Page 14 of Breakaway

He shakes his head and fires up the grill before heading to the cooler. “Did you mix the pancake batter?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. We’re celebrating your win with steak, pancakes and eggs. You’re so far ahead we got time before anyone else shows up.”

Mid-morning my phone vibrates in my pocket. I noticed I’ve missed three texts from Tatum.

Tatum: Damn, I was looking forward to that latte. Sorry you had to leave. It was a great game and I’m so proud of us.

Tatum: Hey Clark needs you to call him. He said he can’t find your number.

Tatum: Have you called Clark?

Oh shit. Oh shit. I’m going to get fired.

Mel looks over. “You okay? You went all white.”

“I have to call the team office about something but I’m almost out of minutes on my phone.”

He nods toward the closet he uses for an office and hands me his phone.

The phone rings three times before a woman answers. “Good morning, Mr. Davies office.”

“Hi. This is Caitlyn Carr. I--ah--have a message to call Mr. Davies.”

“Yes, he’s been wanting to talk to you. I’m afraid he just went into a meeting. Hold on, let me see if he can take the call.” It’s a few minutes later when she comes back online. “He’s going to be tied up for quite a while. He wants to know if you could meet him at his office after practice tomorrow morning. He really wants to talk with you before the bus leaves for the away games. He said to tell you it’s nothing to worry about, just some contract corrections.”

Corrections? Do they know I lied about where I’m living? That I’m un-trained. “Uhm. Sure. No problem. I’ll be there.”

She gives me the address. “By the way I loved the game Monday night. It was so exciting. I can’t wait for the next one in town.”

“Thank you. See you Wednesday.”

I’m a bundle of nerves all through practice on Wednesday. I changed into the only set of dress pants and blouse I own before I leave the arena, hoping I look presentable.

His office isn’t far from the hockey arena. The building is so beautiful. All sleek windows and furniture. Just like out of a magazine. My hands are shaking in my pockets when I approach the woman at the desk in his office.

She glances up and gives me a welcoming smile. “Oh, Caitlyn. So nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Frame. Let me just buzz Clark to let him know you’re here.”

A minute later, the door behind her opens and Clark smiles at me. “Perfect timing. Come on in.” He motions to the chair across the desk from his seat.

“I’m going to get right to the point, when our accounting office went through your contract we noticed an anomaly on your pay.”

Oh god no. I can’t handle any more bad news. My hands tremble in my lap and my leg starts to bounce.

“The good news is it’s in your favor.”

“My favor?”

“Yes. League rules state you are to be paid a minimum wage of thirty-five thousand. Your last team owner was paying you less than that. I can’t fix what they did, but you could file a grievance with the league. I strongly advise that you do.

“We are raising you to the minimum, which is thirty-five, and an additional fifteen thousand to take you to a salary we feel is well deserved.”

“Fi-fifty thousand?” I croak.

He nods, smiling.

“Sir, I’ve only been with the team six months. I wasn’t professionally trained. I basically learned on my own with the help of a friend. That’s why they couldn’t pay me league rates.”

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