Page 152 of On Merit Alone
“If it’s about the team, we’re working out our kinks,” I said. He didn’t react, so I went on blindly trying to read his mind. “And if it’s about the image issue, Ryan said there doesn’t seem to be much of a problem. And with the charity events coming up, he guarantees that’s going to boost the team's image with the community regardless of basketball standings.”
His face fell, gaining color. “Yes, but we pay you to win basketball games now, don’t we?”
“But you were the one concerned about what my actions were doing to the team's image. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be doing half of these things and Ry wouldn’t have come up with the charity events,” I said, confused at him talking in circles. “Is that not the case anymore?
“Itisthe case,” he said, getting flustered. “But if we would have just done itmyway, it would have been much better and maybe your attention could be more focused on your job rather than flipping your skirt for the men’s team.”
Okay. He was making less and less sense the more we talked.
I mean, I couldn’t win with this guy. It was like he was out to get me no matter what I said, and there was a difference between sucking it up and taking criticism and simply taking a beating. He was not entitled to verbally abuse me just because he was my boss. And boss or not, I didn't have to take it sitting down.
“I play basketball, sir. I wear shorts.” My face burned. I was done with this, respectfully. “Plus, all these interviews,‘image boosters’, they’re distractions. They're taking away from the facts. Youdopay me to win basketball games, and likable or not, I’m winning more of those than the Dynamite did all season last year. I’m performing, Rob. So I don’t understand the problem.”
“Ice Queen.”
They were the exact last combination of words I never expected him to say. But there he went, saying them anyway.
I swallowed. “Excuse me?”
“Have you heard that name before? Ice Queen?” he went on. “They’re talking about you, the biggest Ice Queen in the whole organization. And as someone who’s trying to steer this team to the top, not only on the court but also with our… marketability, you pose a huge problem for me, Ms. Jones.”
Realization felt thick and gross and so fucking infuriating as it slid over me. I guffawed, humorless laughter dripping from my mouth. “You hate me because I don't smile enough? Because I'm not palatable?”
“I like the word marketable,” he corrected. “Marketability makes money.”
“You know what else makes money?Winning,” I scoffed, incredulous. “Or are you just interested in a team of smiling dolls?”
That was a joke, but the smug way he smiled was disgusting. “That would be preferable.”
My lip curled. “You are supposed to be better than this. You have an entire team of women whotrustyou.”
He shrugged. “They should learn from your example. Keep things tight and they won't have anything to worry about.”
I took a step forward. I think I was growling at this point. “Rob?—”
“Is there a problem here?” a voice said from down the hall.
I looked up at the familiar sound. I was both relieved and nervous that he was here and might have actually heard all of that. When I looked up at his face, though, I felt nothing but safety.
Ira had just come from the alcove of the men’s locker room entrance and was making his way toward me and my boss with long strides. His hard expression said he’d indeed heard Rob, and the stark set of his shoulders said he didn’t like it one bit. He was beside me in a second, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black pants as he looked down at our opponent.
Rob seemed to blanch for a second before he collected himselfand stammered, “King. I didn’t know you came to the Mites games.”
Between us, he extended his hand to shake. Ira just looked at it for a pointed amount of time before sliding his unimpressed gaze up to Rob’s face. “I’m here every week. They’re a good team.”
I tried to elbow him discreetly, but he just turned his gaze on me. It was hard. Serious.Angry. And when he looked back at my boss, it was with that same mask of unimpressed impassiveness.
Tucking my chin a little, I said quickly, “Rob, you know Ira.”
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet,” he said in a much nicer tone than he had with me.
He extended his hand again, apparently not giving up, and after a sidelong glance at me, Ira shook it while supplying a heavily sarcastic, “Pleasure.”
There was a beat of silence.Awkwardsilence. It wasn't like Rob and I could continue our previous conversation and Ira wasn’t offering anything to make the situation less strained. He just stood there staring down my boss, his gaze unrelenting.
Rob tried, “Great run in the playoffs this year, King. You really know how to lead a team to victory.”
Was it just me, or was that as backhanded as it sounded?
