Page 15 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Naturally, since tonight can’t get much worse, Ziggy is the one leading the charge. At least, for a moment, her terror is focused on someone other than me. "Coach Wilder, a tough loss tonight. Can you give us a sense of what went wrong out there?"

I watch out of my peripheral vision as Nolan takes a deep breath before answering. "We struggled with our execution in the third period. Florida's a strong team, and they capitalized on our mistakes. We need to tighten up our defense and be more disciplined moving forward."

"Coach, you had a solid first two periods. What changed in the third?" Ziggy asks as she keeps going with the same line of questioning.

"We lost our focus and let our guard down. We need to play a full 60 minutes, and we didn't do that tonight." Nolan comments. I watch with bated breath as Ziggy's eyes move to mine. A fire shines through them.

"Elliot, you seemed off your game in the third period. Care to explain why?" Ziggy questions. Her words cut to the bone.

I glare at her, "I don't think that's any of your business."

Ziggy smirks up at me like she’s playing a game. "Well, it is my job to ask these questions. Were you distracted by something?"

I feel my blood boiling. As I try to speak, my voice rises, and I don’t even attempt to hide it. "You think you know everything, don't you? Maybe I just had an off night. It happens."

She puts her hand on her hip and cocks her hip out. "An off night? Or maybe you let your personal issues affect your professional performance?"

My fists clench at her words. "Personal issues? You're the one making this personal. I'm out there giving everything, and you're here trying to make a name for yourself by stirring up drama!" I shout back at her.

"Alright," Nolan says, intervening. "Let's keep this professional. We're here to talk about the game, not personal conflicts."

I might not know everything there is to know about Ziggy as a person, but I’ve gotten to know her enough at this point to know that she is not backing down.

"Fair enough. But, Elliot, don't you think it's fair for the fans to know if their goalie is mentally prepared for these crucial games?" she asks.

I try so hard to keep my composure, but it’s a losing battle. My anger has me visibly shaking. "I am mentally prepared. I don't need you questioning my focus. Maybe if you did your job and stuck to reporting, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you don't quit bumping your gums, this interview will be over sooner rather than later."

Ford jumps in again, trying to defuse the situation. "Let's focus on what we can improve as a team. This loss is on all of us, not just one player."

Ziggy gives the captain a polite smile but ignores him entirely."Elliot, do you feel responsible for tonight's loss?"

I lean into the table, getting as close as possible, my eyes blazing with anger. "I take responsibility for my performance. But I won't be blamed for your constant harassment. You want to make a spectacle? Fine. But remember, this is about hockey, not some witch hunt to one-up your last terrible interview."

At my words, Nolan stands up, trying to command the room. "This interview is over. We need to regroup and prepare for our next game. Thank you."

Not grasping the not-so-subtle hint, Ziggy asks, "One last question—"

She really is unreal. She not only wants to tank my career but also doesn't care about taking her own job down with her. I stand up, unable to be here any longer. As I storm off, I shout, "Unbelievable." I don't care what people have to say about me, but I will not subject myself to torture for no reason. As I hit the edge of the room, I hear Nolan say firmly, "I said, this interview is over."

I shake my head at Ziggy and her camera crew as she turns to the lens and continues to talk. "Well, there you have it, folks. Tensions are high, and it seems personal conflicts might be affecting professional performance. Back to you in the studio."

I round the corner, and the silence feels amazing compared to what I just came from. But the silence does nothingto quell the buzz that remains from the aftermath of not one but three confrontations. I have no doubt that this will be the most talked-about postgame interview ever, floating around the internet forever.

As I walk down the corridor, I try to shake off the anger that still vibrates through me. How the fuck do I come back from this chaos? The only good thing about making a fool of myself and the reporter is that people might forget about how shitty I played today. There is plenty of footage of today's nightmare. Ziggy, with her camera crew in tow, managed to capture every heated confrontation that took place. The postgame interview turned into a shouting match, leaving us all stunned.

This attention is a double-edged sword, since it brings attention to the team but also exposes my personal issues that are brewing beneath the surface. The worst part of all of this is the realization that I will have to face Ziggy again and sooner than I would ever like. Never wouldn't be long enough, in my opinion, but that’s not realistic, and I know it. The upcoming games will undoubtedly provide more opportunities for her to probe and prod, seeking to capture any further conflicts or controversies. It’s a daunting prospect, knowing that the spotlight will be on me once again.

But I can’t let that deter me. I need to find a way to use that to my advantage. With anger still boiling in my veins, an idea starts to form. If Ziggy wants to paint me as the bad guy, I'll get ahead of the drama and turn it to my advantage. I pull out my phone and start shooting off messages to all my hockey buddies, feeling a sense of determination replacing the anger. I exchange some words with a few connected buddies, putting out a few feelers, finding out what opportunities might arise from this mess. It’s time to pivot, to use this chaos as a stepping stonerather than a stumbling block. I don’t know exactly what lies ahead, but I’m ready to take control of my narrative and turn the tide in my favor.

Chapter 15

As soon as the conference ends, I don't waste a second. I storm after Elliot, my frustration at its peak. I find him in the hallway, his head stuck in his phone, not a care in the world. Like the fact that he is trying to blow up my life doesn't faze him. I watch as he heads toward the locker room.

"Hey, St. Germain!" I call out, my voice sharp with anger. He turns, his expression darkening even more. The sight of him fuels my rage even further. How can he be so fucking calm after everything? I march up to him, my heart pounding with every step. "What the hell is your problem?" I demand, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice. "You think you can just be a dick and treat me like something you stepped in and get away with it?" My words echo through the empty hallway.

The tension and raised voices in the hallway between us reach a breaking point. "Oh, come on," Elliot glares at me, his eyes glinting with infuriating amusement. "It's not like you're innocent in all of this."

"Excuse me? How dare you twist this around?" I shoot back, my voice rising in anger.

---