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“I—”
“No.” The answer is gruff and final. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t impugn Miss Morgan’s character by assuming anything about her dating life. Or mine, for that matter. That accusation doesn’t even matter to the situation at hand. But the answer is no. We’re not even friends. She’s the team’s PT and, in that role, has been one hundred percent professional.”
He presses both fists to the table and stands, leveling everyone in the room with his anger. Easygoing, charismatic Layton is nowhere in sight. “If you’ll excuse me.” And with no glance at me or anyone else, he grabs his cell phone and keys and leaves the room.
I don’t let my eyes follow him. I’m stunned at his dismissing everyone in the room.
But especially me.We’re not even friends.
Again, yet again, I’m less than. Almost good enough, but not. As if even friendship with me is something that Layton Ranger won’t deign to accept.
I hear Tommy’s parting words:You’re great, Livy, it’s just not enough. I want more, and you can’t give me that.
“Livy?”
I re-enter the room, trying not to feel the sting of Layton’s words. “Mr. Ranger said it plainly. There’s nothing between us. I’m thankful he was there Friday night and that due to his quick thinking, nothing worse happened.”
“He drove you home that night?”
“He did.”
“Has he been to your home before?”
“No. Tasha, I was clear. Mr. Ranger was clear. I didn’t argue when someone I could trust—a friendly face who stayed with me when the police were questioning witnesses and when I was hurting and scared—didn’t put me in a cab not knowing if I’d make it home safely.
“The picture is a snapshot of a moment but doesn’t tell the story that you or the news wants it to. Tustin was hostile during the altercation. I didn’t want to leave myself vulnerable. I can only assume Mr. Ranger would stand sentry for any teammate, especially one who had been hurt.”
Dr. Silverberg pipes in, “Livy, I’m glad you had someone in your corner when that all went down. How’s your neck?”
“It was stiff until I woke up this morning. I’m not concerned it’s anything other than a strain from resistance.”
“Glad to hear it.” To the room, he adds, “Is there anything further for Dr. Morgan before she gets back to patients?”
“Just one.” The lead attorney levels me with his gaze and then again with his words. “I want to reiterate that we have a nonfraternization policy with our employees. Should you entertain a sexual relationship with a player, that will be grounds for termination.” He raises his eyebrows as if waiting for me to acknowledge and acquiesce.
I hold his gaze, not breaking. He eventually tires of my delay. “Do you understand?”
“Was Mr. Ranger given the same speech?”
The room falls silent, but a grin plays at Tasha’s lips. Most of her team sits a little taller. After all, they’re women and were probably briefed aboutexpectationsprior to this meeting.
“I’m sorry,” the attorney questions indignantly, obviously surprised at my gall, and falsely assuming I’ll apologize.
“Your apology is accepted. Thank you.” I stand and show myself out.
No one gets to dismiss me after telling me not to whore myself out. I do not need to be challenged by a man who assumes I need a lecture when and where a male employee does not. The leadership of this team needs to understand that male-dominated does not mean male-dominant. I won’t accept that I am less than anyone else on this team.
Do I command seven figures? No.
Do I have sponsors lined up that drive revenue back into the team? No.
Do I deserve a lecture about sex because I don’t? Heck no.
They can try, but I won’t accept that from anyone.
Though, if I’m honest, thatless thanthing is a theme in my life.
Less than my parents expect.
