Page 76 of Head Over Skates

“That was an interesting speech you made at the press conference yesterday about each staff member being worth their weight in gold.” Emily says, casually leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is that if a certain female executive in this room felt undervalued, she might do something drastic.”

For a long, pregnant pause, Nancy glares at Emily, eyes narrowing into slits. Then, with one smooth motion, ticks herhead to the side, gets up, and walks to the door, locking it with an ominous click before returning to her seat.

"That's quite an accusation, Emily," Nancy finally says.

I meet Emily's gaze, feeling the tension rise in Nancy's office. She gives me a subtle nod before addressing Nancy again.

“Do you know I’m the lowest paid Zamboni driver in the league? In fact, I’m willing to bet the vast majority of women working for this organization are getting seventy cents on the dollar compared to men in the same positions. I don’t care if you stole the trophy or not. I want to expose Malcolm Chase and his bro club in my blog, and I'll need your help.”

Emily straight up just accused Nancy of stealing the Memorial Cup right to her face. Dang, my girl has guts. I’m just over here trying not to soil my sweats, even as my heart pounds out of my chest.

Nancy's mouth tightens into a thin line.

"We won't say anything," Emily says gently and takes my hand in hers. “Owen’s with me on this.”

I am? Oh right. I am. “One hundred percent,” I say.

"With your insider knowledge, you could be a great source to take down the men ruining this club," Emily goes on. "What do you say? Are you in?"

Nancy stares at Emily pensively before sighing. "It's true. As one of the few women in upper management, I'm extremely underpaid compared to my male colleagues."

I resist a triumphant fist pump. Emily's plan worked - she got Nancy to admit her motive.

"Hypothetically speaking," Nancy goes on, "If one were to steal the trophy as a form of protest, it would be to shed light on the rampant inequality in this organization."

Emily nods along encouragingly. "I'd be happy to share those secrets anonymously. The public deserves to know the truth."

The two women share a look of understanding.

"Well, you've given me some interesting food for thought," Nancy replies. She stands abruptly, tugging down the hem of her blazer. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a meeting. I'll be in touch about?—”

An authoritative pounding on the door interrupts her dismissal of us, followed by a forceful rattling of the doorknob.

“Nancy? Open up.”

It’s Coach Knight, but I hear the murmurs of a few others with him.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “What is it now?”

Coach Knight continues banging on the locked office door.

"Open up, Nancy!" Coach yells, his fist making the door rattle.

I glance at Emily, eyebrows raised. She gives me a subtle nod and quickly pockets her phone. Smart girl must have hit record as soon as Nancy locked the door.

I stand up and stride over to the door, ignoring Nancy's frantic hand gestures telling me not to open it. I turn the lock and pull it open.

Coach Knight immediately bursts in, face redder than a stop sign, with a small army of cops on his heels.

"What's going on here?" Nancy demands.

"I'll tell you what's going on," Coach growls. "You set up my equipment manager to take the fall for your little stunt."

He slaps a piece of paper down on Nancy's pristine desk. "I have a signed statement here from Mark saying you paid him off to confess to stealing the trophy when really it was you all along."

Nancy scoffs. "That's preposterous. Mark is just trying to save his own skin."

Coach Knight shakes his head. "I don't think so. See, Mark has a bit of a gambling problem. Ran up quite a debt he can't pay back. When you offered to clear his debts in exchange for takingthe fall as the thief, he agreed. But when I went to visit him today, I convinced him otherwise.”

---