Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Fucking unbelievable.”
“Coach Holman?”
“Sorry. I have to go. I need to get security—”
“This will only take a minute. Before you make any decisions one way or the other, I need to show you something,” I say.
15
BEN
I’m sitting in Gary Pryor’s office. The GM left a message for me last night to be here first thing in the morning. It’s been three days since the incident in the press room, and I’ve been on pins and needles the whole time. Making the entire situation worse is that I haven’t seen much of Bailey, making me worry that she’s suffering some kind of blowback from it all. She says that she’s okay, but I worry that since I’ve got so much on my plate as it is, she’s just protecting me.
I shift in the chair, tapping my foot on the floor as I wait. I just want to get this over with. My first thought is that this meeting is to tell me that I’m being traded. As long as they put some distance between me and Eric, I’m good with it. I’ll figure out how to make things with Bailey work, even if I’m in another city. I want to be with her. I just don’t want to be anywhere near her brother. She brings out the best in me. He brings out the worst.
As I sit here waiting, another thought creeps into my mind that makes my belly churn as I sit up straight. The only thing worse than Gary telling me I’m not being traded and will be expected to find a way to play alongside Eric would be him telling me they’re suspending me. There’s a behavior clause in my contract, so in theory, they could put me on the shelf and off the court for…however long they want to. Again, in theory.
They might not want to eat my contract and not have me play, which would make a trade more likely. But Coach Holman was pretty pissed. And I know him well enough from our days together in Dallas that the man can hold a grudge. He can also be vindictive as fuck. He might not give a shit about my contract dollars or the financial ramification and suspend me just because he can. Because we pissed him off that much.
The idea of being suspended, of not being able to play, makes me sick to my stomach. Ball is all I know. Aside from Bailey, it's all I want. Being the best on the court and the drive to be acknowledged as one of the best ever is what gets me out of bed in the morning. It's my reason for being. And the possibility that they can sit me down and keep me from doing what I was born to do, keep me from building my legacy, it’s intolerable.
I sit back in the chair trying to quell my racing thoughts and the blazing-hot anger surging through my veins. The idea that I could suffer a suspension as a result of this makes me want to find Eric Greene and beat the ever-living shit out of him. He may not care about the game or building a lasting legacy, but I do. And the thought that this is all happening because of him makes the fire of burning hatred I have inside me burn all the brighter.
The door to Gary’s office opens, and he walks in with a grim look on his face. This isn’t going to be good. But then Bailey walks in behind him, her expression completely neutral. I don’t know what she’s doing here unless she’s covering my suspension or trade for the paper. Either way, it makes me think it’s going to be even worse.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. We just had to make sure a few things were finalized before we met with you,” Gary says as he sits down behind his desk.
“It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
I glance at Bailey, who takes the seat next to me, pointedly not looking at me. Not getting anything from her, I turn back to the GM, searching for answers in his expression. Again, nothing. I’m usually fairly decent about reading people, but I’m not getting a goddamn thing from either one of them. I have zero idea which way this is going to go.
“I’m not going to lie, Ben,” Gary says. “This is quite the house of shit we’re all being forced to live in right now.”
“I hope you realize, at the very least, that I’m not the architect,” I say. “I take responsibility for my actions, but none of this was my design.”
“We’re aware,” he says.
Gary exchanges a glance with Bailey, and I see some silent bit of communication passing between them. I have no idea why he would have discussed the situation with her. She's a reporter for Christ's sake. But judging by that look they shared, it’s more than obvious that he did.