Page 5 of Playing for Possession
I gripped my clammy hands together and pinned them on my lap to stop them from fluttering. “Gosh... No... I would never... That’s not what I meant... I just think someone else would do it better.”
“We’ve discussed this. It makes sense to send an injured player.”
I took a breath and tried to calm my racing pulse. “I understand. It’s a rational decision, but there are others who would appreciate this opportunity.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t appreciate the opportunity?”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. It’s just... this isn’t really my thing.”
Her scrutinizing gaze made my cheeks grow hot. Now she took me for ungrateful. I couldn’t win. I turned my face to the window. The idea of performing on camera made my teeth itch, and a commercial wouldn’t do me any favors. Everyone would assume that Dad had leaned on his connections to make it happen. Theyprobably already thought that’s how I’d got my spot on the team. Special treatment would only add fuel to the fire.
The men were warming up on the training pitches outside. I couldn’t take my eyes from Kieran Earnshaw weaving skillfully between defenders and flicking the ball toward the goal. I’d never dream of talking to a manager with the audacity he had. Then again, he looked the type who wouldn’t even flinch on a roller coaster.
Of course there would be no consequences for walking out of that meeting. Players with Kieran’s track record did whatever they wanted. That was the difference between us and them. The men got away with every kind of bad behavior: partying, womanizing, disrespect, poor sportsmanship. As long as they kept scoring goals, management kissed the ground they walked on. How could Claire expect me to do this commercial with Kieran Earnshaw, of all people? There had to be a way out. Whatever it took.
A sharp knock sounded. Claire frowned. She wouldn’t welcome an interruption. The door swung open and Dad stepped inside. My heart sank. I loved my dad dearly but he was the last person I wanted to see at work.
Claire lifted an unimpressed brow. “Mortimer? What can I do for you?”
Dad beamed and adjusted the leopard-print silk scarf that circled his tattooed neck. A velvet midnight-blue blazer wrapped around his lithe frame, and his trademark skinny leather jeans clung so tight it looked like they’d been sprayed on. Dad had been a rock icon back in the day. Shame he’d spent the eighties so addled on booze and drugs he could hardly recall a minute of them.
“Nothing, just popping in to see my Joanie Jett before I head home.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. How many times did I have to tell him not to call me that at work? There was no reason for himto be at the club. The board of directors met every month, but Dad was always lurking around, embarrassing me at every opportunity.
I tried to keep my voice polite, despite my agitation. “What do you want, Dad? I’m in a meeting with my manager.”
Dad smoothed a hand over his hair. It was thick and lustrous after the hair transplant. He’d been making a special effort ever since the band had announced the reunion tour.
He perched on the edge of the desk. “What are you having a meeting about?”
Claire rested back in her chair. The team was pretty tolerant of my dad, but Claire had a short fuse. We had approximately five seconds before she blew a gasket.
I got up and escorted Dad to the door. I dropped my voice to a whisper. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
Dad shrugged me off and inclined his head toward Claire. “Are you talking about the commercial?”
Claire flashed a tight smile. Gabe had probably drilled her to be nice to Dad. Mortimer Fox owned a stake in the club. It wasn’t as if Claire could kick him out.
Dad smiled amiably and drifted back toward the desk. “It’s going to be great. Joanie’s been so bored this past couple of months. It’s been tough with the injury.” Dad’s eyes flickered with that determined glint they got when he was meddling in things that didn’t concern him. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. We all are.”
I felt the weight of Claire’s stare burning into me. She’d probably expected me to quit after the injury. That’s what people would assume of Mortimer Fox’s daughter—a fragile nepo-baby ready to crumble at the first hurdle.
I sat back down and held my hands up. “I’m fine. No one needs to worry about me.”
Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders and adopted a soft, cajoling voice. “I know how much you love being part of a team.”He gave me a squeeze. “You just need a positive attitude. Keep a smile on your face and the world will smile back. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
I took a deep breath to soothe my irritation. Hard to stay positive when the future was so uncertain. It had taken everything I had to get through those first codeine-fogged weeks after the second surgery. I’d had to learn to walk again after the graft. That was a black hole I never wanted to know again. Every time Dad caught me looking upset, he’d tell me to smile. It wasn’t enough that I was in pain, I also had to look happy about it, or risk Dad clucking around me like a mother hen. He was only trying to help, but sometimes this man was too much.
I gritted my teeth. Bickering with my dad in front of my no-nonsense manager was not a good look. Claire sighed and dropped the paperwork back on the desk. She’d miscalculated Dad if she thought he would care whether she pretended to be busy.
“Actually, we have a problem with the commercial. Kieran Earnshaw is refusing to do it. The sponsor won’t budge. They want him or no one,” Claire said.
Oh, thank goodness.This was my way out, and it wasn’t my fault. It was all on Kieran Earnshaw. Judging from the way he’d carried on in that meeting, I’d bet anything he was stubborn enough not to give any ground.
I tried to sound disappointed. “Such a shame. I’m sure it would have been great.”
Claire’s penetrating gaze met mine. I shrunk back into my chair.Too much.
