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We’ve lost our last two games, and the blame rests solely on my shoulders. My drive, along with everything else in my life, is gone. This is why I should’ve never let myself get involved with a woman, no matter how sexy, smart, and determined she is.
It was a terrible idea.
Italwaysends badly.
My family is living proof.
The only bit of joy in all this doom and gloom is the video of Ron Cooper tossing money around like he’s at a strip club, not the scene of a crime, and getting tased by a police officer.
After the fight with him and the several frantic calls from my agent, I stopped going on social media and refused to turn on the news.
Tag was nice enough to send me the dash-cam footage, and I’ve watched it no less than fifty-four times.
Watching that piece of shit fall to the ground after getting hit with fifty thousand volts is the only thing that makes me feel marginally better.
I flip my phone around, keeping my fingers occupied while I wait in the lobby outside the executive offices. I have a strong urge to watch the video again, but it may not be the right place to bring that up. You know, considering my ass is in trouble because of him.
“Mr. Craig?”
I look up to find Krista, their secretary, looking at me warily. Can’t say I blame her; I seem to have caught Remington’s resting bitch face.
When I don’t say anything, she shifts back and forth on her heels. I feel like a bit of an arse, and I know I should break the silence, but I have nothing to say. Luckily, she takes a step back toward her desk and says, “They’re ready to meet with you now. Gordon has everything set up in the big conference room at the end of the hall.”
Which means I’m being an absolute dick, and she doesn’t want to walk me down the hall. I get it. With a nod, I push up from the chair, and start down the hallway.
A bead of sweat trickles from my temple, and I take a shuddering breath. My insides feel like they’re filled with lead, and every step gets harder.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been dreading since I found out my old agent fucked things up.
I hesitate outside the conference room door. Gordon’s at the head of the table with Dean to his left, and they’re inclined toward each other, watching something on Gordon’s cell phone. My first guess is it’s some kind of spreadsheet, but then I hear the audio.
They’re watching the dash-cam footage of Ron’s arrest, and when it gets to the part where the Taser hits him and he lets out a high-pitched squeal, I can’t hold back my chuckle.
Gordon’s gaze snaps up to mine, and while his face is neutral, his eyes are practically dancing with delight. It’s slightly unsettling considering he’s about to ax me. “Ah, Mr. Craig. Thank you so much for joining us. I was just showing Dean what happened after our game on Saturday.”
I nod but loiter in the doorway until Gordon waves me in. Now he wants to be friendly.
Yeah, because I’m leaving.
“We haven’t been formally introduced.” Dean stands when I get to their end of the table, and extends his hand, which I shake. It’s firm but not crushing, like I expected. “I’m Dean Prescott, the new GM, and apparently, the cleaner of messes.”
I stand behind the chair next to Gordon and across from Dean, my face heating under his gaze. “I really am sorry about—”
“We’ll get to that, Mr. Craig.” He sits and gestures for me to do the same. “Please sit down.”
I do, reluctantly.
“I’m sorry Jazlyn couldn’t join us today; she had some pressing matters to take care of.” Gordon rests his arms on the desk, and from his spot at the head of the table, he looks pretty intimidating. “In light of the recent events, your fines from Saturday’s game have been drastically reduced.”
“I understand. Wait… what events?” My brows furrow, and I look between the men. Maybe turning off all contact with the outside world wasn’t such a great idea.
“You haven’t been watching the news? The sports channels? Gone online and looked at any website?” He gestures around the room before letting his hand drop to the table with the thud.
“No.” I sink in my chair, tugging at my t-shirt which suddenly feels much too tight around my neck. “It’s been a rough week.”
“It’s not just you. In light of Mr. Cooper’s amusing arrest and extensive list of charges, the Stars have decided to cancel his contract, and the NHL has expelled him from the league. They tolerate a lot of things, but driving into a daycare while intoxicated and assaulting police officers is not one of them. It looks like he will also be facing prison time. His celebrity status won’t help him much in court.”
