“Says who?” Gibson calls from the other end of the table.
“His record,” Renner fires back.
“Yeah, well, we’ve got multiple chances. And the competition in Park City is held atmyhome course. We’ll see who wins that one.”
“Probably you,” I admit, causing Gibson’s and Renner’s eyes to go wide with my unexpected announcement.
“So, youdoacknowledge that I’m better than you?” Gibson asks with a sly grin, popping a fry into his mouth.
I don’t hold back my laughter.
“Fuck no. I just assume you’ll win because I won’t be there.”
“What do you mean you won’t be there?” Renner asks.
I shrug. “I’m only competing in the Winter Classic this season.”
Our entire table goes silent before Tasha pipes up. “But what about all the other stops on the circuit? You’re just going to leave money on the table?”
“No, Grey believes in scarcity. If I’m not available to everyone, then it makes my worth go up. And if I only race certain events, those events draw a bigger crowd, making the prize purses higher. So, this year, he asked me to just race the Classic. Said the prize purse would make up the difference for missing out on the other events.”
“Assuming youwin,” Trent says, taking a sip of his beer.
“And you believe that?” Gibson scoffs.
“I mean, yeah. First-place event purses are a hundred grand at the Classic. When I win both of my events, that’s more than I will have made in five competitions combined last season.”
“Of course, so we’re all allowed to bust our asses trying to earn a dollar while Daddy Warbucks continues to foot the bill for your existence.”
“Hey, fuck you, Gibson,” I yell, my fist slamming the table. “I worked hard to get where I am. Don’t blame me for your second-place finishes.”
“Man, this is bullshit. I’m out,” Gibson says. Pushing back his chair, he throws some money on the table before firing his parting shot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you let Grey Patterson give it to you up the ass, either.”
My brain can’t keep up with my body, and I cock my fist back, ready to punch Gibson right in the fucking face. But a firm hand clamps down on my wrist and doesn’t allow me to swing.
Connor’s voice is in my ear.
“Gibson, that’s enough. Your comment will be addressed by your primary coach, but that bullshit won’t be tolerated on this team. Vox, come with me.”
I shrug into my coat, down the rest of my beer, fist-bump Renner, and follow Connor into the frigid air.
“What the hell happened back there?” Connor asks as we walk aimlessly along the sidewalk.
“It’s fucking cold out here,” I complain. “Can we have this conversation at my place? I could probably use another beer.”
Connor hesitates, but finally agrees.
“Yeah, sure.”
I open up on the walk in an effort to distract myself from thebiting cold.
“Gibson’s pissed that he’s not better than me. Said he was going to win the competition in Park City, and I agreed since I won’t be there. But then everyone got sort of weird when I said the Winter Classic is the only event I’m doing this year. And Gibson basically said I’m only number one because I’m Grey’s bitch.”
Connor snorts a laugh.
“Well, he clearly hasn’t been paying attention. Top or bottom, you’re nobody’s bitch, Vox. But I have to admit, I was a little shocked myself when Grey said he asked you to only do the one event. Has he ever asked that of you before?”
“No, but like I told the team, it makes sense. The prize purse alone is worth it. Why risk an injury before that competition?”
