Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
BETTSY
The last thing I expect to see when I get out of the shower is a message from Vicky telling me the GM is making a special trip to see me.
Tonight.
In approximately fifteen minutes, to be exact.
And what’s more unsettling? She’s taken it upon herself to have a suit dropped off.
“A fucking suit,” I whisper under my breath, watching whilst Johnny and the rest of the guys pull on their tracksuits for a comfy coach-ride home.
I fasten the buttons of my shirt and grab my tie.
Honestly, knowing he’s made a special trip to see me has me in a cold sweat of panic, which isn’t ideal considering my tie feels tight—almost suffocating. I keep it locked in place as I wait, figuring if he tells me I’m fired, I’ll at least look half-decent.
I pace over a small area in the dressing room.
“You’ll be fine,” Johnny says, patting me on the shoulder. He keeps his voice low as he talks. “You played a good game tonight, kept a level head, and we won. He’ll be in a good mood. ”
But when he doesn’t make eye-contact, I can tell he’s feeling as nervous as I am.
“What if this is it, Cap?” I ask, picking at the skin around the nails of my right hand. “Because one forum post is just gossip, but several?—”
I’ve been trying not to think about the increase in posts, which became apparent on the coach ride earlier.
“Nah, it’s not, bud. Trust me. There’s absolutely no truth in any of them. They are all gossip, and the GM knows it. He’s not dumb—he knows that some people have no problem bad-mouthing others. Trust me.”
The door to the away dressing room creaks open and my heart lurches, but I exhale when I spot one of our equipment guys.
He grabs the last bag of gear before announcing that the coach is ready to board—but as instructed by Vicky, I hold back. I wait.
“Just relax,” Johnny says. “Tell him the truth and he’ll understand. You’re not going to miss out because of her —I won’t let it happen.”
Johnny waits until the rest of the guys file out before turning to me and offering me his fist.
“You got this, right?”
My nerves turn my stomach into a twisted mess, and I swallow down a lump, trying to keep my head straight.
“Right,” I say, bumping Johnny’s fist with my own.
He nods once before leaving, and the eerie silence of the empty dressing room hits me at the same time as the magnitude of my situation does.
This could be it. This could be my career over.
The GM could saunter in now and tell me to clear out my cubby and leave my apartment key with Hutch. And what am I left with? An extended family that I won’t see every day, a hole—right in the middle of my heart—where the team, where the guys, sit. And for what ?
Rochelle.
I skim over our ‘off-and-on’ mess, trying to understand why she’s doing this. She didn’t love me. And she sure as hell didn’t want me either. So, what is her motive?
I pull my phone out, intending to check back on the forum, but I only get as far as unlocking the screen when the dressing room door opens and Vicky strides in, her heels clicking against the floor.
A queasy feeling washes over me.
“The GM’s finishing a call,” she says, coming to a stop in front of me. “But listen Mike … for the record, I don’t believe a word of the stuff online. I’ve tried to have the last few posts taken down but?—”
She stops.
“But what? The GM does?”
Vicky shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I honestly don’t know what his thoughts are. He hasn’t said anything.”
“So, how did you know I’d need a suit?” I ask.
“Okay, I knew it was going to be soon, and I had a feeling it would be tonight. I saw an entry in his diary for a meeting at a local hotel, so I took a punt. I didn’t want you to know and stress about it, even more so if it wasn’t going to happen.
I asked Hutch to grab your favourite suit and—” She pauses, shaking her head.
“Forget about that for now … I won’t lie and tell you I’m not a little worried. ”
I study her expression, trying to work out how worried we’re talking about.
Because I have a feeling that even though Vicky knows little of the GM’s opinion on all this, she’s likely spoken to someone from Team GB.
Between she and Jen, they know people. And they talk.
I have a strong feeling that someone there has noticed my reputation.
Skill isn’t the only thing they consider when giving someone a spot on the national team. The off-ice stuff matters too.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I mumble .
Vicky sighs. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but your reputation isn’t doing you any huge favours at the moment. Look at Rick Langdon—I hear he has a girlfriend. And Sean’s engaged. They’re both settled with pretty much next to no public drama. I mean, if you were?—”
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t say ‘in a relationship’.”
A pang of something ripples through me. Sadness? Desperation? Regret?
“It’s about the image. Someone who’s got his shit together. Someone who’s going to show up, not be out partying looking to meet a different woman every night.”
There’s a creak from behind Vicky and both of us look towards the dressing room door as Mr Lopez, the GM strides in.
He shoves his phone into his pocket and casually makes his way across the room as if he’s got all the time in the world.
