Page 69 of Sexting the Coach
The arena is, thankfully, quiet. There’s an away game today, and the guys left last night, their flight touching down withenough time for the team to get acclimated before the game. It means the only people in the Squids complex today are the staff.
Maybe I imagine it, but it feels like the heavy weight of several pairs of eyes follow me down the hallway as I make my way to the HR office. I shy away from every other woman who looks at me, feeling like they might sense the truth about my condition through some sort of feminine telepathy.
“Thank you so much for coming in,” a tall blond woman says, meeting me at the desk the moment I arrive. She’s dressed in an impeccable pantsuit, her hair perfectly straight, and I realize I’m under dressed in my Squids polo. “I’m Quinn Smith, head of HR.”
There’s no waiting, even though I’m fifteen minutes early, and she leads me to an office in the back straightaway, clearing her throat and gesturing for me to take a seat.
There are three other HR people here. She introduces them to me, and I immediately forget their names. Tamra from PR stands at the end of the row, and she offers me a small, thin smile when I meet her eyes.
I’m definitely getting fired.
You don’t have to be a genius to know that four HR professionals at a single meeting is not a good sign. I steel myself, getting ready to look at the employee handbook, for Quinn to gently remind me that attendance is very important here.
“Did you have a good drive over? Was traffic bad? I heard the rain was slowing things down.”
She makes small talk as she thumbs through her papers, and I want to rip my hair out, but I manage to stay calm. Tell her that the traffic was fine, that I had good holidays—which only makes me think about Weston—and we discuss the construction on the other side of the arena.
Finally, with a small sigh, she glances down at the papers in front of her and up at me, her expression turning more serious.
“Ms. Montgomery,” Quinn says, “I’m sure you probably have some idea of why we asked you here today.”
“…it’s to do with my attendance,” I say, clearing my throat and shifting in my chair. “And I know that it’s been extensive, but I’ve followed all the protocol for prolonged illness?—”
“No, no,” Quinn says, waving her hand, frowning down at the paperwork in front of her. “You’re right—you’ve done everything right. We have your doctor’s note here. We’re not going to fire you, Elsie.”
“Oh,” I let out a breath, deflatingt, but as quickly as the relief comes, it’s gone. Why bring me in if they’re not planning on firing me. “So…what’s going on?”
“Well,” Quinn clears her throat and shifts in her seat, her eyes darting to the ceiling for a moment before landing on me. “It’s come to our attention that Mr. Wolfe’s relationship with you might not be…fully appropriate.”
“What?” the word snaps out of me too fast. I realize instantly that it makes me look guilty—or makes Weston look guilty?—and I real in my reaction, sitting up taller, shaking my head, trying to look older than I feel in this moment. “No, we came to you, documented everything?—”
“Elsie,” Quinn’s voice is gentle as she reaches across the table laying her hand palm-down. Her nails are perfectly manicured. “I’m sure you realize our interest in protecting this team, and making sure absolutely nothing untoward was going on. After what happened with Coach Morton, we can’t take any chances. You understand that, right?”
I swallow, nod. “I do.”
“Well, some additional information about the nature of your relationship with him has come to our attention,” Quinn says, and I can’t read into her expression, can’t figure out what thatadditional informationmight be. “So, I need you to answer this question for me completely honestly—has Weston Wolfe been taking advantage of you?”
My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I can’t hear myself think. I wish Weston was here right now, or even Hattie or Mabel, so I wouldn’t be staring these people down on my own. At what point will I really start to feel like an adult? Nearly twenty-six, and I need someone here with me. I almost wish I had a lawyer present.
After everything that happened with Morton, and everything that’s continued to happen, with him dating girls young enough to be his granddaughter, the Squids are worried about image. Worried that this thing might blow up even bigger than that. And it makes sense—not only are people going to be weird about the age gap thing, but the people who supported us before are probably going to feel betrayed. Like the Squids are putting on a show.
Realistically, they were. They asked us to go along with this, to make those public appearances. When originally, my only goal was to make sure Karlee didn’t think Weston was taking advantage of me. This entire thing came from a single moment, the possibility that he could be fired.
What was the point of going through all this, if he ends up losing his job anyway?
Quinn Smith was hired to replace the HR director before her, who fumbled the situation with Morton and those interns. Tamra sits at the end of the table, her gaze solidifying what I know to be true.
This isn’t just about protecting the organization, it’s about protecting itsreputation. They can’t survive another allegation against a head coach.
From the look on Quinn’s face, I’m reading that no matter what I say, or how I answer this question, they’re going to play it safe anyway. They’re going to fire Weston. I know it in my bones.
“Okay,” I say, letting out a breath, nodding, looking at each of them. “I’ll talk to you, but I’m going to need something from HR, first.”
They all lean forward, ready to hear what I have to say.
And I know what I have to do.
Chapter 30
