The Miners’ PR director breezed through the door of her office and said, “Hey, Kendall, I need to talk with you—oh. I didn’t see you’re on the phone.”
Kendall made the arm motion that meant “I’ll be with you in a minute.” She heard Bonnie say, “It sounds like you’re pretty busy. Maybe we should talk later.”
“I will call Drew as soon as possible. I promise I will be there as soon as I can get out of here and get on a plane,” Kendall said. The misery of being somewhere she didn’t want to be right now and grief over Drew’s situation threatened to engulf her. “Bonnie, again, thanks so much for calling me.”
“I’m happy to do it, Kendall. We’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”
Two hours later, Kendall had spent a few minutes in the ladies’ room with a bottle of Visine, a hairbrush, and a lipstick. She was currently standing in front of an auditorium crammed with a couple of hundred media professionals, most of the Miners’ front office and coaching staff, and she glanced down at the notes Sydney had put in her hand fifteen minutes before.
She read the same statement she’d made in front of the gathered Miners’ staff earlier today and added the information that the Miners had been in touch with Rocky Hill’s victim and were assisting her with advocacy and medical care. In other words, the Miners were advised by their brand-new team attorney that they should offer Hill’s now ex-girlfriend a settlement and the assistance of an attorney to file a civil suit against Mr. Hill to recoup the costs of her medical care, but Kendall wasn’t going to mention that in public.
Kendall saw the file of the security camera footage from the hotel earlier that afternoon. It made her want to vomit, and then she wanted to scream. Even if she’d cut his ass when she originally wanted to, she wasn’t sure it would have helped, but now it was all about protecting the franchise from liability.
“The Miners have also made a donation to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Our organization is committed to doing what we can to assist women and children affected by domestic violence in our community.”
Those words were so empty. If the league was really committed to ending domestic violence, they’d stop signing guys who had been arrested and charged with a domestic violence related crime as early as college. One thing’s for sure: She wouldn’t sign a guy like this again. The team had known he had an arrest when they’d made him an offer. He swore he’d never do it again.
Words were cheap.
Kendall glanced out over the assembled crowd. “Are there any questions?”
There were questions, waving hands, and shouting from all over the room.
“Why didn’t you cut Hill after his last DV arrest?”
“Did anyone in your organization know he’d been arrested on a DV complaint in college?”
“Did the Miners require Hill to take anger management classes or work with a therapist after his last arrest?”
“As the only female GM in the league, do you consider Hill’s alleged behavior a personal failure?”
Kendall gripped the sides of the lectern and took the deepest breath she could with the invisible steel bands tightening around her chest. Damn right it was a “personal failure.”
She unstuck her hands long enough to pick up the bottle of water in front of her and take a sip. She knew Hill’s victim had signed paperwork holding the team blameless when she accepted the financial settlement that had been hammered out in less than an hour earlier in the afternoon, but she also knew her next comments were most likely not going to be well-received by anyone with the Miners.
She nodded at the sports reporter from Yahoo that had shouted out the question about her being the only female GM. “I’ll answer your question, but I’d like everyone to have a seat first.” She waited until the rustling of two hundred-plus people sitting down stopped. The only sound she heard was the clicking of cameras. She took another breath, willed herself to be calm, and looked into the TV cameras.
“Yes. I consider what allegedly happened in Las Vegas this morning between a former Miners player and his girlfriend to be a personal failure. I have already spoken with her and offered my heartfelt apology as well as an apology from the organization. Mr. Hill has been charged with this type of incident before. I urged the team to part ways with him at that time. I was overruled.” She forced herself to breathe. “As a team executive and as a woman, I don’t want anyone playing for the Miners who believes it’s appropriate to—allegedly, of course—hit a woman. When we all continue to ignore these incidents or excuse them because the guy’s a ‘great player’ or ‘irreplaceable,’ our words about stopping the spread of domestic violence or support for its victims are empty.” She shook her head. “This will not happen again on my watch. Maybe other franchises choose to turn a blind eye. I won’t.”
She glanced around the auditorium. “Next?”
It started slowly. She heard one pair of hands clapping, probably Sydney’s. More joined in. She felt a hand on her forearm. The Miners’ owner had stepped forward and stuck out his hand to shake hers. More cameras went off. She’d like to believe he supported her comments, but she knew it might be a different story when the cameras were off and they were alone in the team’s conference room. She wasn’t going to dwell on it now; she needed to answer questions, mop up, and get her ass on a plane.
When the press tired of asking questions about this morning’s incident, they turned their attention to the Miners’ struggles this season. Why would a team that won it all the year before find themselves at 3–5 midseason? How did she intend to patch the existing holes on the offensive and defensive lines? Did she believe the team would be able to address some of the more glaring needs on the roster through the draft, or were they planning on spending some money in free agency?
“Will the Miners be going after Drew McCoy of the Sharks on the offseason despite his injury?” a reporter in the back shouted.
“How will McCoy’s possible signing with the Miners affect your off-the-field relationship?” another reporter called out seconds later.
