Page 76 of Scoring Zone
“Can anyone back you up?”
“Umm, maybe. Rhys Brant was walking down the street, but I don’t know if he saw anything.” I’m praying to a higher power that Rhys is smart enough to keep his mouth shut if he saw what really happened.
“Both of you need to come in. I’ll work on a statement for your approval.” He hangs up without saying goodbye.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Austin seethes on the other side of the door.
I open it. “Good, you’re dressed. We need to be in Finn’s office for damage control ASAP. I told him the kid lied, and I hit him. If you change our story, I’ll be the liar.” This fact takes him aback, and his mouth snaps shut.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Yup.” I pat his cheek. If I take the blame, it will be yesterday’s news instead of a media circus around him. “I’ll change; there are protein muffins on the counter for breakfast.”
He drags me back to his room and insists I wear his clothes. “We’re not leaving until you put those on,” he says, pointing at the clothes on the bed, including his clean underwear. He seems to need this so I comply.
Austin’s quiet on the ride over, and I’m afraid he’ll tell the truth to be noble and honorable and all the things he is.
“Hey.” I take his hand. “This is a small thing I can do for you. Without you, I’d be living in my parents’ basement, crying about what could’ve been. You single-handedly dragged me out of my misery and helped me find a purpose. I love my job. Don’t paint me as a liar.”
“You fight dirty, and I’m not making any promises.” His blue eyes are clouded with conflict.
The elevator opens, and Finn’s waiting for us and starts talking as if we’re mid-conversation. “Rhys Brant put out a statement confirming Ward’s story that Ward punched”—he scans the paper— “Blaine Dumas after a verbal assault by Dumas.”
“Dumbass is more like it,” I mutter.
“I didn’t hear that. We only have positive things to say in this office. Unless it’s outstanding gossip,” Finn says over his shoulder as he walks toward the nearest conference room, expecting us to follow him.
“Ward, you’re very sorry for the altercation. It’s not like you, and you don’t condone violence to solve problems. The statement will be along those lines. Got it?” he asks and doesn’t wait for a response before he says, “Good.”
Austin is agitated and hates the situation I put him in. His need to tell the truth weighs on him, but it’s too late unless he paints both Rhys and me as liars, which I remind him of when he looks ready to burst.
I agree to a written apology, which needs to be approved by management before it’s sent out to news organizations. As Austin drives us to practice, I smugly read comment after comment that Dumas probably deserved it. He’s attacked for being a fame-seeking dickhead who can’t tell the truth.
“Look who’s here. The newest contender for light-weight boxing championship,” Benz teases.
“Nobody say a word,” Austin barks, and no one questions him. My smugness vanishes, and regret for making him lie settles in its place.
Halfway through practice, Mr. Dimon’s assistant, Wes, texts me to leave practice and come straight to Mr. Dimon’s office. The only thing that comes to my mind is that no good deed goes unpunished, but I’ll gladly suffer the consequences to spare Austin.
I text the group chat that an emergency came up and ask them to give Ace a ride home. I’m purposely cryptic so I don’t create any unnecessary panic.
Wes stands as if he’s nervous as I approach his desk. “He’s in a meeting, but he should be out soon.” He stares at me and doesn’t offer me the usual drinks or direct me to take a seat.
I wasn’t worried until now. Wes is unflappable.
A few minutes later, the mayor and another man exit Mr. Dimon’s office, glaring at me. I’m underdressed for this type of meeting.
Wes waves me into Mr. Dimon’s office and follows with an apologetic glance. He stands off to the side by the windows as Ari greets me from behind his desk.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.” He gestures for me to sit.
The air, thick with tension, becomes hard to swallow. I should respond or say something, but my words are stuck in my dry throat.
“I asked Wes to stay as a witness.” He frowns and sits in his chair. “Do you know who left my office before you?”
“The mayor?” I respond, unsure.
“The mayor and the police chief.” He steeples his fingers on the desk. “It seems young Dumas is well connected and wants me to fire you.”
