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“Penelope, this isn’t personal, and you know that. This is business,” he says with a lifted eyebrow like he’s scolding me for even thinking that this decision has anything to do with me. His voice stays calm as usual. “I’m making the right decision for the team and this franchise. It’s my job… remember? And a big part of my job is bringing on talent who I believe can win us a Stanley Cup. My boss expects me to do whatever I have to do to make that happen. And if I recall, the Hawkeyes’ name is printed on your paycheck, too.”
He clicks the end of his pen against his lacquered desk, his version of a mic drop, thinking that he won that argument. But even if he has a point, this isn't over.
He gives me a low-brow look like I’m the one being ridiculous.
I hate it when he makes me sound like a spoiled brat. But if I am, it’s because he made me that way.
“You know what he did to me. You expect me to be able to work with him now after all of that?”
“I expect you to do your job with as much pleasantry towards Matthews as is required by your position in this franchise. No more, and no less. Don’t forget that you and I are just as replaceable as any player on the team, and Phil Carlton won’t blink an eye if he thinks his franchise isn’t working at peak performance. Making this place run takes a lot of money, and Phil doesn’t mind cutting dead weight. Do you understand what I’m saying?” my father asks.
“Yes, sir, I do,” I say with a nod.
I cross my hands over one another in front of me while my shoulders slump as my father puts me back in my place.
I don’t have to like my father/boss’s decisions, but he’s right. Back in college, my father was the head coach for WU. The following year, after Slade graduated college and joined the farm team, Phil Carlton offered my father the GM position, and my father took it.
He has a job to do and a boss who expects results—the same boss who graciously offered the administrative position to a college dropout… me.
I didn’t keep the dropout title for long. I gave myself time to mourn the loss of my figure skating career and then reapplied to school, taking WU’s online courses that fit around my working hours for the Hawkeyes.
Now, I’m pursuing my master’s degree in sports management and dreaming of working my way up the Hawkeyes franchise. I needed a new aspiring goal, and now I have it.
The first female GM in Hawkeyes history.
We both owe Phil Carlton our best, and though I don’t like it, with Ryker getting deported on such short notice last week, we have to take the best option we have… and Slade Matthews is our only hope.
“This isn’t college anymore, Penelope, and Slade took his punishment like the champion he is. It hurt me to hold him back, and he sure as hell didn’t have to do what I asked of him. He could have taken one of the many NHL deals offered to him and left. But he knew that when he hurt you, he hurt me, and he did what I asked of him. That kind of loyalty doesn’t come along every day in this industry… I should know.”
My father spent a lifetime in this sport. He was signed by an NHL team at the end of his senior year of high school, spent twenty-plus years of his life playing the game, and then spent ten years coaching college hockey. Now, he’s four years into his career as the GM of the Hawkeyes.
He has the kind of career that many professional athletes would envy, and with three Stanley Cup wins under his belt, he’s admired in the profession.
I need to trust his judgment. Not just because he’s my father and my boss but because he has the years of knowledge to know what this team needs to become champions. I won’t stand in the way of that.
“At least I won’t have to see him that much up here on the third floor,” I tell him.
He gives me a sideways look as he turns back to his computer now that he knows this conversation is coming to an end, and he won… again.
“That’s the spirit, peanut,” he says sarcastically.
I’ll do my job as expected, but I won’t waste a perfectly good smile on Slade Matthews. He doesn’t deserve it from me.
I’ll have to do my best to avoid him at all costs.
And anyway, there’s nothing more he can take from me now.
Chapter Two
Three days later
Slade
It’s just after six am when I walk into the Hawkeyes stadium. It’s not the first time I’ve been here, but it is the first time I’m walking through the service side entrance, and it’s the first time I’m here as a player for the team and not a spectator.
I flew in yesterday morning and took the time to unpack into the roomy one-bedroom apartment at The Commons that the Hawkeyes rented for me.
It’s a nice place—far nicer than the tiny, slightly run-down studio apartments the farm team put us in.
