Page 172 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“Now, Pincers, since you were too chicken to bet, you guys all lose out on the gym for the rest of the week.”

“Wait, what?” They gasp in surprise.

“Y-You don’t have authority over us,” Oscar mutters.

“Yeah, I do,” she replies and crosses her arms. “Coach Johnson and Coach Cyrus have been watching you guys this entire time.” She points upward to the second floor, where both coaches are leaning against the bar, each holding a cup of coffee.

Stunned, all of us gawk at the authoritative figures who wave their free hands.

“Good work, Johnson,” Coach Cyrus approves. “Nice to see you lift again. Been awhile.”

“Pincers, why don’t we take training outside to the track?” Coach Johnson suggests.

The guys all groan and plead otherwise.

“Coach, no!”

“Please, Coach. We don’t want to run miles for days.”

“Have mercy on us, Coach! The competition was rigged.”

“Rigged my ass,” Wyatt speaks up. “You guys were bragging the entire time and got shown up by Nurse Johnson. Be a bunch of men and suck up your punishment.”

“Ugh.” They groan in unison.

Mack glances over to Maddox. “Captain O’Riley, what happened anyway with you guys’ contracts? Did you sign?”

“Hmm?” I don’t realize Maddox is behind me until I hear his voice. He rests his chin on the top of my head as he ‘casually’ lays his arms on my shoulders, though he doesn’t actually lean his weight on me.

“Yeah, we signed,” he declares calmly. “Settled on our deals and advances. Also confirmed a fundraiser ball coming up. It was cool.”

“So, how much did you get?” Oscar pushes.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to ask people how much they make in a deal, Oscar,” Mitchel groans, but he ignores him.

“C’mon. We’re all men here. Ashamed you got a shitty deal?”

That has a few of the Pincers chuckling low but doesn’t bother Maddox in the slightest.

“Don’t think getting my teammates an upgrade to one million dollar contracts is a shitty deal,” Maddox mutters.

The pin-drop silence that follows is so loud, I have to break it for my own sanity. With a mere lift of my head up, I met Maddox’s eyes.

“O-O-One million dollars?” I can barely say the word. “For the team as a whole?”

“Nope,” he begins. “We had a bit of a tricky situation since some of the team already signed their contracts. The CEO didn’t want to budge and change the income thresholds that they agreed upon, but I threatened to walk out.”

“Wait, you threatened to walk out?” This is news to Wolfgang. He’s next to us in a heartbeat and looking at his captain. “You didn’t tell us that!”

“Didn’t think it was necessary,” Maddox admits and wraps his arms around my waist as if I’ve become a comfort doll. “That was the reason why Damien and I went in with Mr. Slavonic, who’s a lawyer. After some negotiations and showing the initial contracts many teams and players received before they blew up in popularity, we were able to void the previous contract income brackets and ensure everyone on the Vipers who already signed would at least get a minimum of one million dollars first-year contract with fifty percent advance.” No one says anything more, so Maddox continues.

“Anyone who waited to sign was able to secure 1.5 million contracts, with a fifty percent advance. Damien secured a two million deal because he provided the lawyer and financial backing with a bunch of sponsorships, and since I’m the captain, I was offered a bonus in my deal. Mr. Champion vouched for an increase because I’m apparently being sought after by multiple teams around the world, and with the social media popularity, they’re worried I’ll take a better offer before we even get to play, so…”

“How much are you being paid as captain?”

The question is from the emotionless Jayce, who’s desperately trying to hide his anger.

Maddox doesn’t seem threatened by him, so he answers honestly.

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