Page 115 of Stick Side
“I’ve been blindsided by this,” Ben answered without needing to think about it. “I think I’m currently feeling too shocked for any real anger to penetrate.”
Shawna tapped her pen against her lips, looking pensive. “This could work to our advantage,” she spoke, as though thinking out loud.
She looked Ben as straight in the eye as he thought anyone could through a computer screen. “Would you be willing to give a press conference, stating that Ms. Hargraves’ claims areunfounded? A direct denial from us could go a long way toward diffusing this whole situation.”
Shawna scribbled something on her notepad. “Is there any chance you can remember where this picture was taken?” Typing accompanied her scribbling. “It, more than anything, gives credence to her accusations. It’s what’s allowing her claim to be damning since she clearly knows you.”
“‘Knows me’ is relative,” Ben said offhandedly as a picture popped up on the screen.
Ben stepped closer and analyzed the image.
He didn’t want to sound conceited, but it had to be asked. “Do you know how many fan photos I pose for in an average month?” he inquired with as much humility as he could.
“A good point,” Shawna acknowledged as she made another note. “All the big media outlets might be circulating this photo like it’s some damning proof of your bad behavior, but it’s not like the photo shows you in a compromising position or anything.”
Seriously?
The coaches murmured their assent while Ben dedicated himself to studying the photo. It took a moment, but recognition finally dawned.
“Ridgecraft Public School,” Ben pronounced aloud, as he zoomed in on the photo. “Look at the logo on her shirt.” Ben took a few side steps and showed the proof to Coach McGuire, whose good opinion he cared for more than Dodds’ on this matter. “This photo must have been taken a few weeks ago when I delivered hockey equipment to their community league. Even if we had slept together—which we didn’t—I don’t think enough time could have passed for her to test positive.”
“If that don’t beat all,” Dodds stated in an unexpected display of sympathy. “Bitten in the ass while trying to do a good deed.”
Dodds pulled a stick of chewing gum out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “And this is why I don’t think the league should encourage you boys to involve yourselves in community events. Not only do we wind up looking bad when shit goes sideways, it takes time away from what really matters: the hockey.”
And there he was again, the Jimmy Dodds they all knew and—really didn’t—love.
Shawna tittered through the screen but chose not to comment beyond that.
Coach McGuire cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and not giving you the benefit of the doubt, Logan,” he apologized. Coach McGuire still looked leery, as though hesitant to let Ben off the hook so easily, but his remorse was evident.
“Me, too,” Ben answered, glad that Coach McGuire’s protective defense of Melody hadn’t damaged their relationship in a more serious way. Not only did they still have to work together, Ben hoped to count the man among his family one day.
“Well, then,” Shawna said, clapping her hands together and pulling Ben’s attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. “I’ll call a press conference.”
“Ben,” Shawna continued, addressing him directly, “do you want me or one of the members of our communications team to prep you?”
Ben shook his head. He recognized Shawna’s use of his given name as the olive branch and show of faith it was intended to be, but he didn’t comment on it, saying instead, “No. I’ve got this.”
At least, he sure as hell hoped he did, since he had a feeling both his career and his relationship with Melody hung on the outcome.
Chapter 58
Ben
Benwasgoingoutof his mind. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d spoken to Melody. He’d tried to reach out to her first via text and then via phone call after he’d stepped out of his meeting with Coach Dodds, her dad, and Shawna, but nothing. He hadn’t received an answer to his texts and his calls had gone straight to voicemail.
He’d stayed awake half the night, unable to stop worrying about her until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep at around 4:00 a.m.
When he awoke the next morning, still without a word from Melody, he’d wanted desperately to drive over to her place and both check in on her and address the Cynthia Hargraves issue head on. But he couldn’t. After the night he’d had, it was all he could do to drag himself out of bed after less sleep than he cared to contemplate and be ready for the car service that would take him to the airport for his flight to Winnipeg.
It was at times like this that he hated his job, hated that it was keeping him out of town and away from the woman heloved. Was she sick? Was she hurt? Had she believed Cynthia Hargraves’ accusations?
At this point, he doubted the latter. It had now been hours since his post-game press conference denying all intimate involvement with Cynthia Hargraves. The story might not have aired until late at night, but considering how heavily his story had been covered by the media, surely she would have seen it by now and had any misgivings laid to rest?
Luckily for him, though he hated to think of it in such terms, he also had an alibi for the night in question. He’d been having a public dinner with his agent at the time Ms. Hargraves claimed to have spent in his company.
Not only had his agent stepped up to offer his support, so had the restaurant owners. Perhaps it was convenient they’d chosen a small mom-and-pop restaurant because the owners had been working that night and asked him if he would mind posing for a picture of him enjoying his lasagna. They had shared the photo to their Instagram account that same night, which made it conveniently date-stamped.
