CHAPTER 18
The press room was large and rectangular, with dark paneling, LED light fixtures, and a tiered seating area in front of a long black desk. The Bees emblem was plastered dead center on it, and Scarlett followed Theo, Gary, and Marrero into the room as a series of flashes and shouts met them.
“Ross! Over here! What are you going to do about Wilkens?” a sharp-faced man called out.
“Will there be repercussions?”
“How will your organization handle these delinquent players?”
“Are the other players upset by this?”
Scarlett had never been front and center of a situation like this.
She took a seat next to Marrero. The clicking and flashing from the cameras was overstimulating, but she kept her face blank.
Theo was still standing and seemed particularly unaffected by the endless questions and pushy reporters who had their hands up, as if waiting to be called on, even as they were all shouting over one another.
“Are you sure we should announce this?” Scarlett whispered to Marrero. “It’s going to cause some problems.”
“If we don’t, we won’t have much of a chance to garner public support,” Marrero replied. “Besides, Gary thinks this could work.”
It was charming that Marrero had such faith in Gary, but Scarlett wasn’t sure that directly calling out an owner in front of a room full of reporters to shame him into keeping the women’s team afloat was the way to go about things.
She caught Chard’s eye as he, Jaffi, and Laurens filtered into the back of the room.
She hoped this would work.
“If everyone could take a seat,” Theo said loudly, “we can begin.” A series of voices called out at once, and Theo’s demeanor changed from annoyed to angry. “I said, sit down.”
Everyone sat. Finally, he did too, and though he appeared to take his time, Scarlett noted the tic on his cheekbone. He was anxious.
“The Bees organization is deeply saddened by the events that took place the other night. We are aware of and understand the hurt and frustration involving two of our players and will be working tirelessly to gain the trust and respect of the community that we’ve come to value and appreciate.
Unfortunately, I will not be permitted to make too many comments, as it is being handled by the courts now and it is still an open investigation.
That said, I’ll be opening the floor now. ”
Two dozen hands shot up, and Theo pointed at the person closest to him, a woman with tight white curls.
“Evelyn Matthews, Sky Sports,” she said, standing. “Manager Ross, Manager Marrero, a player from each of your teams is being charged with drunk driving, negligence, and fleeing a crime scene. What are the punishments that your organization is planning to dole out for this?”
“Miles Wilkens will be suspended for two weeks without pay, starting today,” Gary said, leaning toward the microphones.
“Both players will be required to take an extensive class on the perils of alcohol as well as a driving safety course. Whatever criminal charges being brought against our players have yet to be processed, but we will deal with that in due time.”
“Do you feel that’s harsh enough a punishment for someone who”—she checked her notes—“broke a man’s arm with his drunk driving?”
A murmur filtered throughout the crowded room.
“His punishment will not be light, but it will be handled internally, I assure you,” Theo said, ending the line of questioning as he pointed to another reporter. “You.”
“Jack Isett, Daily News,” the man said, standing. “There are rumors that April Dawson was under the influence as well, and that’s why she fled the scene. Is this true?”
“No, it is not,” Marrero said firmly, leaning forward. “Dawson had not had a drink all night and tried to persuade Wilkens to allow her to drive. Unfortunately for everyone involved, that didn’t happen.”
“Is there a reason why she fled?”
“I imagine she was concerned about being involved,” Marrero said.
“But she was involved.”
“As a passenger.”
“Who couldn’t manage to get the keys away from Wilkens,” the reporter said, and a few others laughed.
Scarlett leaned forward. “I’m sorry, but is it customary over here for coworkers to babysit and take responsibility for fully grown men who refuse to listen to reason?”
The reporter sneered. “You’d think she’d be able to persuade him—”
“Why? Because Miles Wilkens is so well known for being an even-tempered guy?” Several others chuckled at that, but Scarlett continued.
“What happened the other night was awful, and what’s worse, it was completely avoidable.
The Bees are taking all the necessary measures to ensure our players receive the appropriate help and support needed, but”—she glanced at Marrero—“unfortunately, the team’s owner, Chard Mohammad, has decided to terminate the women’s team at the end of this season. ”
A series of mutters and questions began to echo throughout the room. Chard, Jaffi, and their lawyer did not appear pleased.
