I want to say something, to point out that Fear in a Helmet was my breakthrough, that Banks’s involvement with the team is minimal, to pitch the benefits of a full-time mental performance coach, but the words are lodged in my throat.
Towers turns to me. “Ms. Washington, it was nice to meet you. I hope next time we’ll have an opportunity to chat more about your role with the team.”
I nod, unable to find the right words, and then he’s gone, leaving me alone with Banks.
“Did you tell him that Fear in a Hat was your idea?” I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. Want him to look me in the eye and admit what he did.
“You should be thanking me right now. I did you a favor.” Banks straightens, doing his best to look down his nose at me. “Do you have any idea how it looks to blow off a meeting with the GM? I thought it best not to draw attention to your absence.”
I clench my hands at my sides. My nails dig into the fleshy part of my palms, but I welcome the pain. “I only missed the meeting because you put the wrong time on the invitation.”
Banks is unfazed by the accusation. “Is that what happened? I’ll remind Judy to be more careful in the future.”
Of course he’s using his assistant as a scapegoat. I’d expect nothing less at this point.
“What’s done is done,” he says. “You need to forget about this meeting and focus on your work with the team. You heard Towers. He’s pleased with the way things are going. If the team keeps winning, there just might be a place for you next year after all.”
Banks is only dangling the carrot to make me comply, and as much as I’d like to tell him to pound sand, I’m not going to do it. No matter how furious I am right now, I can’t afford to make waves. Not when things are finally starting to come together.
He clears his throat. “I won’t have time to stop by the training facility next week, but let me know if there are any major developments.”
Oh, I’ll let him know alright.
He turns to go and then pauses, as if he’s just had a thought. “You can skip the weekly report this week since we’re in lockstep.”
His tone is condescending, as if he’s doing me a favor. Like throwing me a bone will make up for the fact that he squeezed me out of the GM meeting and took credit for my work.
The audacity of this man is staggering.
Banks stares at me for a long moment, as if waiting for me to thank him. When he realizes it’s not going to happen, he boards the elevator and leaves without so much as a goodbye.
“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you have to start standing up for yourself,” Emerson says when I rejoin her. “If you don’t, that man will continue to shit all over you.”
“Wow. Tell me what you really think,” I deadpan, ready to throw this entire day in the trash.
She holds up her palms in self-defense. “I know I’m just a lowly intern, but I see a lot more than people think, and that man is a narcissistic asshole.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.” I snort. “I think it might actually be a job requirement.”
“Come on.” Emerson hooks her arm through mine. “There’s something I want you to see.”
She leads me out of reception and into the open-concept office space of the Gliders admin team. Her desk is in the middle of what can only be described as a greige cubicle farm. It’s as far from the windows as you can get, which I guess tracks for an intern, but she’s made the space her own by tacking up pictures and adding some colorful planters.
“Check this out,” she says, pulling up a video on her computer.
The file opens and Smitty’s grinning face appears on screen. He’s about to take the ice at the training facility, but the admin, presumably Emerson, is blocking his path.
She holds out a tiny mic. “Say something nice about the guy behind you.”
Smitty looks over his shoulder to see Knox. “Oh, that’s easy. Jamesy makes the best pumpkin bread in the league. It’s got chocolate chips, and it’s to die for. Seriously, if you haven’t tried it yet, you need to.”
I grin. “That’s true. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Emerson smirks, and heat stings my cheeks as I turn back to the screen.
Smitty lopes off and Knox steps up. Emerson asks him the same question as McGinnis appears in the background. “Ginny has the best wrist shot on the team, no question.” He grins. “I might have to ask him for pointers.”
Then it’s McGinnis’s turn. “Hardy is hilarious. Funniest guy on the team for sure.” He cuts his eyes at the defender who’s stepped up next to him. “Even if I’m always catching strays.”