Chapter 13
Present Day
And that’s all for now,” I tell Tyler Jackson, who’s just finished up a thirty-minute session with me. “We’ll do this again soon,” I say over the pounding headache in my temples.
“Thanks, Coach Zoe,” he says gruffly before skating toward the exit.
I just gave the worst coaching session of my life. We worked on lateral movement. I think. But I’m bleary and distracted after a poor night’s sleep.
Luckily, Chase wasn’t arrested last night or even seriously questioned. It helped that he hadn’t really done anything wrong and that the bartender and another bystander were willing to say so.
It also helped that the cops were Legends fans. It was them, in fact, who put him into the damn taxi. So in the end, I wasn’t even able to help at all.
The upshot is that I was out until two in the morning for nothing. And I’m angry with myself for butting in. I shouldn’t have given Harp my number and asked him to call me. All I did was make trouble for Chase.
You’re too impulsive, Zoe, my mother always says. And it’s the one bit of criticism that is always on point.
After changing out of my skates, I open my Legends locker gingerly.
No nasty notes today. Small mercies. I stash my skates and then ride the escalators up to the fourth floor, looking for a free cup of coffee.
I pause outside of the office complex, where Darcy is on the phone.
Actually she’s on two of them at the same time.
Yikes. I turn toward the players’ lounge instead. There’s laughter in the corner of the room, where a couple of guys are watching something on one of their phones. But Chase isn’t here. Thank God. I can’t face him right now.
I head for the coffee counter, and I’m just slotting a Nespresso pod into the gleaming machine when Alexei Petrov hurries into the room and approaches me. He presses his hands together in the prayer position and does a little bow.
“You okay, Petrov?” I ask him.
“No,” he says dramatically. “Coach Zoe, I have skated years without knowing that new blades would make me total badass.”
My heart lifts as I press the button for an espresso shot. “So you’re a fan of the profiled blade?”
“One practice,” he says, holding up a thick finger. “That is all it took. I love the new steel. We have a saying in Russia: Never wrestle bear after drinking vodka, and always listen to smart women. I almost forgot the second one.”
I bark out a laugh. The small victory feels good. No—it feels great. Inch by inch I will win this team over.
“Hey, Lexei!” calls one of the guys in the corner. It’s Aiden Sharp—the coaching assistant. “Did you see this video of Merritt punching a fan?”
My heart lurches. “Video?” I gasp.
Aiden looks up from the phone. “Merritt was brawlin’ with a fan last night. It’s got a hundred thousand views already.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, it’s bad.” Aiden chuckles. “My father is going to blow his gasket so hard they’ll feel it in Jersey.”
A video. Oh God.
My espresso streams into the cup, but I no longer need it. I sink onto a chair and google Chase’s name.
My phone lights up immediately with links to several gossip sites. And the first headline I see sends a new wave of nausea through my belly. Video: Chase Merritt slams fan!
I hit the play button with a shaky finger. And there he is, grabbing the fan and shoving him out of the way. The camera follows the fan all the way to the floor. They even caught the sickening little bounce.
My first thought is a selfish one—At least my face isn’t visible. My hoodie hides me pretty well. But then I scroll down to read the comments, and any relief I feel is quickly drowned out by the horror of what they’re saying about Chase.
Guess those anger management classes aren’t working, huh Merritt?
Lost all respect for #41. Used to be a fan, but no more.
Typical entitled millionaire athlete. Zero accountability.
Oh God. This is so bad. And it’s probably all my fault. Chase is going to murder me.
His teammates are talking about him, too. In the corner, I hear someone mutter Chase’s name and the word video.
“That’s how you lose sponsorships,” someone else says, and I die a little more inside.
My phone lights up with a text from Darcy.
Where are you? Here somewhere?
OMG what happened last night?
Nolan wants you in a meeting in 5 minutes.
It’s about the Chase Merritt incident.
And what the hell happened? You need to fill me in later.
