Page 105 of Sliding into Home

“Come on, we both know how this conversation is going to play out.”

“We don’t know shit yet. Hoffman just bought the team. Nobody knows much about him. Hell, I didn’t even know he was at the game tonight. This is the first one he’s been at as far as I know.”

“Perfect. Of course, he’s at the one I decide to fire up a blowtorch directly at the press.” His stomach lurched. He wasn’t ready for tonight to be his last game with the Hawks. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Maybe he should have listened when Kirsty tried to shut him up.

“It needed to be said. Bunch of vultures.”

Jeff’s head snapped toward his manager. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, you could have worded it differently. Maybe worked with Kirsty on some magazine interview that said the same thing, but didn’t blow up your career, but what they did to Max was not okay. Even how they treated Kia was brutal. No one deserves that. But yeah, we could have done something a bit more career friendly.”

His mind raced as he watched the numbers on the elevator take them up to the executive offices.

The elevator doors dinged, and he stepped forward. Shit, he wished he’d had a chance to shower before coming up to the boss’s office. His nerves were making him feel like he was a sweaty beast. He lifted his arms away from his body to create some air flow.

Cal slapped him on the back. “Let’s get this over with, kid.”

Facing a firing squad might have felt less intimidating than meeting the new owner in person for the first time after he’d created a shit storm on national television.

The assistant led them past the opulent reception desk. She paused at the owner’s door and knocked.

“Enter,” the deep voice ordered from behind the door.

Enter. Who talked like that? Shit, this was going to be even worse than he’d imagined.

The petite woman pushed open the door. “Mr. Smith and Mr. Schneider are here.”

“Thank you, Jenessa.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jeff squared his shoulders and stepped further into the room.

“Sit,” Matthias Hoffman ordered.

Jeff slid onto the vacant seat closest to the window and Cal dropped onto the one beside him. “Matthias, good to see, sorry your first home game ended this way,” Cal said.

“Me too. This is not how I planned on ending my evening.”

Jeff fought the urge to slink deeper into his seat. He’d defended his kid and the woman he loved. He wasn’t going to apologize for that. But he would admit he could have worded it better. “About the press conference,” he began.

“No.” Matthias held up his hand to stop him, then turned to Cal. “Does our press liaison prep the team during the season about how to behave in a press conference?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And is she good at her job?”

Cal shifted uncomfortably in the chair beside him. “Yes, sir.”

The owner turned to Jeff. “This is what, your fifth season in the majors?”

“Sixth,” Jeff mumbled.

“Six.” Matthias nodded slowly. “Then you’ve spoken to the press several times. Correct?”

Jeff cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“And do you think our press liaison is good at their job?”

“Yes, sir.”

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