They all hang their heads. I’ve always tried to be an uplifting, inspiring coach, but not tonight. These guys need a reality check and a swift kick in the ass, and it’s my job to give it to them.
“Now excuse me while I go attend another press conference where I give lame excuses for why we can’t win against the worst team in the league.” I swipe a water bottle off the shelf and storm out.
My night only gets shittier when I come face-to-face with Jana in the hallway.
I put up my hand. “Not now.”
“We need to talk. How could we lose to Nashville? My dad’s back from vacation. He was at the game tonight.”
I stop before I open the door to the pressroom. Turning around to face her, I shove my hands in the pockets of my slacks. “So what? He’s not my boss anymore.”
“We both know that’s not entirely true. He’ll swipe this team out of my hands if he thinks I’m doing a shit job, which according to him, our record says I am. You have no idea how much lecturing I got up there.”
I throw my hands in the air. “And what do you want me to do about it?”
“I want you to tell me what the hell is going on. We’re supposed to have the best team. How are we sitting where we are in points?”
“Let me get my crystal ball and see.” I throw my hands in the air again. “I have no fucking clue.”
“But we have the talent.”
“Yes, we do.”
“So is it the coaching?”
I jut out my jaw and stare at her. “Seriously?”
“I’m just saying we’re the ones everyone should be chasing in points.”
I shake my head. “I can’t give you a specific reason we’re not doing better. Let me have this press conference, calm down, and I can talk to you tomorrow.” I twist the doorknob and start to open the door.
“I’m going with you.” She steps up to the door and I let it close.
I sharply turn back and she’s right there, her breasts pressed to my chest. After a night like the one I’ve had, the only thing I want is a beer and her. Preferably licking my beer off her naked skin.
“You’re not going with me.”
She scowls. “Why not?”
“Because those are vultures in there. Let me handle it.”
She guffaws. “You think I can’t handle myself?” She puts her hands on her hips in a “I am woman, hear me roar” gesture.
“I think you’ve kept yourself so far removed from the team these past couple of months that they’re going to ask you questions you have no idea how to answer.”
“Ugh!” She stomps a foot. I’m surprised her expensive stiletto doesn’t snap. “You drive me absolutely crazy. I have not removed myself from this team.”
“Fine.” I twist the knob, opening the door, and gesture in front of me. “Have at it.”
She smugly walks up to the table and chairs, positioning herself in front of the microphone. I sit next to her, and when our thighs touch, she’s quick to scoot away. I spot Mr. Gerhardt coming in from the side of the room and hanging back to watch us.
A bunch of reporters’ hands rise, but I signal for Jana to go first.
“Yes, Ahmed,” she says, pointing at him.
“Nobody could score tonight. Would you say it’s a fluke or is this something you’re going to have to work on in practice?”
I move up to the microphone, but Jana twists it her way. “We’ll be addressing it in practice for sure.”
I exhale and she glares at me.
“Ted.” She points at another reporter, and he stands.
“You guys are slipping every week in the standings. Do you think some of the opinions floating around out there are correct? That you two might just be in over your heads?”
Again, I shift my weight to answer, but Jana beats me to the microphone. “Neither one of us are in over our heads. Adjustments need to be made. That’s all. Sometimes the best teams go through things like this. It will only make winning the Cup that much better.” She’s all smiles as if that can mask our problems.
Ted sits down looking unconvinced.
“Sasha,” she says.
“Rumors say that the two of you barely talk. That Coach Burrows does his thing, and you do your own. Is that true? Are there problems on the inside?”
Jana looks at me sweetly but smugly at the same time, and I have no idea what’s going to come out of her mouth. “We don’t always agree, but we’re definitely a team on this.”
More hands go up in the air.
“Tami,” she says, and I inwardly groan. Didn’t she learn her lesson last time?
“We’ve also heard whisperings that the two of you were involved.”
“Not true. Who did you hear that from?” Jana shakes her head, too quick to dismiss Tami and her gossip. Jana has now probably convinced people it is, in fact, true.
“Last question. Nash.” She points at him, and he smiles confidently.
I can tell just by looking at him, he knows something from the inside and he’s about to test us on it.
“Since Miss Gerhardt is answering all the questions this evening, I was wondering how you’re handling Maksim Petrov’s groin injury? Will you be looking to bring another defenseman on to replace him before trade deadlines?”
Jana’s mouth falls open and she glances at me, a clear giveaway she didn’t know anything about it.
I slide up to the microphone. “As you saw tonight, Maksim is still playing. We’re keeping an eye on things and constantly reassessing. As far as trades, it’s way too early to talk about those at this point.” I stand. “Thank you.” I step aside to let Jana out before me.
Once we’re in the hallway, she turns around and I’m surprised there’s not actual steam coming out of her ears.
“How could you not tell me?”
I walk toward the locker room. “Give me a break, Jana. You don’t want to know anything that happens with this team. All you want are the wins. You don’t care about any of us.” I mentally chastise myself for using the word us rather than players.
She takes my arm and swivels me around. “Don’t make this about you. You’re the one who told me to stay out of what happens on the ice.”
“I told you not to question my coaching decisions, not desert your players. This entire season, you’ve been worrying more about what damn uniforms they wear than them coming together as a team.”
“An injured player is something you should’ve come up to the office and told me. That is your responsibility.” She pokes me in the chest.
I lean in close and lower my voice. “I went up there last night and you were gone for the evening. I didn’t want to interrupt your date, so I figured if Maksim could play, then that settled it. And he did play. I have no idea how Nash figured out how he injured his groin.”
She rises on her tiptoes to come closer to being eye to eye with me. “I wasn’t on a date, and so what? Because you’re jealous, you don’t tell me things, try to sabotage me?”
I give a caustic laugh. “Jealous? You’re the one who called out the Make-A-Wish mom as my date. Exactly who’s the jealous one?”