Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (21)
“I didn’t call you in here to have a debate on your ability to perform. The proof is clear, and there hasn’t been any improvement since you’ve been here.” His gaze doesn’t cut away as he speaks his next words. “I’ve talked to the board, and they’ve agreed to give you the rest of the regular season to show there’s hope for improvement.”
He looks less than pleased with their ultimatum. I have a feeling he’s eager to sign the papers for a trade, but the organization must still see something in me. The ultimatum is no surprise. I hoped I could postpone this talk, but with how poorly I’ve been playing, this was inevitable. With my head hanging, and my gaze on the floor, I nod. I’m unable to come up with any words without my voice cracking.
When he stands and heads to the door, I follow.
“Eli,” he says, stopping me. Instead of the look of sympathy that I mistakenly hoped for, Marcus gives me a once-over. “I’ve heard the weather in Russia can be brutal. I’d suggest asking your parents to buy you a coat.”
He shuts the door behind me. The insult alluding to a European league move annoys me more than anything.
“Eli!” Mason hisses.
He’s down the hall, still waiting by the conference doors when he sees me. He stops his pacing and waves me over. Aiden shakes his head beside him. I’m sure he’s caught on that whatever Marcus said wasn’t good.
“Crawford, you wanna join?” asks Mason. He starts rolling nonexistent lint from my suit jacket. This isn’t a formal event, but we’re expected to show up in suits before a game.
“Hell no.”
I mouth Asshole, and Aiden flips me off and heads around the corner to the locker room.
Mason stops lint rolling. “Heads up, they are loaded with questions, so use ‘no comment’ sparingly.”
“Sparingly?”
“Don’t use it.”
Head high, I prepare to be watched by every camera and eye in the room, and I step toward the mic. Marcus’s words weigh heavily, and even as I try to shake them out of my head, it’s impossible to focus on anything else.
Cameras click and reporters shuffle through their notes, and the chatter begins.
“Eli, what adjustments are you making to improve your goal-scoring opportunities in future games?”
“You have always been a high scorer through college, and at world juniors. How do you stay motivated when you haven’t scored once in your career in the NHL?”
“Are your off-ice activities distracting you from achieving success as we head into the postseason?”
I tug at the collar of my shirt as I repeat the same answer for each question. “I’m keeping my head down and trying not to let the noise distract me. I’m improving my game every day to put an end to this scoring drought.”
That may not be working for me yet, but with the ultimatum dangling over my head, I have no choice. I’ve caught my dream in my hands, and in only a few weeks, I could lose it forever. A high-pitched sound, like a pressure cooker on the brink of whistling, fills my head.
My heartbeat quickens when a woman in a blue dress pipes up with the question I’ve been dreading, and one they’ve all been waiting for. “Do you have anything to say about the recent reports made about you in the popular media? Would you like to clear up any speculation about your off-ice activities with the girl of the week?”
Girl of the week.
A stupid, naive part of me thought I wouldn’t be asked about that, but the media always wins. The words of that freshman at U of T ring in my brain, and I clench my jaw. Their invasion of privacy has been taking over my life. This is the last time I want to hear about any of this shit or to be referred to as a playboy who’s sitting on a big pile of money and women, not providing anything to my team.
I grit my teeth. “The media’s job is to spin stories, and I don’t have the leisure to pay attention to every headline.”
“But your fans are paying attention,” she counters, unrelenting. “You know how to choose the girls, clearly.” That gets a chuckle from the room. I haven’t been reading about it, so their laughter puts me on edge. “Is it true Ms. Beaumont’s parents were charged for drug possession, and are currently trying to avoid imprisonment?”
My head snaps up so quickly that I feel a pull in my neck.
Mason says something, but I can’t hear him. Anger grips my throat, and my chest constricts at her words.
How the fuck do they know that?
Everything in me turns protective. My hands tighten into fists, and I have half a mind to flip over this mic and storm out of here.
I’m not sure if I’m exhausted by the contact intrusion, Marcus’s ultimatum from earlier, or the image of Sage’s hurt face that flashes in my mind, but the words spill out of me.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I blurt. “And I won’t entertain any disrespect toward her. So, that’s all the questions I’ll answer about my personal life.”
Camera shutters pause before they go off with a cacophony of more questions.
Fuck.
TEN
SAGE
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Six thousand followers in twenty-four hours. After the news broke that Elias Westbrook is turning a new leaf with a serious relationship, my phone blew up with so many notifications it got hot enough that I had to turn it off.