“We think Miss Pearson set up this whole sexual harassment lawsuit merely as a way to make a buck,” Fred Gruber says imperiously. “We think she’s revealing your dirty laundry to the press to just make things more interesting and to keep the spotlight on herself. Tear at us from the inside so to speak.”
My gaze goes from Fred to Dominik. “Mr. Carlson—”
“Dominik,” he corrects.
“Dominik,” I say quite pissily. “I swear to you…I did not have an affair or anything of that nature with Sebastian. And yes, the relationship with Bishop started out on not quite a legitimate level for personal reasons that I don’t think are anyone’s business, but it’s not a sham now.”
“It isn’t any of my business,” he says quietly, giving me a reassuring smile. “But we will have to address it to the press. I think the truth is always the best course. Your statement can be just that with no further explanation. That will eventually die down and I expect it will be old news sooner rather than later.”
I nod, feeling so very sick to my stomach. My dad is going to know I’ve been lying to him, and no matter how good my intentions were, it’s going to slice him deep. This is going to embarrass Marianne, who has been nothing but kind to Bishop and me, trying to help us as best she could. It’s going to bring a level of jaundice to this organization that will color all the amazing things they’ve been doing as an expansion team.
And it’s all because of me.
“This is all my fault,” I murmur, looking down and twisting Marianne’s ring on my finger.
“No it’s not,” Dominik says.
“It is,” I say lifting my eyes to his. “None of this would have happened had I not just told the truth to my father from the get-go.”
Dominik is shaking his head. “That doesn’t change what Nanette orchestrated—”
“Yes, it does,” I interrupt, leaning forward in my chair. “I brought Nanette into the lie when she came to visit because she knew I had not dated Bishop for as long as we were claiming. And when I made her a part of my deceit, she had leverage over me. It’s why I let her stay for so long, and gave her the opportunity to meet people in the organization and set this up. This is right on my shoulders, and as such, I’m giving you my formal resignation.”
“I’m not the proper channel to do that—” Dominik starts to say, I know only as a stalling measure.
“You’re the owner,” I snap at him, completely not intimidated anymore. What do I have to be scared of? Everything has tumbled apart anyway. “There’s no one more qualified to accept someone’s resignation.”
“Brooke,” he says in a tone that has me shrinking back a bit. It’s commanding, slightly haughty, and a little bit threatening. “You did nothing wrong and did not cause this. I absolutely will not accept your resignation. I’d ask you to think about it. Take some time away from here if you have to, but at least think about it. That’s not a request…it’s an order.”
There’s no sense in arguing with him. He’ll roll right over me and he can’t stop me from quitting. But I need to set that aside for now.
Instead, I give him a cool smile, and I’m impressed with how calm I am right now. “You said you needed to interview me. That you need to know everything I know. Can we get that over with? I’d like to do that, and if it’s okay with you, I really would like to take a bit of time away from here to…think things through.”
Dominik doesn’t look convinced, and in fact looks a bit troubled. But he nods and says, “Of course…let’s get this done. I know this was all a shock to you and you’d probably like to get out of here.”
For the next two hours, I answer everything that Fred Gruber asks. Dominik doesn’t ask a single question, but he manages to shoot me encouraging smiles when I dare to look at him. As far as billionaires go, he’s pretty cool I guess.
When Fred has finally exhausted himself of any other questions to ask, I finally have one of my own. “What are you going to do? Are you going to pay Nanette off? Give her the money she’s asking for?”
Dominik shrugs. “Sometimes that’s the most efficient course of action. It will put it quickly to rest.”
“But she’s lying,” I snarl with outrage. “She pursued Dax and Erik. They did absolutely nothing wrong, and she’s totally setting Sebastian up. You can’t pay her.”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Fred says dismissively as he gathers his papers. He heads toward the door, but before leaving he says, “Make sure we have your most up-to-date contact info. You’re a critical witness in this case, Miss Perron.”
“Of course,” I say with barely any strength left in me.
“Are you okay?” Dominik asks.
I nod as I push up from the chair. My back hurts. My head hurts.
My fucking heart hurts.
“I’m not coming in tomorrow,” I say bluntly. “I’d like to take a few days away from here. I think I’ll go visit some friends in New York.”
“Think you’ll come back?” he asks boldly.
I don’t answer him but instead twist Marianne’s ring off my finger. I hand it to him and he takes it without any hesitation. “Can you see that stays safe and gets into Bishop’s hands? It’s his mom’s ring.”
Dominik gives me what looks like a sad smile. It’s as if he’s watching the death of something beautiful. “Sure.”
“Thank you,” I say, and then turn for the door.
Chapter 31
Bishop
The plane is quiet and most of the guys are taking advantage of the five-hour flight from DC to Phoenix by sleeping in the ultra luxurious reclining seats. I’m sure I’ll drop off too, because it’s almost midnight and I’m exhausted in more ways than one, but right now I’m nursing my third bourbon because my brain won’t turn off.
