Page 37

Gwen

“G ood hustle, you two,” Assistant Coach Moreno told Jacky and me, as we did land drills at NYIT’s rink. Coach had been a goalie overseas and served not just as assistant coach, but goalie coach. “See you tomorrow. Oh, and don’t leave tonight, until Coach Hirata says.”

Okay. There were probably practice updates or something. Things got more relaxed and moved around during break, since we had no classes.

We joined everyone else at dinner. It might be winter break, but we had two games this weekend. I’d miss the Knights’ holiday party, but at least I wouldn’t miss the MASO party.

The table was tense as I sat down with my food. Tonight was stir fry, and it smelled delicious.

“What’s up?” I asked as I dug into my food. Had the police arrested Austin or something?

“People from the NACA are here, asking about drugs and parties and stuff,” Humpy told us, expression grim.

“Oh. That’s not good. But Coach already asked us–and we were drug tested with the new test.” I made a face.

It made sense. The National Association of Collegiate Athletes was affected by the scandals, too. Because some of them played their entire collegiate careers using these drugs.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take that long. I wanted to watch the Knights’ away game. I was going over to see Muriel and Sammy, and we were ordering Thai. The Knights had two away games back-to-back.

I texted Clark and Tenzin. Tenzin was back from seeing the babies and the pictures I’d seen of him with them were adorable.

Giggles came in and plopped down. “Gwen, Coach says you’re next. They’re in the little conference room.”

Putting my empty plate in the dish bin, I went into the room, which had a table, a media screen, and a bunch of chairs. Sometimes we used it to watch films or have strategy meetings.

In the room was Coach Hirata, one of the NYIT athletic department lawyers, and a guy in his late twenties, wearing a NACA polo, slacks, and really expensive shoes.

“I’m Kyle Larson from NACA, and I’m here to ask you a few questions.” The non-descript rich boy alpha gave me a look that made me uncomfortable.

“I’d like permission to record this?” I got my phone out.

“We’re already recording it,” the lawyer told me. “I’m Vera. I’m not sure we’ve ever formally met.”

Kyle shook his head, light-brown hair short. “There’s no need to record this one.”

Coach Hirata gave him a sharp look. “All the more reason.”

“No, really, we don’t.” He frowned.

My belly tightened. Something was up and I didn’t like it one bit.

“For the record, Kyle has stated he did not want the interview with Gwen Di Rossi, beta, graduating player, and goalie, recorded, even though it’s standard.” Vera gave him a hard stare.

Since he was the only alpha and they were all for it and they were recording it, I pressed record as well.

“That’s not what I said.” Kyle pouted a little. “Fine.” He asked me very standard questions about parties, drugs, and my dating life.

As I answered, I looked him up on my phone, finding him pretty quickly. Hmm. Look at that friend list. I took some screenshots.

“Are you satisfied?” Coach Hirata gave him a look that clearly said he was wasting her time.

“I’d like you to stop recording now,” Kyle said.

There it was. A jolt shot through me.

You’d think they’d have more finesse about it. My belly gripped even though like with Mr. Longfellow, I’d done nothing wrong.

“No.” I frowned, unease spreading through me like a stain. “Clearly you’re not done. What is it?”

“Gwen Di Rossi, you're under censure for violating the no-payment clause and thus making you no longer eligible to be a collegiate athlete.” He looked smug. “Effective immediately.”

Anger, not fear, rose up inside me. But I took a deep breath, biting off the you’re shitting my dick, that longed to come out.

“What the fuck?” Coach Hirata gave him a sharp look.

Thanks for saying what I’m feeling, Coach.

“That is a very serious accusation. You’re issuing censure without warning, which is contrary to your protocols,” Vera stated. “What are the grounds?”

“Your jobs for the Knights. Every single one of them is against the rules. I'm appalled that it has gone on this long.” Kyle gave a look of fake horror.

I linked my phone to the media screen. “I presume you’re speaking of my job at the New York Ice Training Center. The company that I work for is not related to the Knights and has a tax classification as an entertainment facility, not a sports team. Also, as you can see, their website clearly states that.”

On the screen, a section popped up.

“According to the NACA rules, you can work at entertainment facilities. Most of the students who work at the rink with me are also collegiate athletes.” My eyebrows rose.

He shot me a look. “Semantics.”

“Tax-codes are not semantics and are set forth in NACA rules. Give me a moment and I’ll find it.” I’d already saved it in case fuckery ensued. “There it is.” I put it up on the screen. “It specifies that entertainment and sports facilities with appropriate tax codes are allowed. As you can see, the training center has the appropriate tax codes.”

Vera gave me an appreciative look. I loved my tax-code professor.

“You work for the Knights' youth camp.” His tone got a little agitated. Kyle, being alpha, probably didn’t expect push-back from a beta.

