5. Piper
FIVE
PIPER
“Off to Texas.” Lexi lifts her bag onto the charter plane and turns down the aisle. “Where everything is bigger.”
“Why do I feel like a man came up with that slogan?” I toss my black leather backpack on an empty seat and stand on my toes, shoving my suitcase in an overhead bin. “It’s probably compensation for what they lack in other departments.”
“Without a doubt.” She sits in the row across from me at the front of the plane. “I was thinking barbecue for dinner tonight. Want to join?”
“Maybe. Depends on how much work I can get done on this flight. I have the players’ stats ready to go for tomorrow, but I’m behind on our next two games.”
“Why doesn’t anyone else in the broadcasting department help you? You’re not the only reporter, and you’re doing all this research for them.”
“I don’t mind it.” I pull out my notebook from my bag and set it on my jeans, tapping the spiraled spine. “They’re not thorough, and since I’m not permanently in front of the camera, it gives me something to do to stay busy.”
“Not permanently in front of the camera yet ,” she emphasizes, and I smile at her optimism. “They could at least lift a finger every now and then. Did you go to HR about Small Dick Charlie?”
“Your nicknames kill me.” I shake my head, grinning. “And, yeah. I did. They told me they’re looking into it, and if anything else comes up to let them know.”
“Good.” Lexi sits up as the team starts to make their way onboard in their suits and ties. Coach requires business casual whenever they’re in front of the media, but the second they get on the plane, their clothes start to come off. “Morning, boys. You all clean up well.”
“Morning, ladies.” Connor McKenzie, our backup center, tips his chin our direction. “Don’t look at the shiner on my face. My eye is still purple from Monday’s game.”
“You probably deserved it,” she says, and he flips her off. “Hey, Riley.”
Riley looks up from his phone. His cheeks turn crimson and he waves, giving her a smile before nearly tripping over his bag. “Shit. Uh. Hey, Lexi. Piper.”
“Morning, Riley,” I say, chuckling as he walks away. “I swear every guy on this team is in love with you.”
“God, no. I think of them like my brothers.”
“Please tell me you at least realize Riley has a crush on you.”
“Riley? He’s cute. A little young for me, but cute.”
“Who’s cute?” Maven plops in the seats in front of us, out of breath.
“Riley,” I say. “Poor guy almost tore his Achilles tripping over his bag when Lexi said hi to him.”
“ Stop ,” Lexi groans. “We should be focusing on Piper and her attempt to get back in the dating game.”
“No dating,” I say, correcting her. “Sex. Casual. Fun. Big difference.”
“Whoa. Who’s having sex?” Maverick slides his sunglasses up into his hair and stops to look at the three of us. “Did one of the rookies do something stupid and get himself in trouble? Kids these fucking days. I never acted like that.”
“Don’t even try to lie to us, Miller. We know what you were like before Emmy came around.” Maven sticks out her tongue. “You hit on me .”
“I did not hit on you. I was testing your allegiance to my best friend.” He smirks. “I saw the way you checked me out the first time you met me, though.”
“Delusional.” Maven sighs and plays with her wedding ring. “Your ego is definitely making up for something else.”
“Hey, we can stand here and talk about my di?—”
“Will you move?” The deep voice comes out of nowhere. I peer around Maverick’s shoulder and find Liam taking up too much space in the aisle with his broad shoulders and thick thighs. “Some of us want to get to our seats and go to sleep. Hearing about your dick at seven in the morning sounds like a nightmare.”
I hide my laugh with a cough, and Liam’s eyes snap over to me. I wave, and he tilts his head to the side, more of a greeting than I usually get from him.
I didn’t mean to stumble into a conversation with him on the balcony at team dinner, but I’m glad I did. It’s hard to get him to open up, to give away any part of himself, and hearing about his sister’s wedding and seeing the way he lit up when he talked about her was the highlight of my night.
“I forget how grumpy he is before he’s had his coffee.” Maverick rolls his eyes and steps into Maven’s row. “Morning, big guy.”
Liam’s attention moves from me back to the captain. He scowls and yanks his suitcase past our rows. “Don’t fuck with me, Miller.”
“Yes sir.” Maverick salutes him, and I don’t bother to hide my laugh this time. “He’s just telling me he loves me.”
Lexi snorts. “Sounds like he was plotting your murder.”
“That’s how Liam shows affection.” Maverick hikes his bag up his shoulder and starts toward the part of the plane where the players sit. “You ladies behave. I’m going where the real fun is. Try to keep it down.”
When he leaves us alone, Lexi turns to me. “How did your date go?”
“Oh.” I laugh and shrug, trying to play off the discomfort from thinking about two nights ago. The way I sat at the bar for thirty minutes, then forty-five, checking the door every time it swung open and coming up empty-handed. The later the evening went on, the more my heart sunk in my chest, mortified and exhausted from believing I could actually have a successful interaction with a man. “He, um, stood me up.”
“You’re joking.” Maven spins around and glares at me over the top of the seats. “He didn’t show? The balls on him.”
“No text or anything. When I went to send him a message and make sure he was, you know, alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere, I found out he blocked me.”
“This is why dating sucks. Men think they can pull this kind of shit without any repercussions,” Lexi tells us. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I add in a laugh to really sell it, and for half a second, I believe myself. “It’s no big deal. I’m not going to lose any sleep over him.”
