe she's right.
Maybe I have normalized things, maybe the culture I think I've changed is still broken in ways I can't see or maybe Lennox Hayes is just determined to see the worst in me.
Either way, tonight's interview is going to be interesting and I'm going to make sure she earns every word she writes.
Chapter 3
Lennox
By the timesix PM rolls around, I'm running on caffeine and spite.
The morning practice observation was brutal. Not because of what I saw, which was honestly pretty standard conditioning drills, but because I had to choose between my café shift and the interview requirement.
I chose the interview. Called in sick for the first time in two years. My manager wasn't happy, my bank account will be even less happy when I see the missed wages, but I'm not giving Carter Lynch the satisfaction of thinking he can intimidate me out of this assignment.
I arrive at the rink at 5:55, early enough to choose where we'll sit but not so early that I look eager.
He's already there. Of course he is, I roll my eyes, I have a feeling he is never late for anything.
Carter's sitting in the bleachers, wearing jeans and a Thornhill hoodie again, how many of them does he own? He looks annoyingly put-together for someone who justfinished a full day of classes and practice. I climb up to where he's sitting, my recorder and notebook ready.
"Hayes. Right on time."
"I'm a professional. Unlike some people who schedule mandatory observations during their interview subject's work hours."
"That was just unfortunate timing." He smiles, and it doesn't reach his eyes. "But I appreciate your dedication."
I sit down two rows in front of him, forcing him to either come down to my level or talk to my back.
He comes down, sits next to me instead of across. Close enough that I can smell his cologne, something clean and expensive that probably costs more than my monthly grocery budget.
"So." I pull out my recorder and set it between us. "Let's start with basics. Tell me about your role as captain."
"You already wrote an article about my role. I figured you had that covered."
"That article was about team culture. This is about you specifically. Your leadership style. Your goals for the team."
"My goal is to win. That's what captains do."
"Win at what cost?"
His jaw tightens. "At the cost of hard work, discipline, and teamwork. Not whatever you're implying." He keeps his voice calm, which I thought my question would have annoyed him.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking questions." I click my pen. "In your three years as captain, how many formal complaints have been filed against team members for misconduct?"
