Chapter 15: Puck Me Secretly: Chapter 14

THE NEXT MORNING, dad called me into his office. I faltered when I saw Katrina, smug as fuck, sitting on my dad’s couch.

“Come in,” my dad motioned me into the room.

I eyeballed Katrina, but didn’t speak. I could read my father better than anyone and something annoyed him. I chose the other end of the couch.

He picked up a file and then tossed it on the table. “What’s going on with Logan and the press?”

“I think you already know.”

“Excuse me?” my dad raised his eyes.

“Isn’t that what this meeting is about?”

Katrina’s smile was smooth. “Max is ready to speak to the press.”

“I disagree,” I shot back.

My dad glanced between both of us. “Katrina, why do you think he’s ready?”

“He’s done a phenomenal job of studying media training. We’ve been through dozens of dummy interviews. He’s charming, personable and his career deserves to shine. It’s not fair for this team to hold him back.”

I bite back my retort.

“Rory?” my dad eyeballed me.

“Right now, Max’s focus is on his game. Why bring the media into his life when they only want a scandal?”

“You don’t know that,” Katrina cut me off.

“Yes, I do.”

“Ladies.” Dad had a bored expression on his face.

“You told me Logan was my player to protect and work with. Don’t take this decision away from me.”

“I’m the media specialist here,” Katrina reminded.

I turned to her. “Max has one shot here. If this goes sideways, it’s his career that gets hurt, not yours. When this blows up in his face are you going to take responsibility for this?”

“It will not blow up,” her voice was stubborn.

My dad stood up. “Let him talk to the media.”

I wanted to tip my head back and howl.

“Thank-you,” Katrina stood up. “I knew you’d see my side.”

This was the wrong move for Max. I knew it in my bones. It frustrated me so much I couldn’t even handle it. I started towards the door.

“Rory, a moment, please,” Dad commanded.

I turned around. I wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smile off Katrina’s face with a slap.

My father waited until we were alone. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Katrina barged into my office, all hot and bothered.”

“If I ran to you with my problems behind the backs of others, people would accuse me of abusing our relationship.”

“Trust me, she won’t make it a habit.”

We stared at each other.

“After the game, Katrina talked about setting Max free with the media. I was adamant that this was the wrong decision.”

“Is Katrina sleeping with Logan?”

His words felt like a shiv between my ribs. “Excuse me?”

“Are they a couple?”

I worked to keep all emotion off my face. “I have no idea.”

“I want you to get close to that situation and find out.”

I sputtered, “How do you expect me to do that?”

“I have confidence in you that you’ll figure it out.”

If this situation wasn’t such a mess, and if I wasn’t the one who kept messing around with Max, I’d find this conversation amusing, but it terrified me that Dad was turning his focus onto Max’s sex life.

I switched gears. “Why didn’t you back me up with Katrina?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yesterday you told me that the media ban would continue, yet this morning, you’re taking her recommendation over mine.”

“She thinks he’s ready.”

“And you agreed that we should get him on the right side of the fans before he faces old gossip. So why didn’t you back me?”

“My biggest concern is that you’re accepted by the staff.”

“And not backing me up will do that?”

“It sends a message I don’t favor you.”

“By siding with someone else even though you know I’m right?”

“Exactly.”

This was so frustrating. “Next time put our players first. I can handle myself.”

“Keep your eye on Logan. He’s your responsibility.”

God. Help. Me.

He checked his watch. “Your meeting starts at 9 AM.”

“What meeting?”

He stood up. “I want you to get to know the game better from the ice level. I want you to sit in on the weekly coaches meeting. It’ll give you a great oversight of the players from their perspective.”

“Are you coming?”

He smiled. “Nope. This meeting is all yours.”

“Do they know I’m coming?” I checked my watch. The meeting started in three minutes.

“Baxter won’t mind. The meeting is in boardroom B.”

I rushed to my office to grab my portfolio along with my copies of the players files. By the time I got to the boardroom, the meeting had already started.

When I opened the door, eight sets of male eyes turned towards me.

Baxter, the head coach, stopped speaking. Annoyance laced his voice. “Can I help you?”

I glanced around the table. There were no empty chairs at the table. I grabbed one chair from along the wall and wheeled it to the table while trying to balance my papers and coffee. No easy task in 4-inch heels. “I’m here to sit in on your meeting.”

“Like hell you will.”

I realized that Baxter had no idea who I was. The last time we had met was on my first day, when I stood at the edge of the ice with Dad in front of the entire team, but until now, there had been no one-on-one interaction.

“It’s at the request of the GM I attend all your meetings going forward.”

Don, the assistant coach moved his chair over so I could squeeze in beside him.

Baxter gave a humorless laugh. “Are you his new admin?”

Two coaches dropped their eyes to the table. I set my coffee and files on the table before speaking.

I chose my words with care. “I don’t have an official title, since I’m learning the ropes. My name is Rory Ashford.”

His eyes widened as he realized who I was. “This is still a closed-door meeting.”

I hated this. Why was everything such a battle around here? I didn’t lift my eyes as I opened my portfolio and clicked on my pen. “If you have an issue with my attendance, please take it up with the GM.”

He tossed his papers on the table and stomped out of the room. The rest of us sat there in uncomfortable silence, waiting for his return. Don leaned forward and passed me his meeting agenda. He pointed at a name on the top. “That’s the admin for the coaches. You can ask her to put you on the mailing list for meeting minutes and the agenda.”

“Thanks.”

Baxter returned, and without addressing my attendance, he instructed, “Let’s get this meeting started.”

Our eyes met, and I almost drew back at the level of resentment and loathing in his expression. I steeled myself against his unmasked fury.

One year. I can survive anything for one year, can’t I?