Page 10 of Hot Stuff
I scrub a hand over my face, the stubble on my jaw rasping against my palm.
I’m exhausted.
And this stupid meeting isn’t helping.
Jerry Cantrell sits across from me, a smug look on his face.
He wouldn’t look so pleased if he knew what I had on him.
I still haven’t decided what to do about the pictures yet.
Oh, I know I’m going to use them to get Kristina out of my life completely. Just the threat of making them public would guarantee that. The woman is all about her image. Always has been.
So many red flags flapping.
From the first night I met her and she made her interest clear, I should have seen them.
Seenher.
“You good with that then?” Drake asks.
“We’re good with that,” Jerry replies.
“Sir—”
“I said, we’re good.” Jerry glares at the woman beside him. Mischa is the PR VP for the New York Knights and I know she’s not happy Jerry doesn’t want the team to make a joint announcement of my retirement.
“Then we’ll leave you to get on with your day.” Drake collects the papers in front of him. The drafts of my announcement. “Thanks for meeting with us on short notice.”
I can tell Drake is only being polite; he’s made it clear over the last few years how little he respects Jerry. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in with Drake’s assessment of the man who owns the team I’m no longer contracted to.
My time with New York is done.
The lawyers will do their thing, and there will be paperwork to sign I’m sure, but as of now I’m not on the roaster.
I’m not a player.
I’m not anything.
But I could be.
I still have to meet Oakley.
We’d planned to head to her hotel the minute we’d finished the shoot, but I knew I couldn’t put Drake off any longer and when I’d made that call, he’d insisted we meet with the team immediately.
So here we are, three hours later, no better off than before we arrived.
We could have dealt with this over the phone. But I get why Drake wanted to do it in person. He doesn’t want me to burn bridges and even though I can’t tell him about Oakley’s offer, I know if he knew, he’d remind me of the necessity to stay on amicable terms with my old team.
Pushing to my feet, I lean over the table and offer my hand. “It’s been a pleasure playing for the New York Knights. I’m sorry we had to end our association this way.”
“I’m sorry you missed out on the Cup.” Jerry doesn’t stand, just reaches out and puts his hand in mine. His grip is weak, his hand limp, and I’m reminded of how this man didn’t get where he is because of hard work.
Gerald Cantrell Senior is the reason the team has been a success and why Jerry Junior now owns it.
“I’ve got two already, although I am sorry we never made it there together.” It’s lip service. I don’t mean any of it.
Yes, I’m sad we haven’t won the Cup as a team since he took over two years ago but I’m not sorry Jerry doesn’t have that privilege. The cups the Knights have brought home were all under Gerald Senior’s reign.
