Page 5 of False Play
“Interesting comment. Do you offer this level of professional critique to the men, too, or am I just lucky?” My voice was high-pitched—sarcasm on full swing.
“Women like you don’t belong in positions like that, and we both know it.”
It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. “Keep the hits coming, Matty. I’m assembling a bingo card of outdated gender stereotypes. Is this the part where you tell me how heels affect women’s leadership skills?” I asked, crossing my arms while tapping my four-inch heels against the tiles with a sardonic smile.
He ground his teeth and shot me a menacing glare that was supposed to intimidate me, but it only managed to make me laugh.
The devil may work hard, but I worked harder.
I’d been told many things throughout my life.
That I was too much of a bitch.
Too eager and desperate to climb the corporate ladder.
Too uptight for my own good.
You name it—I’d probably heard it.
Would I have preferred to be left alone and to my own devices?Yes.
But people like him helped me develop the thickest of skins in this messed-up, misogynistic world. While I knew being the bigger person and rising above the jabs was the proper—and better—approach, there was something so satisfying about staring a mediocre man dead in the eyes and matching his small-dick energy.
“Always atreattalking to you,” I said with an exaggerated wink before turning around.
The room quieted as the coaches from both teams strode into the room with their star center forwards.
Anderson’s left eye was beginning to shut, and the bruises on his knuckles were more visible, too. My eyes landed on Holt, and I instinctively cringed at the sight of him. The beating he got was something to be concerned about. Both of his eyes were swollen, as well as his nose, and it seemed they had to give him a few stitches on his bottom lip.
Both teams needed to do some serious damage control.
Unrelenting nerves flowed through me as Holt took a seat. He was the kind of player who was adored by the media. All he needed to do was flash his boyish smile and the crowd would eat it up. But Jack Holt was a loose cannon in the making, especially after provoking Anderson tonight. Not that I had a leg to stand on; it wasn’t like Anderson was any better. One of his favorite things to do was be sassy with reporters every chance he got. To his credit, they deserved it most of the time. Reporters loved talking to these players like they weren’t actual human beings.
To many, players were only stats. It was the way the business unfortunately functioned.
The cameras started rolling, and one of the reporters quickly directed the first question to Jack Holt. “Rough game tonight for the Jaguars, Holt. But we’re wondering, as the newly appointed captain, how can people trust you’ll be able to lead the team to a win after what transpired tonight?”
The menacing laugh Holt barked made my shoulders tense. “The team chose me for a reason. My ability to lead us to a win has nothing to do with petty fights.” He shrugged as he leaned back on his chair. “And you forget I wasn’t the one who started it. We all knowhisreputation.”
Anderson grazed his teeth with his tongue, trying to keep his smirk in check.
I shot him a sharp look with a quick shake of my head. He needed to keep it together. It was obvious Holt was trying to get to him with any cheap shots he could think of.
The reporter aimed the next question at Anderson. “What happened tonight, man?”
He relaxed on his chair with a shrug. “This is hockey, fighting happens.”
Okay. Not the worst answer. I could work with this.
The reporter nodded, but I didn’t miss the evil glint in his eyes. “Yeah, but you’ve been doing good for these past three years. People thought you had finally settled with the Strikers, and now tonight, you lost it.”
Holt snorted a mocking laugh. “What else is new? We all know his favorite pastime is ruining his father’s amazing legacy.”
Anderson’s jaw ticked as his eyes flickered with emotion. Irritation, maybe?
Vulnerability.
That couldn’t be it. The media had always talked about how different he was from his father. It was aconstanttopic in the sports world. Why would that have bothered him at a time like this? Still, the temperature in my body dropped as chills ran down my spine. There was a crucial puzzle piece I was missing, and I knew it had become my job to find out what it was.
