Page 88 of Puck Fest
“I’m asking you to be transparent so we can get ahead of this before it gets worse.”
“It’s already everywhere,” I say. “How could it get worse?”
“The league investigating the probation process. Sponsors pulling funding. Media digging into every interaction you two had. It gets a lot worse, Masterson.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, my brow furrowing at the unknown number. I click on the text.
Alex Naylor, Chicago Tribune. I’d like to get your comment on the videos from last night. Call me.
I show Marshall. “It’s starting.”
“Don’t respond to that,” Noah says. “Don’t talk to Alex.”
“I think it’s too late to worry about one reporter,” Marshall says. “Everyone’s running this story now.”
Coach Enver, who’s been quiet, finally speaks again.
“Noah. Can I talk to you? Alone?”
Marshall nods. “Go. Use the conference room. Masterson, stay here.”
Noah and Coach leave. I’m left alone with Marshall, who’s looking at me like I just cost him his job.
“The way you kissed him in that video wasn’t casual,” Marshall says to me. “Am I right?”
I think about lying, then realize there’s no point.
“Yes. It’s serious.”
“And you didn’t think this might be a problem? For a whole lot of us?”
“Of course I thought it was a problem. That’s why we hid it.”
“Well, you’re not hiding it anymore.” Marshall sinks back down into his chair. “The league’s going to suspend you, Masterson. The question is for how long. And they may also investigate the probation process. If they find evidence that Noah gave you preferential treatment?—“
“He didn’t.”
“—then this gets even worse. For him. For Coach Enver. For everyone.”
“What about me?”
“You?” Marshall almost laughs. “You’re a hockey player who punched someone and got caught kissing the PR director assigned to supervise you. You’ll survive this. You might even come out looking sympathetic if we play it right.” He pauses. “But Noah? His career in sports PR is over. Coach’s reputation is damaged. And the organization looks like we can’t maintain basic professional standards.”
“I didn’t mean for any of this?—“
His lips pull into a tight line. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. What matters is what happened. And what happens next.”
We sit in silence. I stare at the closed door, wondering what Coach is saying to Noah.
Wondering if we’re about to lose everything.
CHAPTER 23
NOAH
The wallsof the conference room are closing in around me as the air is sucked out of my lungs.
The door shuts, and for a moment Dad and I just stand there. Him by the door. Me by the window. Neither of us knowing where to start.
