Page 102 of Full Split
Weston sucks in a breath. Niles drops his head.
Brianne holds my gaze for a long, heavy beat. And then she nods curtly.
“That’s nice. Fail to follow through on any of that, and I’ll bury you under the next new build my office brokers.”
“Mom!”
She snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine. I’m mostly giving you shit.”
I huff out a disbelieving breath. I’m not sure I’m ready to laugh about it just yet.
“I deserved that.”
“I’m not saying that I agree with the way things came about, or that either of you kept it a secret. But if there’s one thing I trust, it’s that Niles knows himself and what he wants out of life. If you’re the one he chooses, I’ll accept it. And I know that you’re a good man. So I’ll give it my blessing.”
She looks a little teary-eyed, and I want to reach out and hug her or squeeze her hand, but I’m not sure if we’re there yet. Instead, I just bow my head in thanks and look over at her son, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in affirmation.
We’re okay.
We walk into the USAG quarters as a group, ready for battle. Niles looks sharp in his suit and tie. Everyone does, actually. We came to make an impression, and the eleven of us here today certainly do that.
Now let’s just hope it’s enough.
I’m confident in our plan, but this will make or break the next chapter of Niles’ and Weston's lives. Nerves are catching up.
Ms. Worth walks with purpose, her strides long and sure, and the receptionist jumps up to escort us to the conference room without even asking who we are. She tells us to have a seat anywhere we like, and that the Directors will be right with us.
The room looks like it was designed to make people feel small. A long conference table, high ceilings, and walls painted a neutral color that feels cold and sterile. It’s clinical in a very corporate way.
As soon as the receptionist is gone, Ms. Worth instructs us to stay standing. Each of us stands behind a chair along one side of the large conference table to wait. We have a great group of people here today, including five of Weston and Niles’ teammates. It was a genius move to have them here with us today, and we have signed statements from almost every other member of the team who were unable to be here today.
There are only three members of the team who wished toremain neutral. There’s a phrase for remaining neutral when lines have been drawn, but now we know who their true friends are, andwhich teammates to avoid interacting with when possible. Niles still has the vast majority of his team behind him.
I understand why the lawyer had us all remain standing together when the USAG team comes into the room. We look like a united front. By remaining standing, we don’t look intimidated or give the impression that they hold the power. There are just as many of them as there are of us. And since they were probably only expecting three of us, I’m sure they thought they could intimidate us with their show of power.
Well played, Ms. Worth.
After exchanging some obligatory pleasantries, everyone takes a seat. The moment butts touch leather, the silence and chilly atmosphere intensify.
The full Board of Directors sits across from us, along with a handful of legal staff, and two members of the public relations team. Their expressions are unreadable, practiced. If I had to guess, they’ve already decided how this meeting is going to go.
But they haven’t met Millie Worth.
She sits confidently between Weston and Niles, her leather-bound portfolio closed neatly in front of her. I’m next to Weston, with Mik on my other side. Next to him is Vickie Cole and Brandon Isaacs. Sid is on the other side of Niles. Cody Jenkins, Rina Landry, and Shane Linz fill out his side.
Ms. Worth clears her throat. “Right, well, I’ll get started then. Thank you for making time to meet with us today. I understand we all have tight schedules, so I’ll be brief. We’re here to ensure the fair and equal treatment of all members of your national team, most notably Niles Pruitt, your current highest scoring, gold medal gymnast.”
The woman at the center of the boardroom table, the current president of USAG, folds her hands on the table.
“And how is it that we can help Mr. Pruitt?”
She manages to balance a line of pretending to give a shit, while also remaining neutral enough to sound bored.
Ms. Worth doesn’t acknowledge her. She doesn’t thank her. She just nods and flips open her folder.
“There has been a significant breach of privacy and ethical conduct stemming from the circulation of a tabloid article about Mr. Pruitt?—”
“That has nothing to do with us,” a man from the public relations team cuts in.
