Page 1 of Tough Score

Chapter One

Keely

Walking down the hall of the Hawkeyes' main office, I follow Adel, the owner's assistant, as she leads me down to the General Manager's office. Adel is the same woman who sent me the acceptance email for my job application with the franchise and scheduled my interview with Sam Roberts.

It's far too soon to get my hopes up, especially since the reason I got this interview was because my uncle Oakley called in a favor to Penelope Roberts, the newly appointed Assistant General Manager, and the current GM's daughter. Still, the opportunity to interview for a Physical Therapist position for a professional sports team is a dream come true. It's the career I've been working toward and the reason that I went into sports therapy after getting my doctorate in physical therapy. I never dreamed I'd be in the corporate office of a professional sports team, due to my family's past. Especially after being let go from my last job.

"I heard that you're the niece of the team's favorite bar owner," Adel says.

She glances over her shoulder with a smile as if she knows my Uncle Oakley. I bet she does, considering that all of the Hawkeyes players buy a beer or two from him after every home game.

Up until I moved from Arizona to Seattle last week and started working for him part-time to earn my keep for staying in the studio apartment above his garage, I had no idea that my uncle's bar is the Hawkeyes' unofficial after-game hang-out spot. Last week, the team was out of town for their away games, but the fans all still showed up at Oakley's, decked out in Hawkeyes' gear. They gave me a small taste of what to expect after the Hawkeyes play a home game tomorrow night.

I assume that the reason I've never heard about the professional team that frequents his bar is because my uncle didn't want my father to know where he could have quick and easy access to a group of professional athletes. This is a tip my career-criminal father would have found useful about fifteen years ago. That is, before he went to prison for a decade and a half on racketeering charges for trying to pay off a soccer team to throw the World Cup for the mob.

Ever since the days of watching professional sports on the couch of my father's condo every other Saturday, per his visitation agreement with my mother, I knew at a young age that I wanted to be a part of this world. It didn't matter what was on: football, baseball, hockey, basketball, or golf, we'd watch it all.

The irony is that the man who brought me to my first love is also the man responsible for the six-month gap in my resume and the reason why I moved to Seattle from Arizona. I needed to get out of the city that knows too much of my family's dirty laundry.

He went away when I was in eighth grade and now at twenty-nine years old, I'm forced to start my life over again in a new city. After fifteen years, most of the world has forgotten about my father's trial. His name was buried under all the bigger names that were also on trial for the same bust. But it was a big deal in the community we lived in.

My dad was my t-ball coach, sat on numerous charity boards, and he was the head of our gated communities neighborhood watch. He was the kind of guy who would go out of his way to help anyone.

It took years after his high-profile trial for people in the city I grew up in to forget that I was Barrett Humphries' daughter. My mother even had my last name legally changed from Humphries to her maiden name—Woods. But it didn't matter. I grew up in that city so it only took days after the local newspaper reported his release for people's memories to come flooding back. That's when the college's sports director received an anonymous tip about my family tree and decided to distance the college from me, stating that it was in the best interest of their program, even though he admitted that I was one of the best PTs they'd ever hired. Even still, he felt the risk was too high just in case the information ever came out that the father of one of their employees did fifteen years for sports racketeering.

It's not as if I was the one working for the mob and bribed an elite soccer team. Still, the college didn't want to chance the possibility that it could hurt their ability to recruit high-performing high school players to their college program if players and their families saw my employment with the team as potentially hazardous to the program, thus hurting their chances at being drafted in the NFL.

I mean, people lost their homes, retirement… whatever they gambled on that game, and fans of soccer lost their trust in organized sports that day.

My uncle had one more surprise up his sleeve last week. He told me that he pulled in a favor with one of the high-ups in the organization and got me an interview for a PT opening whose job posting had already been taken down.

I applied for about thirty other PT positions within a twenty-five-mile radius after I was let go, but I received zero callbacks-even with the letter of recommendation that the college wrote for me. That's when I knew that if I wanted to do what I love, I'd need to move to a bigger city where no one knew who I was. Or, more accurately… a bigger city where no one knew who my father was.

"Here we are—Sam Roberts' office," she says, stopping in front of a large door stained the same deep espresso as the floors, with Sam Roberts, General Manager, written on a bronze plaque and drilled into the door.

She twists the doorknob and walks through. I follow as she leads me into a large waiting room with a sofa and coffee table to my left and a receptionist desk to my right and up against a back wall that seems to lead to Sam's office door.

"Cammy, this is Keely Woods," she says, tossing a thumb over her shoulder toward me as she leads me up to a receptionist's desk where a bright-eyed woman at least ten years younger than me sits with a wide smile as her eyes drift over to me. "She's a last minute addition to the interview schedule for Brenda's replacement in Sports Therapy. Sam knows about it."

Cammy stands out of her chair and leans across her desk as soon as I take the last steps up to her desk.

"Of course, welcome! I'm Sam and Penelope Roberts' assistant. Penelope mentioned you'd be coming in. It's great to meet you, Keely."

I slide my hand into hers and we shake.

"It's nice to meet you too. I almost can't believe I'm standing in the office of the GM for the Hawkeyes hockey team," I tell her.

Adel turns to me. "Cammy is the daughter of one of our players—Seven Wrenley. She's a wealth of knowledge, and she'll be the one corresponding with you for the duration of the interview process going forward."

I turn back to Cammy, unable to hide my surprise.

"Your father is Seven Wrenley, the Hawkeyes goalie?" I ask.

She nods with a proud smile across her lips.

"Your father is a legend," I tell her, but I'm sure she's already aware.

"Oh God, don't tell him that. He's hard enough to deal with as it is. The man doesn't need a bigger ego," she winks.

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