“I’d like to hear this for myself.” I startle a little bit when the voice behind me says this. It’s Coach.
Is he here because he didn’t trust me to not mess this up? Shit.
Henry gets up, running his fingers through his hair but follows Coach Janssen and Kenley. After a curt nod from Coach, I follow the trio, providing support.
And to make sure Henry doesn’t run away.
The conference room might as well be a firing squad. Bob Miller is there, plus a handful of Boston Buzzards’ legal staff. Tanner Suarez, the Commissioner of the USSL, is in the room as well.
I’m not even in the hot seat, and my mouth goes dry.
When Vinny Camacho, owner of the Baltimore Terrors, walks in, I feel for Xavier. He’s still technically on the Terrors yet was working out on Buzzards’ property.
That’s a big no.
It’s grounds for immediate termination.
Which is what happens within the next few minutes. I’m standing in the back of the room, watching this unfold. It’s a player’s worst nightmare. I feel sick for him.
His career is done.
He’s too good for that.
I slyly pull out my phone and text Justice what’s going down. I’m not sure there will be anything left to salvage for Henry, but maybe Justice can do something.
From what I’ve gleaned, practically the only salacious thing in that article that’s true is that Henry’s agent is missing, along with a bunch of money. He’s going to need new representation.
I don’t call in many favors with Justice. Hell, I don’t call in many favors with anyone. I’m usually on the receiving end of being asked for things. As such, my agent recognizes the importance of this, so he’s happy to talk to Xavier if needed.
Xavier signs the papers that officially terminate him from the Terrors. Damn. He may not need Justice’s help after all. He might be beyond help. Vinny Camacho stands to leave amid a trail of sarcastic comments when Bob Miller tells him to sit back down.
You could hear a pin drop in the room.
Camacho, an asshole of epic proportions if I’ve ever met one, throws out insult after insult about Xavier. “He’s as shady and ruthless as they come. Need I remind you that he almost killed poor Phaedra Jones? Tanner, think about it. What if it was your daughter? Edmund Jones was right to ban him from the BFL.”
This is where I want Henry to jump up and defend himself, but what happens next is even better. Coach Janssen gives the cue and on the large screen at the front of the room, a Zoom link opens showing an attractive blonde with a British accent.
Holy shit, it’s Phaedra Jones.
I’m not sure how all of this fell into place, but, I repeat, holy shit.
I wish I had some popcorn, watching all this unfold. Phaedra goes on to explain that she was driving and that she begged Xavier to cover for her, which he did, at the cost of his career.
But that’s not the most incredible thing.
Phaedra is on this video, making her addict’s amends, because of Ophelia.
Xavier also can’t believe what his bride has been up to. That girl’s got some moxie.
Coach Janssen stands up. “She’s been quite busy, and quite persuasive too.” He pulls out a stack of papers and drops them on the table in front of Henry.
“What are these?” I’m glad Henry asks because I’m dying to know too.
“The emails and documentation to refute nearly every single point in the ESPN article. I’ve had several phone conversations with her, and at my request, she sent these over to me with alarming volume and speed. She can be charming, yet with dogged determination, as you well know. One would never expect that level of tenacity from her.”
My phone buzzes silently in my pocket. I don’t want to tear my eyes away from what’s going on in the room, but I need to see.
Justice: Whatever he needs. If you say he’s good, I trust you. Tell him to call me.
