Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“What was that?” Barrett asks one of the college players, clapping him on the back.
The kid shrugs after missing a shot by a wide margin. Barrett leans in and says something to him, then demonstrates taking the shot the player just missed. The kid nods and goes to the back of the line in the drill they’re running.
I’ll miss this. Everyone at the community college has bent over backwards to accommodate us. They refused to accept the money I offered for the use of their facilities, and I had to donate it to the college foundation to get around it. We’ve honored student activity passes at our games, allowing the students here to watch professional hockey for next to nothing.
I know why everyone calls me the Ice Queen. My brash, no-holds-barred approach to business isn’t for everyone, and I’m about as warm as that rink the players are skating on.
I’m more feared than loved. Like my deda always said, though, fear gets things done. Love? Not so much.
I spend my afternoon in meetings, my slivers of in-between time spent reviewing the information that our PR department is providing for the senator’s press release. Though I never doubted we’d build a new arena in Denver, I also can’t believe the funding is finally secured.
I’m the youngest team owner in the league, by far. Only one of two female owners. I wanted to rebuild bigger and better for many reasons, but mostly for the twenty-two people we lost in the explosions. We’ve already broken ground on the new arena, and every person who died that day is part of it.
A fountain at the entrance is dedicated to one person. A little chocolate shop is named after another. Our team of architects and designers worked with the families on ways to honor each person lost in a way that has meaning for the family.
If there’s one thing I know well, it’s the pain of loss. I haven’t just lost family members, I’ve also had to come to terms with who my remaining family members really are.
Now we can focus on the future, though. The future of the Coyotes organization is bright. I text a couple of close girlfriends about meeting up later for drinks to celebrate.
Quentin walks into my office, chewing his lower lip the way he only does when he’s about to deliver bad news.
“Well?” I prod.
“Our source in the lieutenant governor’s office says the governor is planning his own press conference to put us on blast for using $25 million in taxpayer dollars.”
“Fuck.” I sit back in my chair, my good mood ruined.
“He’s planning to focus specifically on you and Senator Shumaker. They want to tie him to your father, Russian organized crime, the whole bit.”
Anger churns in my chest. Mike Mills has been a pain in my ass since the day he was elected. I should have known he wouldn’t just accept defeat.
“I’m guessing he plans to do this before Shumaker’s press conference?” I say, wondering when all this is going to happen.
“His is taking place in about an hour.”
“Of course,” I mutter.
He wants to get his message out first. Then our press conference will have to be used to respond to his, putting us on the defense.
I take a deep breath and close my laptop. “Okay. Get Peter, Brian, Jane, and Coach in here. And call Zhu Anderson. I’m not using Jack for crisis communications anymore.”
My assistant leaves to make the calls and I start thinking about a response to the governor, staring at the imperfect stone on the wall across from my desk that I always look at when I’m bored during phone calls.
The only big block of offices the college could loan us while we’re here is in the basement of one of the oldest buildings on campus. It has peeling linoleum floors and cinder block walls that are crumbling in places. The spot I always stare at looks like someone carved a little triangle out of the corner of one of the blocks.
Really, this office is perfect. I was adamant that if our players are sharing locker room and ice space with college players, the rest of us would be on campus, too. Renting posh office space downtown would separate the front office staff from our whole reason for being—hockey.
Peter is the first to walk into my office, and he looks out of breath. His office is next to the boiler room on the opposite side of the basement from mine.
“Did you run the whole way here?” I ask, standing up from my chair.
He holds up a finger, panting too hard to talk. I walk over to the refrigerator in my office and take out a bottle of water, passing it to him.
After opening the bottle and taking a sip, he sits down in a chair across from my desk.