“Is this in response to the accident?”
“Their team has constantly been in the top three of the women’s league. Why would he decide to end the team after such a promising start?”
“How can Mr. Mohammad justify this?”
“Mr. Mohammad?” Scarlett said, nodding to the back of the room. “Would you care to come answer some of these questions?”
Chard smiled the instant everyone turned in their chairs to see him. Clapping his hands together once, he made his way to the front of the room, waving and greeting the reporters.
“Well, hello, everyone. Um, the disbanding of the women’s team isn’t necessarily written in stone, you see, but, um, my associates and I have come to the conclusion that this experiment isn’t working out as favorably as we hoped it would.”
“How is that?” a reporter near the front with dark, spiky hair asked. “The women’s team is outperforming the men.”
“Yes, well—”
“Is it a money thing?”
“You might want to consider cutting the men, since they’re still in the bottom half of the Championship League.”
Several reporters laughed at that, and Scarlett smirked as she stood to allow Chard to take her place as another round of questions came in. Skirting around the edge of the room, she moved to the back, hoping to sneak out, but Jaffi stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
“This isn’t going to help anything. You know that, don’t you?”
Scarlett shrugged. “If there’s enough outcry, I think maybe—”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with some outcry, Miss Simmons. There isn’t any money left to house the women’s team anymore,” he said through his teeth, peering around to make sure no one overhead him. “Or at least, there won’t be after this settlement.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chard has been hemorrhaging money for two years now, ever since he bought this lousy outfit. He had hoped, foolishly, that the women’s team might help tip the scales. And it might have, given enough time. But that’s not likely now after Wilkens’s and Dawson’s little excursion.”
Scarlett frowned. “What are you talking about? He was on the cover of Forbes a few months ago—”
“He’s an idiot,” Jaffi snapped. “Everybody thinks he’s some sort of eccentric millionaire, but the reality of it is, he’s squandered the majority of our father’s wealth because he’s overstretched, and now he’s trying to sell off everything to pay off an exorbitant amount of debt.
So, this”—he motioned toward the front of the room with his index finger—“little public shaming isn’t going to help anyone.
You may get him to renege on his decision here, but the fact is, we can’t afford two teams.”
“Then you should consider keeping the one that actually puts fans in the stands,” Scarlett bit out.
“Ha,” he said. “It’s not going to happen. We need to sell this team, and axing the men before the women is ludicrous. The only way we can get out of the mess Chard has gotten us into is to get the men back into the Premier League or liquidate them.”
Scarlett blanched. “Liquidate?”
“Or sell, in a year or so, if the men can climb out of the Championship League.” He glanced over at the press table. “But there won’t be a female team, I assure you. It’s not feasible. We simply can’t afford to pay two sets of players.”
“But the women barely make half of what the men do,” Scarlett said, more to herself than to him.
“Yes, well, unless you can find an extra half a million pounds to afford the team into next season, this little gimmick of yours won’t work.”
Half a million pounds? Where was she supposed to come up with that sort of money? She gazed back at the table. Chard was speaking to the press, but Theo’s gray-blue eyes were watching her intently, and she couldn’t help but let her emotions show on her face. It was hopeless.
Turning, she moved to the press entrance at the back of the room and left.
So that was it. There was nothing that she could do to help keep the women’s team, short of inheriting a ton of money from a long-lost relative or winning the lottery.
It was heartbreaking to realize that they wouldn’t have a place to call home.
Marrero would probably find another team, but what about Akins and DeBois?
And what about Dawson? How would her involvement in the accident affect her career?
As Scarlett walked down the empty hallway, heading toward her office, she tried to think of a way they could come up with half a million pounds, but it was hopeless.
What could she do, sell cookies in the parking lot of the stadium?
If she had any idea how to make half a million pounds in under a year, she’d probably be considered a financial whiz kid and be working on Wall Street instead of in public relations.
Her shoulders slumped as the weight of her depression sank fully onto her. Scarlett had hoped to stay with the Bees for longer than the thirty-three-week season, but she had come specifically because of their women’s team, and without one, she didn’t have much of a reason to stay.
Except, of course, for Theo.