Page 122 of Slap Shot Scandal
A few of the guys nod, their faces relaxing. Prince stops thrumming and Coach Keller shifts in his seat.
Everything’s under control.
“Questions?” I glance around the room, every eye pinned on me.
Morrison raises his hand. “So what do I tell my sponsors? One of them DM’d me this morning. Do we just act like nothing happened?”
“Great question…” I pause, twisting my bracelets. “You can tell them the matter’s being handled. Nothing to worry about.”
“Cool.” He tips his chin at me, and I shove down the sick feeling in my stomach.
None of these guys deserve this. They’re out there busting their asses and one stupid video could tank everything for them. Their sponsors, their livelihood.
“Anything else?” I glance around the room, checking for questions. No one else raises their hand, so I step away from the podium and Keller takes my spot.
“Practice Monday morning, seven sharp. Don’t be late.” Then he stalks out of the conference room without another word.
Players file out, some of them in hushed conversation. No one stops to talk to me, a few shooting me sideways glances.
Cheeks burning, I act like I don’t notice.
“Harbor—” Tori’s at my side, her French-manicured hand on my elbow. My mouth goes dry, pulse rate instantly skyrocketing.
“Hey…”
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes search mine. Woman to woman, for one brief second, and I nod.
“I’m fine.”
“Good. You did your job. But there’s more to the clean-up, as I’m sure you know.”
I swallow, my lips pinched in a tight line.
“Sponsors are asking Daddy pointed questions. About team leadership and whether management can control the situation. I’d hate to see careers destroyed over poor judgment.”
Straightening my shoulders, I resist the urge to crumple under her pointed stare.
“Understood.”
“Have a great day.”
Then she spins and exits the room, her stilettos clicking on the linoleum floor.
Right behind her is Prince.
“Good speech. Now let’s deliver.”
His tone’s firm, clipped. And I’ve never felt more judged in my entire life.
“Absolutely, sir. I’m on it.”
He smacks my shoulder, shooting me a tight smile. “You’re a Hayes. I’m sure you are.”
I try not to flinch as he brings up my father.
You’re not worthy of the Hayes name.