Except last night when I was in bed, negativity raced through my head. It was an endless spiral, self-deprecating thought after self-deprecating thought until the sun came up and I could focus on the day, not my shortcomings.
I’m not pretty enough .
I’m not successful enough .
I’m too much of an inconvenience .
There’s someone better out there .
I never used to have such shitty self-confidence, but when someone you love repeatedly tells you you’re good but not great , over and over again, it wears you down. It burrows into every corner of your soul until you’re left with nothing but fractured pieces of yourself. Nothing but attempts of trying to move on and giving up instead.
“It’s okay. Really.” I smile at the last guys climbing onto the plane, bleary-eyed, yawning, and five minutes late. “He wasn’t for me. The next one probably won’t be either, but I figured I’d have to go through some trials and tribulations before I found someone to have fun with.”
I pull a pen out from behind my ear to try and open my notebook, trying to distract myself from the plane rumbling down the runway.
I’ve always hated flying, and focusing on anything other than the physics behind lifting in the air and staying in the air is the only way to keep from panicking.
“We’ll find you a nice Texas boy at dinner. A man who can wear the hell out of his Levi’s.” Lexi glances at me. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. You know I hate take off and landing.” I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the armrests, attempting to take a deep breath. “I’ll be okay.”
“Think of hot cowboys with boots and hats we’ll see at dinner. And, hey, if we die, at least you’ll go out with a vision of a sex god on your mind.”
“Small victories.” I laugh nervously as the wheels come up and we lift off the ground. I crack an eye open and breathe a sigh of relief. “That’s freaking terrifying. I don’t know how people do this every day. Forty-one times a season is more than enough for me.”
“Get to work, love bug.” She pats my thigh. “So we can have a rootin’ tootin’ good time tonight.”
Hours later, I yawn and stretch my arms above my head. My back is sore from the flight to Austin, and I’m tired from a busy day that shows no signs of slowing down.
I’ve barely had any time to catch my breath. As soon as the plane touched down, we were on the bus to the arena where the guys went through their full practice routine. Now it’s off to the hotel to meet with the broadcast team to go over tomorrow’s agenda.
As a chronic ten-minutes-early type of woman, I’m ahead of schedule, so I take a grateful breather outside the conference room. Voices travel through the door that’s been left slightly ajar, and I hear a deep laugh. I pause, wondering what’s so funny, and stop to listen.
“I swear to god, if I have to hear her ask one more stupid question about how their early skating years shaped their career in the NHL, I’m going to lose it,” someone says, and I recognize the voice as Charlie’s, my boss. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s slept with half the team already. Their mouths hang open when she walks around. Bunch of fucking teenage boys.”
My fingers curl around the door handle. I grip the metal so tightly, my knuckles turn white. I put my ear to the door and press my body against the barrier so I can hear without making my presence known.
There’s no way in hell I’m walking in there right now. Not until I know who they’re talking about so inappropriately.
“You don’t think she’s hot? I bet she’d look nice bent over your desk,” Doug, his co-announcer, adds.
“She’s not horrible to look at. We could tag-team her. It’d probably loosen her up a bit.”
“It’s cute she thinks she’s going to have a permanent spot on the crew. I almost feel bad for her. She does all that work, and no one is ever going to see it. At least she wears tight skirts. Gives us something to look at.”
“She’s so goddamn sensitive though,” Charlie says. “She couldn’t get through that interview with Miller talking about his childhood last season without crying. It was embarrassing.”
“I’ve always said women should stick to the boring work: HR. Accounting. Leave the sports to the men.”
“They can’t even do HR right. I’ve had complaints against me for years, and I’m still here. Good fucking luck getting rid of me. Who would they replace me with? Her ? She’d sink us. I have almost as much power in this organization as the fucking CEO, and I know I’m not going anywhere.”
“Hey.” A throat clears, and a third voice joins the conversation. “Feels like we should be focusing on the schedule for tomorrow’s game, not talking about someone who isn’t here to defend themselves.”
My hands shake as I step away from the door. Then another and another until I can’t hear them anymore. Until I can’t hear their laughter or the vile comments they’re making.
Understanding dawns.
They’re talking about me .
I’m the lone woman on our small team, and Maverick’s interview? It was only possible because he said he wanted me to tell his story, not anyone else.
The men I’ve worked with for goddamn years don’t see me as anything more than a dumb piece of ass.
Bile rises in my throat.
I taste acid on my tongue and my hands curl into fists at my sides as I rest my back against the wall and slide to the floor.
The urge to cry, to scream, to rage against the world pounds in my blood. It’s close to slipping out, to breaking free, but I close my eyes and take a breath instead. I cradle my head in my hands and try to recite every positive affirmation I’ve ever learned. I try to focus on all the good I can grab on to, yet I can only think about how everything I’ve worked so hard for means absolutely nothing .
I’ve heard about women in the broadcasting industry experiencing misogyny, but I never thought I’d be subjected to something so blatant. Something so volatile and intentional, as if I’m not a coworker but a nameless body they could use until they got their fill.
There’s no respect—I doubt there ever was—and every day I show up to work going forward, I’m going to have to live with the notion there’s no room for advancement. No room for a promotion, because the people who could offer me that opportunity would rather keel over than watch me succeed.
A tear runs down my cheek, and I realize the job I love is tainted now. Holding a microphone won’t ever be the same, and as I wallow in the hallway of a hotel in the heart of Texas, I know that’s the saddest thing of all.