Chapter 9 Joelle
JOELLE
Another day in London where the weather is unpredictable.
One day it's sunny. The next it's pouring rain.
Today is somewhere in between. Gray skies.
Drizzle. It's match day, and I'm standing pitch-side watching the team warm up against Leicester.
Jamie's hamstring is holding. Marcus's shoulder is stable. The preseason work paid off.
The rugby season started two weeks ago, and we're undefeated. Three wins. Zero losses. The team is flying, and today, I find out if I got the promotion. Head of Sports Medicine and Performance.
I've been working toward this for two years, putting in the hours, the research, and the proposals for new recovery protocols that have cut our injury rate by thirty percent. I'm the most qualified person for the job, and I want it.
"Jo!" Coach waves me over. I jog across the pitch. "Marcus needs his shoulder checked before kickoff." I nod and get to work.
We win. 28-14.
The team is celebrating in the locker room afterward. I'm packing up my kit when my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: Hi Joelle, this is David Cooper. Could you come by my office on Monday morning at 9 a.m.? Want to discuss the Head of Department position.
My heart jumps. It's the new owner of the club. This is it. He wants to talk to me about the promotion. Does this mean I've got it? I'm nervous and excited at the same time.
Jo: Absolutely. See you Monday.
Polly's home for once, a rare occurrence these days with her new job at the football club. I tell her that night over wine.
"That's amazing!" She squeals. "You're definitely getting it."
"You don't know that."
"Jo. You're the best. Everyone knows it. This is just a formality."
I hope she's right.
We move on to what's been happening with her at her new club. I miss her so much. No more lunch breaks together. No venting between meetings. No spontaneous coffee runs. My work life is boring without her in it, but she's so happy and thriving in her new position.
Monday morning, I'm freaking out as I make my way to David Cooper's office. I don't want to be late for this meeting. So, I'm there before nine, prepared and ready.
Connie, the receptionist, greets me warmly. She's been working for the club for years. She tells me to have a seat while she lets him know I'm here.
When he's ready for me, she gives me an excited thumbs up, and I walk into Mr. Cooper's office.
He's sitting behind his desk when I enter.
Mid-fifties. Salt and pepper hair. Expensive suit.
The club is not really a suit kind of place, everyone is typically in athletic gear.
He's probably the kind of guy who bought the club as a vanity project or tax write-off.
"Joelle, thanks for coming in." He smiles warmly but doesn't get up, just points to the chair.
"Of course." I take my seat, trying not to let my sweaty palms be too noticeable.
"I wanted to talk to you about the Head of Sports Medicine position." I nod. "You were highly recommended. The team and the coaches love you. I can see since you've been here, injuries are down, and the team's performance has increased by thirty percent."
Okay. This is it. He doesn't have to butter me up. I'm going to accept the promotion.
"And I don't think there is anyone more qualified to mentor Cameron Cooper."
"Mentor Cameron?" I ask before I understand what he's asking.
"Yes. My son."
I don't quite understand. Was this meeting about asking me to mentor his son?
"He just finished his degree in sports science and wants to get his feet wet in the industry. I think this is a perfect opportunity for him."
"Of course. What better way to get experience than at his family's club?"
"See, I knew you would understand why I gave Cameron the position." David smiles widely.
I still. "Excuse me?"
"Yes. Cameron is going to be the new Head of Sports Medicine and Performance. As you said, this is a family business."
My stomach drops.
"He's very excited. Fresh perspective. New ideas."
"With all due respect, I have five years of experience with this team. I've implemented protocols that have significantly reduced our injury rate. I know these players. I know this system."
"Exactly. And that's why I want you to mentor him. You're the best at what you do, and he should learn from the best."
Cameron Cooper just graduated. He has zero professional experience and he's getting my job. Because he's the owner's son.
"So where does that leave me?" I ask.
David chuckles. "Leaves you where you are. As our senior physiotherapist. You'll report to Cameron and help him transition into the role. There will be a pay increase of five percent for helping him."
Report to him. Five percent pay rise. To train my replacement.
"I hope you understand. One day when you have a family, you'll realize you'll do anything for your children."
That's not helping your child. That's nepotism. "When does Cameron start?" I ask.
"Next week." David smiles as if everything is perfectly fine. That he didn't just shatter my career.
"Thank you for letting me know," I say, trying to stay calm, even though I want to scream.
"He is so excited to be working with you," David adds.
I nod.
I leave his office in a fog, slowly walk back to the treatment room office, close the door behind me and have a cry.
I let myself feel it. The disappointment.
The frustration. The anger. I worked my ass off for this club.
For the athletes. All for the owner’s son to waltz in and take the job with no experience.
And the kicker? Making me mentor him. I give myself five minutes to get it all out, then fix myself up and start my day as if my entire career hasn't been shattered.
"This doesn't look like a celebration." Polly stares at me sitting in the dark, curled up on the couch.
"It's not," I grumble, feeling sorry for myself in the comfort of my own home.
"Shit. Let me pour a glass and join you."
I sip my wine as I watch her pour hers.
"Okay. I'm stocked up. What the hell happened?"
I tell her, and she's furious.
"Are you fucking kidding me? His son?"
"Yep."
"That's bullshit." She shakes her head.
"Yep."
"You should quit. You deserve better."
"Where would I go? My visa is wrapped up in that job."
"Shit," she curses.
"What about my club? I could ask around. See if there are any positions."
"I don't know, Pol."
"Just think about it. You're too good to be stuck here training some nepotism hire." She's not wrong.
We continue drinking my sorrows away, then order some takeaway Indian to soak up the bottle of wine.