I feel sick.
“I’ll make this quick, Betts,” Mr Lopez says, taking a seat on the bench and gesturing for me to do the same. “I read the first post, so I don’t need any detail, but what I need to know is if there’s any truth to it.”
I swallow, wishing my bottle of water was in reach, not shoved into the pocket of my rucksack.
“Sir, I—no. Absolutely none. For the record?—”
He holds a hand up and on cue, I stop talking.
“I can’t pretend that this isn’t an issue.
I’ve had conversations with the leadership team over at the Team GB office.
You know how it is. They want dependable players, on and off the ice.
They need someone who’s committed and not getting themselves involved with unnecessary drama.
It causes a distraction from the game, and it causes distraction from your personal development. ”
“Sir, I?—”
“I know it’s bull, Betts. But Team GB—they still want you to attend camp next week, but they’ve told me that their expectation of you is higher than the other guys. So do with that what you will. And for the love of Christ, rein it in.”
I try to muster a response when the GM’s phone pipes up with a call that apparently can’t wait.
“I’ll leave this with you, Vicky … but remember, Betts. Focus next week. I’m keen to see your name on that roster, so do what you need to do to make it happen.”
He presses his phone to his ear as he edges towards the door, disappearing into the tunnels, leaving me alone with Vicky.
I want to let out an enormous sigh of relief, but I can’t. It’s as if my lungs don’t work.
I will myself to relax, but the GM’s words float through my mind: focus … rein it in… distractions… drama…
What if Rochelle is only the beginning of the online slander? What if Ellie joins the party? Not that I think she’s that type of person, but my mind is whirling.
The feeling of desperation that’s rising in my chest has me speaking without thinking.
“Hey, Vic—what if I told you I was, I don’t know, married or something?”
Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second, then she bursts into laughter. “Marrying Paul Hutchinson in a Vegas-style club night does not count.”
“No, I mean—” The dressing room door opens, and Hutch himself pops his head around the frame.
“You coming, mate?” he says, holding the door open for Vicky to slip past him.
“I—” I look up at the clock and consider if it’s too late to call Ellie because the GM is right—I can’t risk anymore drama.
I need to apologise to her. Explain that I had no idea.
“—yeah. But I don’t think I’m going to travel back home tonight.
I’ll check with Coach, but I figured I’d pay my folks a visit whilst I’m here. ”
It’s bullshit, but it’s all I’ve got to save telling Hutch any more than I need to tonight .
He wrinkles his brow. “That makes zero sense. You’ve got to drive up here tomorrow for prelims. Can’t you see them then?”
“I’ll get my dad to drop me home and get my stuff,” I say. “Honestly, I think my mam is a little worried so…”
“Right, well, I guess you know what you’re doing,” he says.
And a pang of guilt ripples through me as he takes the lie at face value.
Damn, I really am a dick.
I follow him through the tunnels, focusing on the path ahead as we make our way out the back exit to the coach. The transport is loaded, and several of the guys are mulling around outside, waiting until the very last minute to board, but I don’t see Johnny.
“Anyone seen Cap?” I ask no one in particular.
“The GM wanted a word with him or something,” Ryan says. “I don’t think he’ll be too much longer.”
I nod, deciding that updating Johnny on my conversation with the GM can wait, since he’s probably hearing it directly himself.
Instead of following Hutch onto the bus, I take the opportunity to find Coach Adams instead, who’s standing towards the rear of the bus with Springy, the assistant coach.
They have their heads together, laughing about something and since I don’t want to spoil their fun, I lean against the side of the coach, waiting for them to come to a natural break in the conversation.
“Everything alright, Betts?” Coach says, shifting his attention towards me.
“I need to ask a favour, Coach,” I say, standing to my full height.
His face drops into a frown. “No, Betts. I’m not letting you bring a girl home on the coach. It’s for players and staff only. How many times?—”
“Nah, Coach, it’s not that. I just need a pass—but not for anything like that either. I need to see my folks. My mam was worried about all that negative press, and I’ve just had a chat with the GM ahead of next week. She’ll be waiting for an update.”
I allow myself the smallest of internal grins, because that’s worked itself out perfectly.
Coach studies me for a second. “All good, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just need to keep my focus and since we don’t have a game tomorrow…”
Coach nods. “Fine, but you check in with me before you leave for prelims. I have a few things I want to run through.”
I express my appreciation and say goodbye to the guys, noting that Johnny still hasn’t returned. But I don’t have time to worry about that.
I step aside and pull my phone out, wondering if I should call Ellie and ask if she can meet me somewhere. But I stare at her number before deciding to call a cab instead.