Page 88 of Renegade Ruin

“So, you’re saying you can get behind the rest but Cohen is a hard no.” It’s a stretch but if I can get them to agree to everything else, I can work on getting an exemption for Cohen through the league in the coming years.

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Benjamin continues at the same time, Mr. Fios and Mr. Baker chime in, “It’s franchise suicide” and “this is insane”.

“Enough,” Patrick Kincade bellows from the center of the screen, and immediately the entire room, both present and not, goes quiet.

A man nearly triple my age with white hair and receding hairline, he’s a member of the executive board filling an advisor role. He’s been with the Renegades since before my father took over and practically wrote the book for our business model. In this franchise, he’s the sort of man that people listen to when he speaks, and unfortunately for me, he’s got nothing but archaic ways of thinking to share.

“Ms. York,” Patrick begins, his tone patronizing, “in one meeting you have managed to turn this entire organization into a shit show.”

I grimace but keep my shoulders back despite wanting to crumble under his scrutinizing observation.

“Your youthful approach, while refreshing, is not the way business is conducted. I’m not saying you don’t have the start ofsomegood ideas, but this team has a legacy of its own to protect, and right now,youare its biggest threat. You’ve run a successful philanthropy, which is to be commended, but this is not a frat party or whatever you are trying to turn it into.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he gives me a slicing gaze as he throws his hand up, wagging a silencing pointer fingerat me. It’s reminiscent of the way my mother used to muzzle me with one pointed look when I would argue I wasn’t her doll to control.

Then and now, I’m reduced to feeling like nothing more than a child to be disciplined, and as a result, fail to do more than comply.

“This is a prestigious team,” Patrick continues. “One that was on its way to a pennant run before tragedy struck. We are willing to entertain your ideas and even concede on some of them, if you are willing to meet us halfway and agree to some of the requests you’ve avoided. But understand this. You will not have the support of this board or your upper management if you continue on the road you’re on. I suggest you think long and hard about your whimsical ideals and come to the right conclusion.”

The audacity of this man.

And the worst part is, I have no doubt every single person—save for Nikki—agrees. This boys’ club will never give any of my ideas a chance. They’ll agree to the smallest bullet points and demand I fall in line.

If I was a man, they’d pat me on the back and meet me in the middle. They’d praise me as an entrepreneur, but all they see when they look at me is the same thing that Vaughn does—I’m nothing but a pampered princess who couldn’t possibly know anything.

I chew the inside of my lower lip to stop it from trembling. The urge to argue wars with the instinct to back down and live to fight another day. I want to be the one who makes a difference and inspires change. But I’m only one person, and given the outrage from Patrick and the board, I don’t know if it’s enough.

An uncomfortable silence washes over the room as heads slowly shift to see my reaction. I don’t want to let them win, but what can I do? I could fire them all and start new, but that will only shatter my standing with the league, and I don’t exactly have friends in the industry who are willing to rush to my side and help pick up the pieces with only the hope of creating something great.

These plans were always a risk and maybe I bit off more than I can chew, but I believe in what I’m trying to do here. I just need more time to get the board to agree and somehow avoid becoming their glorified puppet.

“What do you want from me?” I ask genuinely, even though I know they are going to demand more than I can give.

Patrick once again speaks for the group, and a spike of jealousy rips through me. It must be nice to know everyone will fall in line behind you. “I agree. We need to step up our social media and marketing and bring the team into the modern age. The giveaways and fan space are a good goal to look into, but taking funds to expand our portfolio to hotels and event spaces out of the stadium is out of the question, as is bringing in a controversial player we can’t afford. Our focus needs to be on maintaining what we have and who we are. That means embracing the tragedy of the crash and using that to our advantage. You have already railroaded us once by adjusting the gala to not include the children of the victims of the crash.”

I protest, “But they?—”

“That being said, I have spoken to members of this board, and we believe the best way to move forward is to livestream the gala and require the entire team to attend instead of just our top players. Doing so will set us apart from other teams in the league. In addition, during the gala, we have organized a concurrent press event in which you and Bishop Lawson will sit down for an interview with Tanner Phillips ofThe Foul Lineand ensure that everyone knows we are a team and one to be reckoned with.”

I fist my hands against the wood of the table and shake my head. “Bishop will never go for that.”

Nor am I going to let them use him like that. He is finally beginning to see the new guys as his team. In just the week I’ve been gone, he’s taken Carson to The Guardian, and he’s makingthe effort to talk to the other players and get to know them. I’ve seen a change in him I never expected. He’s letting people in. Me included. I refuse to let the board take advantage of him like this. He might be the only surviving member of the team we lost standing on the field, but he’s not a pawn to be sacrificed.

“You’ll make him,” Patrick states, as if the answer is simple. “From what I hear, you have the best rapport with him.”

“And if I don’t agree to this?” The weight of his stare is enough to let me know he’s not asking. Shit, he reminds me so much of my mother it’s scary.

“I don’t make idle threats, Ms. York. You are a small fish in a big pond. One in which you know nothing about. We are here to guide you, but don’t mistake that as you being in charge. This organization has worked as a well-oiled machine, and even if you were to let every single one of us go, we know the skeletons hidden in every closet from here back to New York.”

He’s careful not to say he’d ruin this team, but that’s exactly what he’s threatening. It's exactly what I was worried about and why I haven’t proposed any major staffing changes to the executive board. Still, I can’t help but wonder what skeletons he’s referring to and if any of them are just waiting to bite me in the ass.

I look out the windows of the conference room to the empty practice field, defeat weighing on my shoulders. My father wouldn’t have wanted this. I can’t say for certain he would have loved my plans, but there’s no way he would agree with this. He believed this team was family. And while the Yorks might have had a fucked up version of what that looked like, he always made sure the Renegades were solid.

But it’s just me now.

“I’ll do the interview,” I murmur, turning back to face the firing squad that is my board of executives, “but I can’t speak for Bishop.”

Patrick’s jaw tightens, and for a moment I think he’s about to lose his composure, but then he takes a breath and calmly states. “That’s not good enough. He’s the only survivor on the field. People want his story. I suggest you find a way to persuade him if you don’t want us to overrule your changes for the gala and go with our original plan.”

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