My phone buzzes with a message from my sister.
Collette: Hey! How did the meeting go?
I stare at the message. I told her about it last week. She was so excited for me.
Joelle: Didn't get it. Owner gave it to his son.
Collette: What!
Joelle: I did get a pay rise to mentor his son who has just graduated.
Collette: Are you serious? That's such bullshit. I'm so sorry, Jo.
Joelle: It is what it is.
Collette: No, it's not. You deserved that job.
Joelle: I know but I can't change anything.
Collette: Does that mean you're coming home?
Joelle: No.
Collette: Why not? You're not going to stay there?
Joelle: I can't leave it either because of my visa.
Collette: You can't stay either.
Joelle: I don't know what to do right now.
Collette: We miss you. You should be in New York with us.
Joelle: Still need a visa for that.
Collette: True. I'm sure we could sort something out.
Joelle: Maybe. But it won't be tonight. I've drowned my sorrows in wine and my brain is mush.
Collette: Totally understand. Call me if you need to vent.
Joelle: Will do.
Collette: Love you. Miss you.
Joelle: Me too.
I set my phone down and Polly refills my wine.
"To nepotism," she says sarcastically, raising her glass.
"To nepotism," I grumble as we clink glasses.
It's been a couple of days since I found out I didn't get the promotion.
Now everyone in the club knows, thanks to the email from David that I opened this morning announcing his son's appointment.
It was nice to see the club be as outraged over it as I was.
The team is standing behind me. By the time I get home, I'm mentally exhausted.
I really tried to rally and not let the disappointment pull me under because I still need to be professional at work.
But it's draining. I just crash out in bed as soon as I get home and stare at the ceiling.
"Universe, I need a sign. What the hell am I going to do?" It's the question that's been running through my mind since Monday, and I honestly don't know what to do. Then my phone rings, making me jump. "That was quick, universe." I chuckle as I grab it and see it's my sister calling.
"Hey," I answer.
"Hey. You sound exhausted?"
"That's because I am. I just got home. I'm currently lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, hoping for a sign from the universe to tell me what to do."
She bursts out laughing. "That's so freaky because I think you just spoke your answer into existence."
Huh?
"Because I'm calling you about that."
"About what?"
"About what to do next," she tells me. "One of our physios, who's pregnant has been having problems, and has been given orders due to complications with her pregnancy that she has to stop working."
"Oh no, is she okay?"
"She will be. Just bed rest," my sister explains. "Management is starting to look for a temporary replacement. Maybe permanent, depending on if she comes back."
What is she saying?
"They've asked around if we know anyone and I suggested you."
"You did?" I gasp.
"So did Pierre and Felix. They've mentioned you're one of the best physios they've ever worked with. And not because you're family. That you're brilliant. Professional. They talked up your stats at the rugby club."
"They did?"
"Yeah. And um ... they looked you up and are interested," she tells me.
"Lettie ..."
"I know it's a lot. But I wanted you to know. If you're interested, you should apply. With Pierre and Felix's endorsement, you'd have a real shot."
The Mavericks. New York. A fresh start.
"There's also a spare bedroom with us at the apartment. We could all live together again," she adds excitedly.
Not sure if that's a pro or con. I chuckle to myself.
"When would they need someone?"
"Sooner rather than later," she states.
"Shit."
"I know. But think about it. Better pay. Better facilities. Closer to family."
My mind is racing. I'm excited but also nervous. Could I seriously think about packing up and moving to New York? Give up my life in London?
"Send me the details?" I tell her.
"Already done. Check your email."
I pull up my inbox, see the email, and scan it. The salary is almost double what I make now, and the benefits look incredible.
"Jo? You still there?" Collette asks.
I'd completely forgotten I was still on the phone with her.
"Yeah. I'm here."
"Look, I'm not trying to pressure you. But I miss you. We all do. After what happened with that promotion, maybe this is a sign for a fresh start."
Maybe it is. "Let me think about it. Tell the boys thank you for advocating for me."
"Of course. But don't take too long. They're interviewing candidates next week."
"I'll let you know."
"Good. Love you."
"Love you too."
I hang up. Holy shit. I stare at the job posting for Manhattan Mavericks. New York with my family, it’s a real opportunity. Is this nepotism though? No. You can do the job. And they wouldn't be hiring you just because your family says so. It would be on merit. I forward the email to Polly.
Moments later my bedroom door bursts open. "Do it." She squeals.
"You think?”
Polly nods enthusiastically. "Yes. I would miss you. But you would be with your family. Plus, I love New York. So, I could come over and visit you, and you could introduce me to hot hockey players."
"I don't want to get my hopes up. I probably wouldn't get it."
"Bullshit. You are brilliant at your job. They would kill to have you."
"My home is in London."
"You've made a home here. But you can make a home there, too.
Unless you want to play mentor." She smirks, raising a brow at me.
I glare at her, which makes her laugh. "That's your answer.
Look, why don't you apply and see what happens?
If nothing happens, then you stay in London.
If they offer you the job, you move to New York. "
"What about the apartment?" I ask her.
"I'll survive. Tate's lease ends in a couple of months. I could mention it to her."
I nod. I wouldn't want to leave Polly in the lurch. "It's going to suck if we live halfway across the world from each other."
"I know. But I wouldn't be a good friend if I tried to keep you here for selfish reasons." She pouts.
"You’d better come visit me if I get this job," I warn her.
"Of course. And you will always have a place to stay here."
"So, I'm doing this?" I ask her.
"Yes. Go. Send your resume and show them they would be stupid not to hire you," she says, walking out of my room.
She's right. I open my laptop, pull up the application, and start filling it out.