Page 17 of Slap Shot Scandal
“You’re going to do great. Just remember what we practiced and stick to the script.”
The tension headache from yesterday comes roaring back, the persistent throbbing at the base of my neck growing stronger by the second.
“Okay.” I shove a hand in my pocket and try to ignore the wave of queasiness rolling through me.
You can do this, Steele. You’re a professional hockey player. This is nothing compared to facing a rival on the ice.
“Weston…” Harbor’s delicate fingers flutter to the navy tie currently choking me out, and she steps in front of me, adjusting the knot. I take a quick breath, inhaling her sweet scent, fruity with a hint of vanilla. The pressure in my head eases and my gut calms down, my focus on her.
“You’ve got this. If anyone asks a question you’re not comfortable answering, tap the notepad and I’ll step in, okay? We’re a team out there.” She gazes up at me through thick, dark lashes and my pulse accelerates.
So much for calming down.
“You two ready?” Prince comes from behind, slapping me on the back and bringing me crashing back to shitty reality.
Harbor drops her hand quickly, blushing. “Yes, sir. Ready to go. I was just briefing Mr. Steele one last time.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Prince shoves through the door into the bustling media room and marches straight to the podium. The sound amplifies as Harbor and I follow close behind.
Cameras click and reporters start shouting questions at us before we even make it to the microphone.
“Is it true Evans is gone?”
“What about the infidelity rumors?”
“What’s the future of the team?”
Flash, flash, flash.
Bright pops of white blur my vision as people shout their questions, each voice growing louder in an effort to be heard. I stand slightly behind Prince, Harbor next to me, letting the team owner field the first set of questions.
He taps the microphone, adjusting it before he speaks.
“Good afternoon.”
A murmur rises from the crowd and he holds up his hand, silencing the room. “I want to thank everyone for showing up today. As you may have heard, the head coach, Sean Evans, has been terminated. We’re in the process of interviewing a replacement.”
“Is it true he had sex with your wife?” a reporter from Channel 6 shouts, and the crowd erupts.
Prince’s jaw ticks, his fist balling on the podium. “I’m not answering personal questions. Evans no longer works for the team. After a season that didn’t end as we hoped—with a win in the playoffs—we’re moving in a different direction.”
“What can you tell us about the gambling allegations?” another reporter shouts, and Prince’s knuckles turn white.
“The league is in charge of all investigations. I’m not at liberty to comment on the matter. Next.”
A dark-haired reporter stands. “Rumors are swirling that several key investors are dropping their sponsorships, not wanting to be involved with a scandal. What impact will this have on the team? Are you worried?”
Prince blanches at this question, and I’m glad it’s him dealing with this set of inquiries and not me.
“This team is financially sound and remains a good investment for sponsors. Many of our partners stand with us, committed to the great sport of hockey and our joint charitable endeavors. I thank each and every one of them for their support and look forward to an even brighter future as we continue working together next season.”
Damn.Great answer, enough to silence the reporters for a full minute.
“Mr. Prince, is it true the team’s leaving New York?” Meg, Bennett’s hottie from Channel 9, hops up.
“The team is relocating for the upcoming season, yes.” Prince nods, his mouth set in a thin, tight line. “We’ve enjoyed our time playing in this great city. But we’re moving in a new direction and that includes a change of venue. The team will be heading down to Florida next season.”
At this announcement, the room breaks into a frenzy of questions and comments. Harbor steps forward, whispering in Prince’s ear. He nods and moves away from the podium, and Harbor motions for me to take his place.