“Would you like something to eat, Bishop?” Blue asks me from the aisle. I move my gaze from the window and past Erik, who sits next to me, to the bombshell flight attendant. We’d established early on that I’m “Bishop” and not “Mr. Scott.”
“No, thanks,” I say, and then tip the glass back to slug down the rest of the liquor. The ice chunks rattle and I hold the glass out to her. She reluctantly leans across Erik to take it. “But I’ll have one more of those.”
“Of course,” she says, and starts to turn away.
Erik calls out to her. “I’ll have something to eat, Blue.”
She ignores him and disappears into the front galley.
“Give it up,” I tell him. Erik had made the mistake on the flight that started this four-game road trip of propositioning Blue to “a night of singularly mind-blowing passion” or some shit like that. It was lame as hell and Blue rolled her eyes.
Then he made a terrible error in judgment. I know he was only teasing, but Blue didn’t appreciate it when he said, “Come on, Blue. You look like a party girl. Come out and party with me when we land in New York.”
Apparently Blue did not like being called a party girl, because she wheeled on him, leaned in close, and hissed loud enough that only Erik, Legend, Dax, and I heard it. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
Poor dude was taken aback, but I know he was trying to save face. He asked her, “So that’s a no, then?”
Blue had expended her energy, though. She merely stood straight, gave him a cool look down her nose at him, and said, “You’d have to mature by about twenty years before I’d ever consider it, you toddler.”
Dax and I started snickering, but Legend called him out. “Damn, boy…you just got your ass handed to you.”
Since that flight, Blue has steadfastly ignored Erik and refused to serve him. Case in point, another flight attendant comes up and says, “Blue said you wanted something to eat?”
“Nah,” Erik says with a wave of his hand. “Changed my mind.”
The woman merely smirks, because she
knew what was going on between Erik and Blue. Hell, everyone on this plane did.
Unperturbed in the slightest, Erik rolls his head to look at me. “You okay, dude? I know the proverbial shit has hit the proverbial fan, but it will all blow over soon.”
“Yeah…I know,” I mutter.
But even knowing it isn’t enough to stop the churning of my stomach and the dread that feels like a lead weight in my chest.
I got a visit from Christian Rutherford to my hotel room early this morning. He asked me to step out into the hall and then proceeded to figuratively knock me flat on my ass.
Apparently things went to shit within the Vengeance organization yesterday. They got sued by Nanette for sexual harassment, specifically naming Dax, Erik, and Sebastian, and Nanette had gone to the press and revealed that Brooke and I had a fake relationship going on. I felt sick when Christian told me the story had first hit the local news stations last night, but the national news had picked it up this morning.
Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit about the sexual harassment suit. It was bogus and everyone knew it. Christian said Dominik Carlson wasn’t concerned at all, so I wasn’t worried.
But goddamn, I was so fucking worried about Brooke. Christian told me that Dominik had talked to her and given her assurances that this wouldn’t affect her position within the company.
I know Brooke, though.
She’s going to take this personally. In fact, I bet she’s blaming the entire lawsuit on herself. She’s done nothing but carry guilt around on her delicate shoulders from the start of this whole fiasco. While she finally stopped telling me she was sorry, I could still see it in her eyes at times.
What’s got me wired and unable to sleep is that I haven’t been able to talk to Brooke. I didn’t call her this morning after Christian left because it would have only been about 4 A.M. her time and I didn’t want to wake her up. So I sent her a text that said, Hey, baby. Christian told me everything. It’s going to be completely fine, I promise. Call me when you get a moment.
I had hoped that would give her enough reassurances when she woke up to start the day.
She never called, though.
And she didn’t text.
Not a single peep out of her all day, despite the fact I’ve tried on a few occasions to call and text her. While the day was busy between a morning practice skate, team meals, warm-ups, physical therapy, and meetings to get ready for the game that night, I had expected to be able to have a few minutes to chat with her.
By the time I was dressed for the game, I was forced to pull Coach Perron aside to ask him about it. He’s very much aware of the shitstorm that’s going on, as is the rest of the team, because Christian made a formal announcement about it at the morning skate. As for what Brooke and I had done, he only said, “You’ll undoubtedly read what I consider to be tabloid fodder about Brooke Perron and Bishop Scott. That’s their business, and if and when they’re ready to make a statement about it, they will.”
I wasn’t fucking ready right then, mainly because I wanted to talk to Brooke first.
I did, however, take a few moments in private to tell Erik and Legend about what was going on. They’d become my closest friends next to Dax and felt they had the right to know. Both of them assured me they were cool and they had my back. It was the only thing that made me feel marginally better today.
So when I pulled Coach Perron aside before the game, I was hopeful he’d be able to tell me something that would settle me down. Just a simple I’ve talked to Brooke and she’s fine would have sufficed.
Instead, he merely glared at me before I could even open my mouth and growled, “Not in a mood to talk to you, Scott.”
“But—”
“Not another word,” he said threateningly with his finger pointed right at me. “Not. Another. Word.”
