Page 131 of Just One Season
Holy shit.I might have known about Mark retiring early if I’d agreed to catch up with him on a phone call instead of only asking for a reference via email. My brain tries to process it all. A VP role at DC FC? Except for the fact that I’d be working for my father directly, and my ex?—
“And I’ve moved Ron to another role. Not with DC FC.” His words startle me, but I make note that he doesn’t apologize. Dad never apologizes because he thinks he’s fundamentally always right. He won’t apologize for holding me back at work. He won’t apologize for not getting rid of Ron sooner. “You won’t have to see him at work.”
Ron’s gone. Does that change anything? Everything? It almost feels like it does?
“You moved him?” A snake of suspicion wraps itself around my ankle and slithers up my leg. “Where?”
“He’s doing a special project for me. Assessing a new venture.” Richard lifts his chin, like he knows I’m going to pick on this detail.
“Not exactly a punishment.” I narrow my eyes. “What’s the new venture?”
Richard hesitates for a beat. “I’m looking at buying a NHL team.”
“What?” I laugh bitterly and shake my head. “You didn’t move him because of me.” A sound rumbles in my throat.
“Sure, darling, of course I did.”
“You basically promoted him.” This all feels disgusting. Ron’s not really gone. Just sent away for the time being. He could appear back at any moment.
And even if Ron was permanently gone, the perceived nepotism at DC FC—would it ever go away? No matter how many promotions or raises I earn, people at DC FC will always think it’s because of who my father is. I’d have to deal with that every day. Again. Feeling like I’m not good enough for the job, even though I earned it.
“It all works out though. Now—” Richard grins and shows me his expensive smile. “—there’s no reason for you to stay away. Not anymore.”
He pauses and waits for my response, eyebrows raised. He expects me to accept on the spot. I know it.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” But I don’t want to think about it. I want to say no. And even though I finally managed to tell him how he’s made me feel at work for the past eight years, I can’t bring myself to reject his offer outright.
“Lucy. You need me. You always have.” Richard leans forward and awkwardly touches my arm. “I’ll take care of you. Better, this time.”
I don’t need someone to take care of me. Definitely notat work. I’m capable. I’m competent. And here at the Blizzard, I learned I’m more than that. I’m valued and good at my job.
Still, something holds me back from saying no.
Richard and I make awkward conversation for another five minutes, and I call Atticus the second I walk away from my father and Deep Roots Cafe.
When it rains, it pours cats and dogs. Giant stinky dogs and feral sharp-clawed cats.
I havetwojob offers on the table.
“That’s amazing news. Thank you so much for calling.” To me, my voice sounds strained, even though I’m trying to infuse excitement into it.
Ishouldsound excited.
“We’re delighted to make you the offer. You are an outstanding candidate with a bright future, more than qualified to take on this role. I’ll send through that written offer, and I look forward to hearing from you in the next week or so.” Marcie Lancaster from Winchester FC reminds me of the deadline for responding and clicks off the call.
I drop my phone on the desk and lay my head on the cold, wooden surface. My stomach twists. With joy? Nerves?
Happiness, obviously.
I’m getting exactly what I wanted.
I should call someone.
My mom? She’d be so happy for me.
My father, to say no to his job offer? Nowthatwill feel good.
My brother. He’ll be supportive. Probably find something to make fun of me for.
