Page 96 of Fair Play
I walk through the mostly quiet arena and take the elevator up to the executive offices floor. The only other time I’ve been up here was when I first got to town and they gave me a tour. I stopped in to talk to Ms. Barrowman and she welcomed me to L.A. After that, there was never any reason to come up here.
I saw Bodi’s SUV in the parking lot so I know he’s already here, probably talking shit about me, but that’s okay. He’s young, and even though he’s being a dick right now, it’s because he loves his sister. They’ve been through a lot, and this is his chance to be in the big leagues. I don’t want to take that from him, and I definitely don’t want to take his sister from him.
Our GM, Dom Gianni, is a big guy—six five and at least two twenty-five, and I get the feeling he’s here more because of his size than his title. Ms. Barrowman has no issue handling us guys but she certainly couldn’t pull us apart if Bodi and I got into it again.
“Good morning.” Dom looks serious.
“Morning.”
“I understand Bodi started the altercation last night, and you did your best to de-escalate, but we won’t tolerate that shit in this office.”
“No, sir. Of course not.”
He nods and we walk into her large office. There’s a small sitting area off to the side, with a couch and four chairs. Ms. Barrowman is on the couch, drinking coffee, and Bodi’s in a chair, his posture rigid.
“Good morning, Mr. Castellano.” Ms. Barrowman nods at me. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” I sit in the chair across from Bodi and Dom sits next to me.
“You know why you’re here,” she says, looking from me to Bodi. “Now I want to know… what the fuck was last night all about? We win two huge playoff games in Vegas and you decide to bring something personal into the motherfucking locker room?” Her voice is low but there’s no doubt she’s pissed. “I’ve already heard all the gossip—now I want the truth.”
“He crossed a line,” Bodi growls without hesitation. “My sister—he screwed my sister! She’s just a kid!”
Ms. Barrowman arches a brow, her expression mostly neutral. “And how old is said… kid?”
Bodi’s neck turns red. “Twenty-two but?—”
“Is she in some way mentally or physically handicapped? Unable to make decisions for herself?”
“Well, no, but?—”
“Then it’s moot. She’s a legal adult who made a decision to have a relationship with Mr. Castellano.” She turns to me. “And said relationship was consensual?”
“Of course it was.” That’s one game I’m not going to play. I might throw myself on my sword to protect the siblings’ relationship, but I won’t ever cop to mistreating or somehow forcing a woman to do something she didn’t want to do.
“This isn’t high school, Mr. Michener,” she turns to Bodi. “Do you know why you’re here this season, Bodi?”
He hesitates.
“You’re here because I know your story. Do you understand that? I know about your parents. How you gave up college and your chance to grow as a player so you could play in the minors and start getting a paycheck. So you could finish raising your sister.”
He looks confused. “What does that have to do with?—”
“Everything!” she snaps. “Do you think you’re the top player in the league? Or even the top player on this team? I can assure you, you’re not. But you were a godsend last year during the playoffs and after hearing your story, I felt you were owed a chance to earn your place on an NHL team. To get something back for that incredible sacrifice you made for your family.” She pauses. “Even though your performance this season has been mediocre.”
I see a vein throbbing in Bodi’s neck and even though this is basically his own fault, I feel for him.
More than anything, I wish it hadn’t come to this. Deep down, I knew his performance—or lack thereof—might come up. I’m not a superstar but as a defenseman, my numbers have been solid since I arrived.
Before Bodi can respond she turns to me, her gaze more thoughtful this time.
“I brought you here because it was apparent you were struggling. You don’t struggle on the ice but you don’t seem to do yourself any favors anywhere else. Coaches don’t know what to do with you, teammates don’t particularly like you, and your personal life tends to be tabloid material. But you’re effective at the one thing we needed—grit. A chirpy son of a bitch who makes his opponents hesitate, second-guess themselves. And just like with Bodi, I wanted to give you a chance.”
She pauses, drumming her fingers on the table. “You see, what we have here in L.A. is special. I took over during a tumultuous time, when no one believed a woman with no hockey experience could run the team. And not only did I run it, I’m doing it on my own terms. That means I use a combination of business acumen, fiscal responsibility, and something other owners probably don’t—heart. My gut. Along with a little female intuition. I felt like the two of you—separately, and for verydifferent reasons—would be solid additions to the family we’ve built here. Instead, it’s the playoffs and you two get in a fist fight in the opposing team’s locker room. I don’t like it, and I won’t put up with it.”
Bodi opens his mouth but she holds up a finger, effectively cutting him off.
“Obviously, we’re going to have to make some serious decisions once we get to the off-season, but for now, I need to know—can you play together without coming to blows? Without putting your personal bullshit before the game? Can you be on the ice together and actually have each other’s backs? Because if you can’t, I will bench one or both of you. There are twenty guys on the Rebels who would kill to take your spots.”
