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Dodo smoothed down his starched shirtfront. “Anyway, you can’t give those little pigeons, pardon my French, any excuse to complain.” Dodo pointed toward the tunnel that led to the visiting team’s locker room. “Keeping the Geels out of their changing room and shortening their practice gives them an excuse to lodge a complaint with the league and will lead to payback when we’re in their stadium, and that’s the best-case scenario.” His voice was a level too loud. Either Dodo was either compensating for the swish of blades taking laps, or he wanted the players to hear there was conflict between the two shareholders.
“I’ll handle it,” Calista said, not looking at Dodo.
Was this what Calista had wanted his help with? What was the hold up with the Geels? Had she decimated their treadmills?
“Straight up you will.” Dodo remained standing there. He held out his palm. “We don’t own the stadium. We have a contract to manage it for the city. Not only does this cause a problem with the Geels, but the city could get involved.”
She said she’d handle it. He really hadn’t known Dodo to be such a whiner. Had he missed it? Was Calista making him intolerant? Why was he in the thick of front office issues? No good could come of this.
Liam shuffled his skates. “Dude, uh, Dodo. You’re sending her to the enemy camp? What about GM Hollis? Can’t he deal with the Geels?”
“Calista’s a big girl.” Dodo kept a firm tone. “This is a small example of the fallout if I’m not in charge.”
Calista rubbed her arms. “I’ll handle the Geels.”
Son of a bitch. Absolutely not. “We’ll meet you over there, Calista.” Ronan skated to the players’ bench and grabbed skate guards. Liam and Kiernan followed him.
They caught up to Calista at the visiting team’s tunnel to go with her.
* * *
Calista was running an hour behind schedule, a pivotal, critical hour. That truth was confirmed by the Geels congregating in the hallway outside of the visiting team’s locker room. “Sorry.” She hurried forward.
Ronan, Liam, and Kiernan were behind her, tall and imposing. She’d wanted to show Ronan and the Snowers the locker room renovation before anyone else. Now, that wouldn’t be happening. Sometimes project timing didn’t go as planned, but they’d accomplished so much, and she’d almost nailed the timeframe.
Her steps slowed as twenty-three Geels with put-out faces plus coaches and assistants stared at her.
She froze. Then individual stats ran through her mind, which helped. Tonight would be a great showdown. If she found the words, she could share that excitement. She had a million things to say and none. She huffed out a breath, impatient with herself. What did she want? For Ronan to speak in her place? No. Liam or Kiernan? Heck no. She’d show them she could handle this.
So many players, tall, imposing, staring at her, waiting for her to explain why they’d been held up, delayed, composing letters to the league, complaints to the city. She shook her head and stepped back a step. She couldn’t handle this.
Men moved to the side, making way as Zee shoved to the front of his team. Zenon Czerski, 6’5”, number ninety-nine, nicknamed ‘The End All’ for his name being the last letter of the alphabet and how many games he put away by unleashing the final winning shot. Remarkable player, handsome like his younger brother Mikah, but harder edged, and more chiseled. Also, one day, he might be her future brother-in-law. That would be so amazing, plus she’d met him before. She moved over to him and tipped her head back. “Hi.”
Zee Czerski shifted forward, and he dropped his frown. “Hey, Calista.” He put his hand on her shoulder in greeting. “Guys are getting antsy.”
