Page 39 of Finders Keepers
Nate took another swallow of water. The suspense was killing him, and he felt about ten years old, being grilled in the principal’s office about a playground fight. “Am I in trouble?”
“We’ll have to address the incident in the dressing room, yes,” said Montgomery. “Are you in trouble...?” He shrugged, letting the question hang.
Nate’s pulse jumped, his thoughts scrambling to keep up. What the hell was going on?
“Keep going, Nate,” Mr. Mason encouraged him.
Nate explained in detail the exchange at his condo, then the one in the dressing room.
“Look, I know I’m new here, but my best friend was gay. Ever since high school, I vowed I’d stand up to homophobia wherever I found it. I’m certainly not going to let it slide in my own home, but I could have handled myself better here at the rink in front of everyone. I know it’s not a great way to endear myself to new teammates.”
“On the contrary,” said Boudreaux.
Wait. What?
“I can’t really condone your method,” Boudreaux continued although his tone suggested otherwise.
Jameson looked as though he were fighting a smile.
“But I can tell you that everyone in the room was glad to see Tommy confronted. Most of ‘em have only been here a year or two or don’t speak English well and have shared that they haven’t felt comfortable taking him on.
“He was our first-round draft pick several years ago and has been our star—” Montgomery made finger quotes. “—player since then, so there’s another reason they’re hesitant to challenge him. So far, disciplinary action only works for so long.”
“We brought you here for a reason, Nate. Well, several reasons. Rings in the room of course. You helped your team win the Cup last year. You know what it takes. And you’re in your prime.” Montgomery tugged a manila folder out from under his portfolio, peeked inside and then slid it across the table to him. “Portland was stupid to give you up, but their loss is our gain.”
Nate shuffled through the papers—the images of him in the parking lot of that Portland club. His stomach roiled. There were pages of notes and a report. He perused the images and then pretended to read the report, eyes tracking the lines while his mind spun.
They knew.
They’d had him followed and investigated and they knew.
Every muscle went taut, blood surging hot and fast through his veins, his body braced as if for a hit he couldn’t dodge.
He set the papers back in the folder and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I think I should get my agent on the line.”
Mr. Montgomery shook his head and smiled. “We’ve spoken with Mr. Latham. He’s aware of the substance of this morning’s meeting, but feel free to verify with him now if you’d like.”
Nate tried to grasp what was happening. The team—well, management—knew all about him. They were all smiling and happy and...and accepting?
His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking once. It felt too neat, too rehearsed—like they were leading him somewhere he didn’t want to go. And yet, he was here, in Omaha, in the room, face to face with management. Surely, they wouldn’t set him up for something—would they?
“I don’t understand.” His brain skittered like a puck across chippy ice. He stuck the papers back in the folder and pushed it toward the center of the table.
“Not only was the opportunity to sign a Cup winning goalie to the team one we couldn’t pass up, but to have someone with your background—”
“My queerness, you mean?”
Montgomery had the humility to look a bit uncomfortable, but admitted, “Yes.”
Nate wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or not that they’d invaded his privacy like that. On the other hand, the incident had made the social media rounds, and he supposed they had a right to know what they were getting, but they’d signed him despite or because of his sexuality. God, he wasn’t even sure what was happening. He rubbed both hands down his pants legs.
“Mr. Hennessey—”
“Nate.”
Montgomery nodded. “Nate. What I’m going to say next will never leave this room. I know we’ve at least cracked your trust.” He waved at the folder in front of Nate. “I’m hoping to repair it or at least offer an after-the-fact explanation.”
Nate could use a drink right about now. A massive Screwdriver. He chugged some water and waited.