“The Miners are interested in Mr. McCoy, but we’ll also be taking a look at multiple free agents on the offseason. There are lots of games to be played this season before speculating on whom the team would like to sign for next year.”
“What about the fact you’re romantically involved with him?” A woman in the front barked out.
“No comment,” Kendall said. She heard several more reporters shouting questions about how both teams reacted to their relationship, etcetera. She gave those in the auditorium a nod. “Thanks, everyone. If we have further information, we’ll let you know.” She walked off of the small stage, pushed through the door leading to the corridor outside of her office, and took a deep breath for the first time in an hour.
“Ms. Tracy,” the Miners’ owner said from behind her. “I’d like to see you in the conference room, please.”
“Of course,” she said.
The team’s employees were going back to work all around her. She was surprised and gratified to get a few pats on the back, some handshakes, and “Good job, Kendall” from more than one of them. They all had no control over what the media would report on the issues facing the team, but she’d done her best to put a good face on it.
Kendall reached out for the conference room doorknob. The director of player personnel, Rod Carpenter’s, hand closed over it first. He glared at her.
“Hello,” she said to him.
“Hello to you, Ms. Tracy,” he said. “It was nice working with you.”
Her hand froze in mid-air. She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’re about to be fired.” Rod’s smile was smug. “I’m sure you’ll catch on somewhere else.”
She bit back the name she’d like to call him. She heaved a sigh, shoved the door open, and walked through it. The department heads were filing in. The owner gestured for her to sit in the chair at the head of the table. It was a bit of a surprise, but she accepted it. It took a fe
w minutes for everyone to be seated, and the owner got to his feet.
“When I walked into the building today, Kendall, I was considering buying your contract out and urging you to go to another team. The transition has been rough. I know you took this job because we were in a tight spot.” He tapped his fingertips on the table in front of him. “It wasn’t your first choice, either. I have been impressed, though, at your handling of situations the team has needed to face for a while now. I believe your actions today and your comments during today’s press conference defused a pretty explosive situation. That being said, I’d like you to stay on as GM. I’m happy to negotiate a mutually satisfactory salary and benefits package commensurate with your responsibilities, and you can make your own decisions as far as staff and assets.”
The room was silent. He stuck out his hand. “Will you accept?”
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
KENDALL STARED UP at him in shock. Either he was spooked over having nobody at all to run the team if she took one of the three offers she currently had on the table, or he’d heard from his lawyers, and it wasn’t good news. Mr. Curtis had never seemed especially supportive. She knew the other guys she worked with were probably bending his ear to hire one of them.
The other guys at the table were all staring at her too. Most looked disgusted. Sydney grinned at her. “Well, boss?” she said.
“I’m not taking the job unless you’re still here,” Kendall said to Sydney. The owner’s hand was still outstretched to her. “I have conditions,” she told him.
Mr. Curtis lowered his hand. “So we’ll need to talk a little before you can shake my hand and tell me you’ll stay.”
“Will I have the ability to make decisions about team and front office personnel without interference?”
“Yes.”
“I can hire and fire as I see fit,” Kendall said.
“Yes. It’s in the job description of a GM to do so.”
“Okay, then. Since I still hold the title, I’d like to start now.” Kendall grabbed her phone out of her pocket and sent the Miners’ network administrator a text:
Please disable Rod Carpenter’s Internet access/security passes ASAP. Text me when you’re finished.
“I’d like Sydney to stay, and I’m going to make it worth her while to do so.”
“I approve,” the owner said. The other guys at the table were still silent. One was fiddling with his phone. Kendall would almost bet her house he was currently accepting an offer from another team. “Anything else?”
Her phone chirped with an incoming text from the IT guy:
Done. Anything else?
She texted back:
Not right now. Thank you.
“I’d like to dismiss everyone from this meeting but Rod Carpenter and Mr. Curtis.”
“I have things to do,” Rod said. “I can’t sit here all day—”
“Sit down, Rod,” the owner said.
He dropped back into his chair. The other department heads filed out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them, and there were a few seconds of silence.
Kendall glanced down the table at Rod. “You’re fired. Please turn in your tablet, your corporate credit card, and the keys to your company car right now.”
“You can’t do this. You can’t fire me!” By now, he was up out of his chair and pointing at Kendall with a shaking finger. “She can’t fire me!” he told the owner. “She doesn’t have the authority. Tell her!”
The Miners’ owner shook his head. Kendall dialed zero on the conference room phone. “Please send security in here to help Mr. Carpenter clean out his desk and escort him out of the building. I want him off the property as quickly as possible.”
He was still ranting. “I’ve been with this organization for ten years now! I know everything, and I won’t hesitate to use that knowledge! You can’t fire me!”
Two uniformed San Francisco police officers entered the room, got on either side of him, took his arms, and hauled him out of his chair. They marched him out of the room.
“Forget helping him clean out his desk. We’ll do it,” Kendall called after them. “Let’s get him out of here as quickly as possible.”
A few minutes later, Rod was in a cab headed home, and Kendall turned to face Mr. Curtis. “There are a few other things I’d like to talk with you about.”
