He laughed. “We’re going next door. And for somebody who doesn’t like it here, you sure as hell fit in.”
“Eh, I grew up around football players. I can talk shit as well as any of you.”
When we got into the other building, he pushed the button to call the executive elevator.
I stopped dead. “No. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going up there unless someone’s dying. And if it’s Dick, he can just fucking die.”
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to trust me on this.”
He held out a hand I grudgingly took, and I let him pull me in to the elevator. When we stopped climbing, the doors opened into the waiting room for Dick’s office. His secretary gave me a thumbs-up as I walked by.
Huh? What was that about? “Hayes?”
He ignored me, pecked on the door, and a deep male voice answered, “Come in.” It wasn’t Dick’s vomit-inducing tone I heard, either. Walker opened the door and made an after-you gesture, following me in.
Dick was behind his desk trying to look like the king of the castle, but I could see the way he tapped his fingers on the desk. He was uncomfortable.
But the other man wasn’t.
He leaned a hip on the credenza. I hadn’t seen him since I was a little girl. I was seven, and my father’s team had just won the championship.
Mike Brennan had been on the field with the players and families while confetti rained down on our heads. He was nearly as big as my father. I didn’t know his name at the time, but he bent down on one knee and booped my nose. I giggled. “I’ve got a secret,” he said. “Would you like to know what it is?”
I nodded, and he leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “You can’t tell. Not even if Dad tickles your ribs, or says he’ll buy you a pony. Promise?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
“Very soon, I’m going to tell the world that your daddy is the Most Valuable Player. And in a few weeks’ time, Mom and Dad are going to take you to Disney World to celebrate.”
I nearly screamed with excitement, but the man put a finger over his lips and winked. Then, he stood and shook my father’s hand before turning to the stage in the middle of the field.
“Look at you all grown up!” Mr. Brennan’s voice rumbled through the office. “We shared a secret once. Do you remember?”
My smile was wide and soft. “I do. Hi, Commissioner Brennan. It’s good to see you again. I hope you’ve been well. How are the knees?”
“Ah, you know how it is. I’d have them replaced, but I don’t like the knife. I’ve been told your home was robbed recently, and your father’s ring was stolen?”
Dick’s eyes widened. Apparently, he didn’t know. “Yes. I reported it to the police, and I’m sure they’re doing their best.”
“I’m sure they are.” He turned to Hayes. “I assume you’re joining us as the team’s collective bargaining representative, Mr. Walker? Is the Collective Bargaining Association aware of the meeting?”
Hayes nodded. “We’re aware this isn’t a formal injury complaint, but a jumping off point for the CBA to decide if an investigation is warranted.”
“Good. Good. Have a seat.” He nodded to the couch on the opposite wall.
What the hell am I doing here?
Hayes nudged me and I followed him to the couch.
“Commissioner, if you don’t mind me asking, and not that we don’t appreciate the visit, but what’s this all about?” Dick was trying hard to play it cool, but as my dad would say, he looked like a cat shittin’ peach seeds.
There was another knock, and the door opened. “Ahh, you’re about to find out.”
In waltzed Darius, carrying a folder. He was followed by Mariana Lopez, the team’s public relations manager. I’d met her a couple of times trying to get things with the shelter moving. I wanted the announcements made, but Dick was stalling.
Brody walked in, and my skin prickled with awareness, the shadows under his eyes making me worry. Yet, when that whiskey color landed on me, all the lines and angles of his face softened, and he was that college boy in a pickup truck again.
When his stare skated to Dick, my stepfather’s face leeched of all color.
The league commissioner lifted his chin at Brody. “Ready?”
Brody nodded.
“Your floor, Mr. Shaw.”
Brody casually crossed his arms. “Mr. Head, I contacted the commissioner because of concerns I have about player health and how particular members of the Bulldogs organization are dealing with player injuries.”
Oh, shit! I’m fairly sure I gasped, and my mouth was nothing but a flycatcher.
Brody continued. “Commissioner, this year during training camp, I was examined for the possibility of a separated shoulder. As is my right, I got a second opinion and that doctor wouldn’t refute or confirm the diagnosis; however, Ms. Costello and Mr. Paul also examined me and didn’t believe the shoulder had been separated. I realize they’re not orthopedic specialists, but I wasn’t the only person suspicious of my diagnosis.
“After the injury occurred, I waited for some time in the treatment suite for our head orthopedist, Dr. Adam Chase the Third...” His gaze flitted to mine and I bit down on the inside of my cheek. He knew. “...to hand down a diagnosis. I wandered around to see if I could find out what was taking so long and overhead voices in Dr. Chase’s office discussing my injury. One was Dr. Chase. The other was Richard Head. The third voice, I couldn’t identify. I could only make out small groupings of words, but my shoulder was mentioned. As was Ms. Costello and her supposed fiancé.
“I believed those three were the only people in the room until the end of the conversation, when I overheard a woman’s voice. It was the Bulldogs public relations director, Mrs. Mariana Lopez.”
The commissioner nodded at him. “Brody, I appreciate a good yarn much as the next person, but speed it up. I’m not here to listen to how good of a snoop you are.”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Lopez?”
“Commissioner, yesterday, Brody called me with a favor to ask, but he was also curious about the content of the meeting he overheard since he knew his shoulder and Ms. Costello had been a topic of the conversation. You should know that I’ve resigned my position as PR director because of the following events.”
Dick flew out of his chair. “This is absurd. What two ex-employees have to say is irrelevant and likely fabrication.”
The commissioner stood from the credenza to his full height. “Richard. Sit. Down. I will hear this out.”