Oh my God. They know I was there!
“Zoe! I found you.”
Darcy’s voice startles me so badly that I drop my phone on the floor. “Holy crap.” I leap off the chair to retrieve it. “I’m getting your messages. Is this bad?” I ask in a hushed tone.
She gestures for me to follow her out of the lounge, and I do. “I’m not sure yet. It’s bad for him. But maybe not for you.”
My heart drops anyway. “Darcy, am I about to be fired?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” she whispers. “But they’re going to ask you a lot of questions about how you and Chase ended up in that bar last night.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me. “How do they know I was there? Did Chase complain about me?”
She gives her head a slow shake. “Not that I know of. But there’s this split second in the video when you can see the patch on the shoulder of your Legends jacket. It says ‘coach.’ And when Steve Sailor watched the frame-by-frame, he saw it.”
“Oh shit,” I say slowly. “The PR guy.” I met him once, when he asked me a few questions for his press release.
She nods. “He’s not a bad guy, but he’s really excitable. And today he’s in full damage-control mode. Our phones are lighting up like Times Square during a power surge. Everybody wants a quote about Chase punching a fan.”
“But he didn’t! He just sort of pushed the guy away from me.”
“Yes, but…” Darcy lays a hand on my arm. “I know you’re panicking. But you probably know how all this works—if the fans think they saw something, then they saw it. And it’s Sailor’s job to apologize, not explain. So Chase is having a really bad day.”
“And now I am, too,” I add slowly.
She bites her lip. “Look, I’m going to need a full report later on how you ended up in a bar with Chase in the wee hours…”
“It’s not for the reason you think.” I sigh.
“Unfortunate.” She flinches. “Let’s go, missy. I need you in the war room for that meeting. Smile pretty and kiss Nolan Sharp’s ass.”
My stomach bottoms out. “I’m going to have to, aren’t I? This is terrible.”
“It’s not great,” Darcy says, leading me into the office suite. “Please don’t get fired. We still have to get pedicures together.”
“Right,” I say bravely. “I can’t get fired before the pedicures.”
My pulse feels thready as I follow Darcy past several groups of office cubicles, including my own. There’s a name tag in Legends blue on my desk: Zoe Carson, Skating Coach.
Will I still have a desk an hour from now? Chase would be justified in blaming me for this disaster.
I got him in trouble once. Now it’s his turn to get even. And I deserve it, right? This might be the shortest tenure of a coach in Legends history.
What a reversal of fortune. I came here looking for an apology from Chase, and now I owe him an apology instead.
“It could still turn out okay,” Darcy says, reading my thoughts. “You’ll explain what happened and why Chase doesn’t deserve a fine or a suspension by the team. They might ask you to make a public statement.”
“Oh god.”
“Breathe,” she reminds me. “And look on the bright side—I haven’t seen your name on the internet yet. It was only Sailor who ID’d you.”
“For now,” I mutter. “Where are we headed?”
“The war room,” she says. “It’s that one with the big conference table.”
“Can’t they just call it a conference room?”
She shakes her head as the room in question comes into view. “There’s too much testosterone in this building for that. Now go on in there. And stop by after the meeting, okay? We’ll debrief over coffee.”
“Okay. But if I get fired, you have to buy.”
She gives me a worried smile. “It’s a deal. Now go.”
Darcy walks away, but I pause outside the door to the “war room.” It has glass walls, like all the other offices in this place, so I can see two people inside.
There’s Chase, plus a red-haired woman who must be his agent.
They’re seated side by side at the conference table, but she’s leaning toward him and speaking with fervent hand gestures.
I can’t hear everything she’s saying, but I don’t exactly need to.
His tight mouth makes it pretty clear she’s chewing him out.
Then the pitch of her voice rises slightly, and I hear something that makes me hesitate on the threshold. “Chase, I got five calls from your sponsors today. Five. You know what it means if you start losing sponsors, right?”
A chill rolls down my spine.