“I do. Which is a non-profit, with a non-profit tax code. Again, if you look at their website, it states it.” I brought up the website, which again, had that we’re not the Knights, we’re a non-profit language.

Sure, the Knights raised most of their money and helped with stuff, people from the Knights sat on the board, but the Knights didn’t run it. “The rules allow for us to do casual work for non-profits like this, and considering I’m paid for maybe two weeks a year, it’s deemed casual. ”

“Well, the rules changed.” Kyle’s arms crossed over his chest.

“When?” Going back to my phone, I pulled up an email chain. “In May, I checked with Sharice in compliance before I accepted the one-week job. In late July, I checked back in, just in case I missed a rule change, since those tend to happen in early July.”

“Show us the new rule and when it changed? I’m not finding it. Also, even if it did, considering she has proof of sign off, it wasn’t her fault.” Vera was on her own phone.

“This is ridiculous,” Coach Hirata said. “Do you even have the power to issue a censure without a warning?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Vera said.

“We’re a little busy, so, right now, I do.” That smug look returned. “Also, you do work for the Knights, as an EBUG. You played. ”

Programs like the PHL’s goalie development program did skirt a line. Though, it wasn’t the only professional sport with a program like this. Skate smash thrived on their discovery league, which had whole-ass junior teams affiliated with their pro teams, though the Maimers didn’t have one. Lacrosse had a goalie development program and rugby had one for fullbacks.

Also, some argued the NACA’s rules were too strict, like the ones that wouldn’t allow for full scholarships, while limiting our opportunities to earn money. We made lots for our universities, yet many of us barely got by. Austin and I weren’t the only ones making our dinners from ingredients gotten at the campus needs pantry.

“I don’t get paid, and the program is approved by the NACA. Here is the forwarded email from the appropriate department, certifying this year’s program and approving our contracts.” I pulled that up, glad I had it. “What else do you need, Kyle? Everything I do is above board, and I have proof.”

Kyle seethed. “Well, you’re still censured. Here is the letter.”

He threw it up on the screen.

“Kyle, you can’t censure her for not doing anything wrong. Clearly she broke no rules, this is ridiculous.” Coach Hirata gave him an angry mom stare.

“Should I just call my lawyer? You know what, I’ll call her. She’ll sort this out.” My belly turned. That letter looked pretty official to me. Just because they were wrong, didn’t mean they couldn’t do it. Also, she’d left me a few messages, I’d just been too busy to call her back.

Vera nodded. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Put her in touch with me. I’m going to need to kick this up. I will also file a complaint for lack of procedure. Kyle, this is just silly.”

“Gwen, why do you have a lawyer?” Coach looked worried.

“Because of everything happening with my ex, Bronson Deloitte. Not that I’m accusing the NACA of retaliation. They’d never punish me on behalf of a professional sports team for fleeing an abusive ex, or for pursuing legal recourse in a hit-and-run accident, where professional athletes broke the law. Even if you're personal friends with Derick Deloitte, who was driving the car that hit me.” I pulled up a picture of him and Derick from his social media. “But you’re all professionals.” I gave him a simpering look.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. Drop it right now and you might keep your job,” Vera told him. “I’m reporting all of this. You have better things to do than harass betas, and that is exactly what this is–designation harassment.”

“Do you want me to censure the entire team? I mean, you could file an appeal, but we’re so backed up right now, it might not happen until after graduation. What a pity.” Kyle showed no remorse.

My skin crawled, because he was right. I could easily be forced to sit out the rest of my season, because of a ‘clerical error.’

As much as I wanted to punch him or yell or scream or cry, I didn’t. It wouldn't help my situation.

“I don’t believe you. I’m going to call your boss,” Coach Hirata said.

“Go for it. I’m going to get something to drink, then I’ll be back for the next one. We’re done here.” Kyle dismissed me with his hand, then left the room.

I didn’t stop recording. “Am I actually censured?”

Fear crept through me. I wasn’t ready for my career to be over for non-reasons. Not to mention some PHL teams might be hesitant to sign a player that had been censured even if it was erroneous.

“I need to make some calls. Depending on whether this is real or not, you might have to miss a game or two, but I highly doubt it is. I’m guessing he wanted you to quit.” Coach Hirata looked up at the picture. “That is bullshit.”

I sighed. “Austin, Bronson Deloitte, warned me that his family would try to ruin me.”

“I hate entitled alphas.” Vera sighed. “Go home, Gwen. We’ll be in touch tomorrow. Call your lawyer. This is bullshit and he knows it. Send me everything you showed me. Your record-keeping is sublime. Legal science major?”

“Forensic accounting. Thanks.” With a sigh, I stopped the recording, got my stuff, and left.

Tears pricked my eyes as I sloshed through the cold darkness to the subway. I called my lawyer and agent and left them messages. No, I didn’t want to let him win.

But sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, the assholes did.