Page 117 of False Play
Shame crept up on me, settling in my stomach like a heavy stone. He was right. The truth was, I let my pride get in the way. I let myI-can-deal-with-everything-myselfattitude ignore the red flags and take shit I wasn’t supposed to be taking in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to say.
“I understand where you were coming from. I will look intoeverything and we’ll meet again, hopefully soon. Thank you for bringing this up.”
I stood from the chair with a nod.
“You’ve been doing great work this season. With Anderson’s reputation, the gala. You’ve done a lot you should be proud of. Don’t let something like this set you back.”
Pride filled my chest. This, coming from the man who taught me everything I knew about public relations—because having a degree was one thing, but hands-on experience was a completely different ball game—meant everything.
“Thank you,” I replied with a genuine smile before I turned around and stepped out of his office. Once I shut his door, I let out the biggest sigh of relief, letting go of the fear and anxiety once and for all.
It was stupid for me to let Matt continue to get away with this. I knew then I had ignorantly fueled one of the core problems of the sports industry. The longer women stayed quiet when they were being harassed by men who owed them nothing, the longer those men would get away with it. This angered me like no other. Three years was a long time, and I could only imagine how many other women he had done this to, but they also remained quiet because they were terrified, just like me.
Was part of me still terrified?Absolutely. With every step I took in my career, I always wondered about many things.
Was this the right move?
Am I enough?
How can I be perfect?
Am I too much?
How much harder do I need to work to prove I deserve a spot?
Do I even deserve a spot in this cut-throat industry in thefirst place?
So many questions remained unanswered, but all I could do was hold my head high and keep putting in the work—for myself, and for every woman who would eventually take the same scary step.
THIRTY-TWO
KENNEDY
PLEASE, YOU LIKE ME JUST LIKE THIS.
Later that week,when Valentina dropped by my office mid-morning and said she was going to go bother the guys to get some marketing content done and asked me if I wanted to go with her, I quickly said yes. I desperately needed the break, plus watching a bunch of hockey players visibly groan when Val stepped into the barn with her phone in one hand and the ring light in the other was too funny to miss. They all loved to huff and puff every chance they got, but they knew they didn’t have an option. For one, Coach Sloane would rip them a new one if they didn’t participate—since it was part of their contracts and all. But worst-case scenario? Owens was there to get them in line, because when it came to his best friend, he didn’t play.
When we arrived, the guys were doing some suicide drills while Coach kept barking orders. The guys looked miserable.
“I wonder who’s at fault for this? Probably Parker,” Val whispered through a giggle.
“Are youcrazy? I bet you twenty bucks it was Hayes’s fault,” I murmured back, trying to contain my laughter.
That was the thing about suicide drills—if they were doing them after such a long practice, it was either because they’d lost a game the day prior, or one of the guys said something to piss off Coach Sloane. And, well, we’d won 4-2 against the Florida Bay Kings the previous night.
As soon as Coach blew the whistle to end the practice, a few of the guys collapsed onto the ice like exhausted starfish while Parker skated straight up to Hayes and smacked him with his stick. “Fuck you for that.”
Val groaned while sagging her shoulders. “I don’t have my purse with me.”
“Drinks are on you tonight, then.” I chuckled.
“Damn you, Wesley Hayes,” Valentina murmured to herself.
I let out a quick laugh, but before I could say anything, Henry and Owens stepped into the tunnel.
Henry took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, while his stick hung loosely in his hand. His cheeks were flushed, making the freckles across his face stand out, and damp strands of hair clung to his forehead. “This is a nice surprise,” he said, slightly out of breath.
