Chapter Twenty-Four
Two hours later, sweating and tired, Georgia had worked hard enough to settle herself back in her body.
Her phone was still going like crazy, the lock screen lighting up with messages, automated Google alerts for her name and push notifications from news sites.
The pit of anxiety, of hurt was still there, bubbling away, but she felt more grounded.
Her team hadn’t turned on her, hadn’t turned away from her.
They believed in her, even if Matt didn’t.
The session finished, and they streamed from the gym, heading for the cafeteria and lunch.
“Hotch.” It was Maggie, and the pit in Georgia’s stomach hit boiling point. “Can I borrow you briefly?”
“Yeah,” she said, the word almost sticking in her throat. “Sure.”
She followed Maggie down the corridors towards her office, freezing in the doorway. Waiting for her, propped against the desk like a disappointed headmistress was the Westcliffe PR manager, Caroline.
Oh.
This looked like consequences.
Georgia had always tried to steer clear of Caroline when she could.
She’d always given off Regina George vibes, pre-bus.
Or Emily, in the Devil Wears Prada. Maybe even Miranda Priestly, except without the one touching moment of vulnerability that made her human.
She had half the team terrified of her, and the other half in love with her in some kind of twisted, masochistic way. Georgia was firmly in the first camp.
“So, Georgia,” Caroline said, crossing one ankle over the other, her skirt tight around her thighs. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, twisted neatly into a clip at the back of her head. “We need to have a little chat.”
Georgia hesitated.
“Sit down, Hotch,” Maggie said neutrally. It was almost an echo of the morning she’d offered Georgia the captaincy. Then, Georgia had fretted, worried that she was in trouble. Now she knew she was.
Georgia sat down in the same chair as before.
Caroline put her hands down on the desk, either side of her thighs, and forced a tight smile. “Loved the passion, the fire.” She didn’t sound sincere. She paused for a second, considering her next words carefully. “You’ve certainly made an impact.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Georgia said. “I know I shouldn’t have said it, but Tommy was just so…”
Caroline cut in.
“You’ve heard the saying, I’m sure, that all publicity is good publicity.
” She was so posh, her voice practically dripped with plums. It was the definitely the voice of someone wo had at least three ponies growing up, probably as many nannies.
“The trouble is, we need the women’s game, in particular, to be family-friendly. Uncontroversial.”
She reached behind her for a piece of printed paper and waved it in Georgia’s face too fast for her to make out any details.
“Look at the ads that run during our women’s games.
Building societies. Multivitamins. Baby powder.
Do you think Waitrose wants their name anywhere near a viral video where our captain swears a blue streak a mile wide and threatens to snap a man in half?
We’re supposed to be inspiring girls, not alienating their daddies. ”
“The men swear all the time,” Georgia pointed out. “They have full-on fist fights on the pitch. They spit everywhere. Sleep with each other’s wives. How is that family-friendly?”
Caroline spread her hands wide as though it should be obvious. “That’s the men, Georgia. It’s masculine, rugged. Our audience love it, when it’s the men.”
Georgia swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her eyes were pricking with tears, and she blinked fiercely.
“The truth is, Hotch,” Maggie said when Georgia didn’t speak, “that the men’s team brings in more than eighty percent of the club’s revenue.
We’re profitable, as the women’s side, but nowhere near the scale of the men.
” She twisted her mouth into a sympathetic smile.
We’ve all thought it, she’d said. She’d thought it, but Maggie had better sense than to say it.
“The board is worried that if your interview upsets the core fans, who are men, that we will lose sponsors. And they can’t afford to do that. ”
Georgia looked down at her feet, at her bright pink trainers, the way they contrasted with her white socks, her tanned legs.
She could have put the whole team at risk, their salaries, their livelihoods.
Some of the girls had families and had children relying on them.
They might agree with her, be frustrated too, but they wouldn’t want to lose their jobs over it.
It wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t going to change.
She fiddled with the leather of her bracelet, twisting the strands together, pinching the skin underneath. Some role model. Losing control, risking her own career and everyone else’s. She didn’t look up. “Do you need me to apologise?”
“Yes.” Caroline and Maggie spoke at the same time.
“I’ve prepared a statement for you,” Caroline continued. “A press release. Even a little Instagram graphic for you to post. Emotions, tiredness, hormones, that kind of thing.”
Hormones. Georgia scoffed, then caught herself.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I can do that.”
It wasn’t a lie, after all. She had been tired, she had been emotional.
Caroline sniffed. “We’re also going to need you to speak to Nia.”
The team psychologist. The one they sent Fleur to, right before she crashed out of the captaincy, and then out of the team for good.
“I don’t need to speak to Nia,” Georgia cut in. “I had a shit weekend in my personal life. I was feeling emotional, and Tommy just pushed those same buttons, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”
Georgia looked to Maggie for help, but Maggie simply sat there, her eyes fixed firmly on the selection whiteboard on her wall. She wouldn’t make eye contact.
“No,” Caroline agreed. “I’m sure it won’t.
Part of ensuring that is a little chat with Nia.
And some media training, which – mea culpa – I really should have arranged for you earlier.
” She held up her hands and gave a fake little chuckle that set Georgia’s teeth on edge.
“We’re going to cover social media too, as you seem to have a little commenting problem. Something about a slug?”
Shit.
She had done that too. Would have said more, if Erin hadn’t prised the phone from her hands. Maybe she did need to see Nia.
She certainly felt out of control.
They’d put her in as captain to be a steady pair of hands. Steady, reliable. Not to threaten the whole team’s income because the guy she’d been dating hurt her feelings. She needed to be better, be less unpredictable, both on and off the pitch. Be marketable, as Caroline had said.
“Okay.” Georgia slumped in her chair. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”
Georgia’s name was still up on Maggie’s whiteboard. For now. As long as she played along with Caroline’s spin, as long as she stayed palatable. She would just have to make sure she was.