Page 186 of Scoring the Player
Hear the steel-hoofed drum of wild horses.
Jet entrails rumble the sky, roaring voices.
“Sir, Arnaz Cade.” The GM’s assistant announces my arrival.
“Cade, get in here,” Ari replies, seated at the head of a polished conference table with Coach on his left and Aiden on his right. “Take a seat.”
“No HR or union rep,” I observe.
“It’s not that kind of meeting. Take a seat, please,” he insists, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down.
“I’m good.” I stand at the other end of the table. “What’s this about?”
“Before you bust our balls, we know the articles are fabricated,” Coach pipes in. “You’re here because we need a plan to smooth this over as quickly as possible. Elizabeth is stuck in traffic, but she’s on the call.”
“Hey, Arnaz.” The voice of the Royals’ PR director filters through the speakerphone centered on the table.
“Liz.”
“As you know, the Royals have a strict workplace conduct policy that discourages any relationships between staff—including coaches and players—that may cause a conflict of interest, disruption to the team, or pose potential legal issues,” Ari says.
I cross my arms. “Why the policy reminder if you know the article’s fabricated?”
“Yeah, Ari,” Liz replies as he glares at the table, yanking his tie loose. “What the hell?”
His resting corporate asswipe face crumbles. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands. “I haven’t had a good night’s rest since baby number one. Baby number three has colic, and my GERD is fired up.” He tightens, then loosens his fist. “So, I’m hanging on by a thread without my Americano. Please sit.” He nods toward the chair. “We want to help.”
I drag out a breath and then fold into the seat in front of me.
“Let’s game plan, shall we?” Coach adds.
“Hold on.” I nod to Aiden, who casts me a wary glance. “You good? Did I out you?”
“N-no,” he replies. “I, uh, thought I made it harder for you.”
“How?” I uncross my arms. “Everyone knows I’m gay.”
“We know Aiden’s bi,” Coach chimes in. “Not that it’s anyone’s goddamn business.”
“Something told me you might be seeing someone,” Aiden answers.
Oh…yeah.
I lean my elbows against the table and scrub my hands over my face.
“What’s happening?” Liz asks. “Why’d everyone go quiet?”
“Cade’s lookin’ like he could use damage control in his romantic life,” Coach says.
“Oh no,” Liz replies. “Can I help?”
I’m about to clarify that there is noromanticlife, but I catch myself.
Denying who Salem is and what he means to me is part of the reason we got here.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been dating someone. I don’t want to go into details,” I admit.
“I knew it!” Coach exclaims.