I slammed my mouth shut, beyond frustrated I wasn’t going to get any help from him.
Blue brings me another bourbon. She asks once again if I’d like something to eat. I’m not sure if she’s heard what’s going on, but I’m thinking she has by the look of sympathy she keeps giving me and the fact that she’s being overly solicitous, like a worried mother. Erik asks for a bottled water from her and she ignores him.
I merely turn my head and gaze out the window at the dark patches below while the world sleeps, broken up by areas of twinkling lights when we fly over cities. I’ve always loved flying at night, as something about the sparkling lights seems sort of festive.
They’re doing nothing for me tonight, though.
* * *
—
Thankfully, I’ve slept off the liquor by the time we land in Phoenix. Grabbing my backpack, which holds my laptop, tablet, chargers, headphones, neck pillow, and other travel whatnot, I wave goodbye to Blue and jog down the stairs to the tarmac.
“Later, dude,” Erik says as I step off to the side and wait.
Dax and Legend come down moments later. I get fist bumps from them.
Tacker gives me a chin lift.
Player after player comes down, along with some coaches and other staff.
And then Coach Perron steps out of the plane and starts to descend the stairs. When he’s three steps from the bottom, he notices me standing off to the side and his lips press into a grim line.
The minute his foot his the concrete I say, “Coach, I need a word with you.”
“I don’t have time to talk,” he growls out the side of his mouth at me.
He gets one step away before I’m grabbing on to his shoulder. Not overly tight, but just to get his attention. I don’t try to lower my voice and I don’t give a fuck who’s listening. “With all due respect, this is about the emotional well-being of your daughter, so you should make fucking time.”
He turns and glares at me.
I add, “Sir.”
Coach heaves a mighty sigh of resignation and I follow him several paces away from the plane so we can have privacy. While I want to demand he tell me Brooke is okay, I start where I should. “I really want to apologize for my deception.”
“You mean ‘our’ deception, don’t you?” he asks, but oddly he doesn’t sound all that put out about it. If anything, he seems…amused?
“Okay,” I say carefully, because now he’s thrown me off. “ ‘Our’ deception. Brooke was so worried about you that she thought she was doing the right thing by making you believe she was in a relationship with me.”
Coach glances over at the stragglers deplaning before looking back to me. He steps in closer and looks me right in the eye. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You and Brooke were bullshitting no one. At least not me. You may have had others fooled, but I knew from the minute she told me you two had been dating that it was nothing but pure bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” I say, completely stunned.
“Do you not think I know my own daughter, Scott?” His pointed use of calling me by my last name rather than Bishop tells me he’s still very much pissed, though. “Do you think that sweet and caring woman who pretty much took care of me for months after her mother died could make me believe she was dating someone without me knowing it? Especially when she spent all her time either working or checking up on me? I was on to Brooke’s game from the start.”
“Then why didn’t you call us out on it?” I ask him.
Coach looks away again, and this time I think it’s to hide the sadness in his eyes. When he finally gives me his attention again, his expression is composed, but his words are still packed with emotion. “I didn’t call her out because when I walked into that office and saw you two close together, I saw something on her face that I’d not seen in a very long time. And it was happiness. I had been so mired in my own grief that I let Brooke put her life on hold to help pull me out of it. I took advantage of her, and I thought, why not go along with her shenanigans? Sh
e clearly liked you. This was obviously going to be exciting, seeing if you could hoodwink me, right?”
“Um…right.” Although I fucking have no clue what’s right or wrong anymore. “But why push the engagement? That was ridiculous.”
“It was fun,” Coach tells me bluntly. “As a father, it was my prerogative to make you sweat a little for even thinking you two could pull one over on me. Consider it my payback for the lie to begin with. Which, by the way, makes me kind of sorry you went and spent money on a ring.”
“I didn’t,” I correct him. “It’s my mom’s. She let us borrow it.”
Coach’s eyes flash with slight surprise, but then it’s gone. I guess it’s neither here nor there to him.
“If you knew about the charade, then can I ask why you seem to be very pissed at me right now?” I ask him.
“Because all this shit is out in the open and part of it is on you,” he tells me. “It’s on Brooke too, and I’m not happy with her either, but I’m also worried about her, which makes me slightly more pissed off at you. Plus you’re the closest to me right now to take it out on. I have no clue if you’re fucking with my daughter’s emotions or not.”
“I can assure you I am not,” I say. “We may have started this out as one thing, but it turned into something else. I care for your daughter a great deal. There are no lies or deceptions when I tell you that, and I’ll tell Brooke too as soon as I can talk to her. I’m headed to her house right now.”
“Don’t bother,” Coach says, and for a moment I think he’s saying it because he’s forbidding me to see his daughter. But then he adds, “She’s in New York.”
“What?” I snarl, completely outraged that she’s in another state and I can’t see her, as well as really fucking pissed he knows this and I don’t. “When did she go to New York?”
Bishop Page 21
