Page 249 of Just for the Cameras
Holy shit, how did she get ahold of those?
“What are you talking about?” Coach Keenan asks, now standing as well. “I want to see those records.”
“My assistant is emailing them as we speak. They should be in your inbox shortly,” Gretchen says, not even cracking a smile. “Given this information, I decided to run beta tests on the importance of the two players, Troy and Graydon. And every test that came back spoke wildly in Graydon’s favor.” She lays down another piece of paper. “Please note that we tested before the PR relationship and after, and in both instances, Graydon surpassed his father in popularity. But with his newfound relationship with Maple, his popularity has skyrocketed and, as you know, has reshaped the perception the public has of the Foghorns. Now, we have yetto play a game, and given where Coach Keenan’s mind has been—trying to get rid of his best player rather than coaching—we will see where the season takes us, but considering the amount of jersey sales and season ticket purchases, I would say you’re looking at a positive season, at least in sales. And it’s because of Graydon.”
“How dare you imply that I’m not focused on my team,” Coach Keenan says, but once again, Gretchen ignores him.
“Mr. Welcott, one of the reasons I took this job was because I could see that you were a smart businessman, and you weren’t just hiring me to place a Band-Aid on a problem. You hired me because you care about your organization, and you want to see it succeed. With that being said, it is my greatest recommendation that you not only support my efforts in fixing the leak but also consider ridding this team of the disease that’s been clinging to the walls of your facility and trying to tarnish your reputation and intelligence as an owner. I recommend you see that Troy St. John is not allowed in these halls and is only on the field when honoring past players—but only if he signs an NDA and walks quietly. If not, we have ways of making sure his reputation takes more than just a hit. And I suggest you look into another head coach. His head is not in the right place.”
“Where the fuck do you come off?” Coach Keenan shouts.
Gretchen stands from her chair and nods. “I’ve taken enough of your time. Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions.” And with that, she pauses for me to stand as well, which I do, and together, we head out of Welcott’s office and down the hallway, all the way to the locker room, where she finally stops and turns toward me.
“That should be all you need. Good job not opening that mouth of yours.”
Still in shock, I tug on my neck and say, “You think he’s going to make a change?”
“He’s a smart man who cares more about his ego than this organization.If someone is undermining him, he will get rid of them. Once he hears the audio, you won’t have to worry about your father anymore. And given that I’ve been handling your PR as of late, I would suggest letting the relationship between the two of you die. Don’t seek closure, don’t seek a conversation. There is nothing of substance that will come from him that will ease the ache I’m sure you have where he’s concerned. If I were you, I would just consider him dead at this point.”
“He was dead to me years ago.”
“Yet you let him bother you. Trust me, Graydon, your significance in this life and this organization outweighs his by tenfold. He means nothing to you. Understood?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, the need to just shove him into a wall and scream at him for everything he’s done to me, my mom…Maple, it’s overwhelming…
Gretchen grips my shirt, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Drop it,” she says through clenched teeth. “I’m telling you right now, Graydon, fucking drop it. Forget he even exists, because if Welcott takes my recommendation, things will get heated before they calm down, and I need you level-headed, on top of your game, and unfazed by his actions.”
I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make it any less painful.
She lets go of my shirt and takes a step back. “Now, I’m going to be doing some damage control on the relationship news. Don’t talk to anyone about this other than me and Maple. We don’t need word spreading, because this is a hot topic that is going to be picked up everywhere.”
A thought hits me at the mention of not talking to anyone.
“Shit, I think press are at the zoo, trying to speak with Maple. When I called to check on her, that’s what her asshat of a coworker said. I’m going to go over there.”
“Try calling her before you do.”
“Can’t. I broke my phone by throwing it into a wall.”
Gretchen lets out a deep sigh and then pinches the bridge of her nose. “For the love of God, did anyone see you do that?”
“Just Hutton.”
“Okay.” Her eyes meet mine. “Control your freaking temper, Graydon, and save the aggression for the field. Can you do that?”
I mull over her words. It’s never been that easy for me, ever. I grew up in a household where abandonment hit me every which way. From my dad to my mom—though not on purpose—I’ve grown to sit in my anger, to wrestle with it daily, to lean on the emotion more than any other. And to just let it go, not to react when something doesn’t go my way, well, easier said than done.
“Can you?” she repeats.
“Yes.”
“Good.” She lets out a sigh. “Okay, can you handle Maple, or do I need to go with you?”
“I can deal with it,” I say.
She studies me for a moment and then shakes her head. “No, I’ll go with you.”
“I said I can handle it.”