“I thought so,” he said. He held out one arm. “Lead the way, Ms. Tracy.”
DREW AWOKE IN his dimly lit and quiet hospital room to his mom’s hand on his good shoulder.
“Honey, I’m sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to go back to your house for the night. Your dad’s falling asleep. Will you be okay without me for a few hours?”
“I’m fine, Bonnie,” his dad insisted.
“You can’t sleep in that recliner, and you know it. You’ll be in traction by morning.”
His dad let out a snort. His mom kissed Drew’s forehead.
“Mom, the nurses are here. I’ll be fine,” he said. “You and Dad need some sleep. Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?”
His house was only twenty minutes from the hospital, but it was late. He knew his mom would sit up all night fussing over him, no matter how many times he told her he was fine and she should go to sleep. Plus, the hide-a-bed thing in the corner of his room didn’t look comfortable. They needed some rest. He’d be fine overnight.
“Your dad is sleepy. I’ll drive. I’ll ask the nurse to come in here and check on you,” she said. “We’ll be back in the morning. I promise.” She smoothed the hair off his forehead with a gentle hand. “We love you, honey.”
“I love you too. Call me when you get to my house so I know you made it safely, okay? Owen left some stuff in the fridge for you in case you’re hungry.”
His mom shook her head. “He didn’t have to do that. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
His dad shook his good hand, his mom blew him a kiss, and they left.
An hour or so later, he wasn’t sure why the nurses hadn’t been in yet to check on him. Maybe his mom bribed them to let him sleep. He hit the button to sit up a bit in his bed. The window showed full-on darkness outside. In other words, he’d been pretty much out since he had the graham crackers and apple juice post-surgery. He was hungry as hell. An experimental nudge of his shoulder made him clench his teeth in pain. The anesthesia had worn off. He needed a bathroom. And food. And some pain medication. He wasn’t sure which was more urgent, but he wasn’t going to be able to get these items for himself. He located the nurse’s call button in the sheets and gave it a gentle press.
Another dark-haired nurse walked into the room thirty seconds later. “I see you’ve finally decided to join us,” she said with a big grin.
“I wondered what my mom said to you.”
“She’s a very persuasive woman,” the nurse said. “Let me guess what you want right now. What’s your pain level from one to ten?”
“It’s an eight,” he said through clenched teeth. “I also need to visit the men’s room.”
“Well, alrighty then,” she said, and he almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. “Let’s see what I can do for you here.” She crossed the room almost silently to wash her hands in the attached bathroom. She stepped out into the hall for a moment, engaged in some elaborate pantomime with another nurse, and came back into his room with a syringe of what he was guessing was pain medication. “I’ll put this in your IV first, and then we’ll get you a portable urinal. Will that work?”
“I guess. Do you all have something I could eat?”
“I’ll get to it. Don’t worry,” she said. “We refrigerated your dinner, so there’s always that option.” The nurse harpooned the IV line with the needle and slowly depressed the syringe’s plunger.
“I’m guessing a Dick’s burger is out,” Drew joked.
“It’s almost one AM, my friend. Dick’s has gone home for the night.” She finished administering the pain meds and produced a portable urinal. “Will t
his do, or do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”
“I’ll take that,” he said. He let out a sigh as the plastic container vanished beneath the sheet and blanket covering him. “May I ask you a somewhat weird question?”
“I’ll bet you’re going to ask me if it’s freaky to touch some guy’s junk I’m not sleeping with.”
“Well, yeah. Plus, I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m guessing your normal policy is to know a woman’s name before she starts getting grabby with Mr. Happy.” She grinned at him. “My name’s Cheryl. And to answer your question, it’s part of my job. Obviously, I can’t say anything about yours to anyone else due to HIPAA laws, but if that wasn’t the case, I’d be telling the other nurses that you’re well-endowed,” she teased.
He had to laugh. “That would help me get a few dates,” he said.
“I don’t think you have a problem getting dates, Mr. McCoy,” she said. She extracted the plastic receptacle from beneath his sheet and blanket and disposed of it before turning to face him again. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Is that so?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Whatever she gave him was starting to work. Maybe he didn’t need to eat after all right now. His eyes slid closed, and Cheryl’s voice sounded like it was coming from a long distance away. She was taking his blood pressure and his temperature. Again.
“Okay, Drew. You take a little nap, and buzz me when you wake up again. I’ll make sure you’ll get something to eat.”
“Thank you,” he tried to say. He wasn’t sure if he spoke aloud or not. He floated on an almost pain-free cloud of warmth and comfort.
DREW FELT A soft hand taking his and a whispered, “Baby, I’m here.”
“Mmpht,” he said. He smelled green apples. He was dreaming about Kendall. If he opened his eyes, she’d be gone, and he’d be alone. In the midst of the fuzz of being half-asleep and the pain medication, he felt someone lie down next to him in the bed. He felt soft hair brush his chin as she laid her head on his good shoulder and breathed in her sweet fragrance. Shit, it felt so real. He didn’t want to wake up and discover it wasn’t.
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