Chapter 17
Erin threaded her fingers on the table. “Anything else?”
Her gaze paused on each one of the men sitting around the boardroom table. Brian Scholtz, eyes fixed resolutely on his lap. Brian’s lawyer, glancing sideways at his phone, probably already thinking about his next client. Brian’s agent, whose face had faded from bright-red fury to mottled resignation. Randall Morenski, trying to cover his palpable delight with an exaggerated frown. And Roland Carlsson, his expression still as closed and unreadable as it had been the moment he sat down.
One by one the men shook their heads. She glanced at the clock. They would finish five minutes early. Evidently her PA had slightly overestimated how long it took to end a young player’s career.
“In that case I’ll call the meeting to a close. Our legal department will send countersigned copies of the disciplinary documents.”
“Fine.” The lawyer was on his feet, phone in his hand. Brian rose slowly, then followed him to the door, bracketed by his manager at his heels. None of the three of them said goodbye, disappearing in silence into the hall.
As soon as they were gone Randall turned to her, his eyes so round and eager she bet he was salivating. “Outstanding work, Erin. The depth of that investigation was incredible. There was absolutely nothing he could say to refute your evidence. It was all there—testimonies from players he’d asked for information, emailed offers to include them on bets, actual written evidence of his attempts to fix matches. You’ve made a great bust. My only question is how did you know to look at Skyline to begin with?”
She felt Roland’s keen stare. No wonder Brendan didn’t get along with him. His professionalism couldn’t be faulted, but sometimes his demeanor was downright icy.
“An anonymous tip,” she replied. “Then Brian’s name came up immediately as I began interviewing the players. He’d solicited almost everyone on the team, either to partner with him in betting on the league or to try to influence results. As far as I can tell, though, everyone brushed him off or ignored him.”
“Including Brendan Young?” It was Roland’s first question in the two hours they’d been in the boardroom.
She turned an unblinking gaze on him. “He never approached Brendan Young.”
“So Young didn’t have the opportunity to say no,” Randall mused, giving voice to what she suspected Roland was also thinking. “Are we still confident he’s the right profile for the rehabilitation angle?”
“One hundred percent,” she replied. “I’m sure he’s here by now. I’ll ask Sheila to send him in.”
She reached for the phone in the center of the table, but Roland raised a stalling palm.
“Do you need me for this? Technically I’m not sure it was necessary for me to be here for Brian’s meeting—his contract expires at the end of this season and he’s been aware for months that we won’t be renewing it. Brendan will also retire in a couple of weeks, so I don’t know that my input is particularly valuable.”
She paused. Roland was right—there was no need for him to join this next meeting. But he’d been nasty to Brendan all season. This was her chance to waste his time, and she intended to take it.
“I’d like you to stay. You might have something to add. Maybe some positive commentary on Brendan’s contribution to the team in the latter part of the season?”
Roland’s lips thinned but he said nothing. She picked up the phone and asked the receptionist to bring Brendan to the boardroom.
After a couple of minutes the door opened again, and Sheila’s diminutive figure appeared even more so with Brendan towering at her back. In navy trousers and a crisp button-down he presented exactly the right combination of respectfully professional yet not submissive or intimidated, and she had to work hard to keep a grin off her face.
Sheila showed him to a seat and slipped out, and as he sat he looked between her and Roland.
“Was Brian Scholtz just here? I think I saw him leaving.”
There was a hint of distress in his voice that Erin hoped the others didn’t pick up on. They’d adopted a strict, don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy with regard to the investigation, so although Brendan presumably knew the culprit from the beginning he had no idea how far down the line she’d gotten—or that one of his teammates had just been fired for an ethics violation.
“Unfortunately, Brian is going to feature in the same section of the report that you will. I think we can disclose the outcome to Brendan, can’t we? It’ll be public later today.” She directed her question to Randall.
The CFO nodded. “The terms are confidential, but I suspect the fact is already making the rounds through the sport.”
“Brian has admitted to betting on the league and attempted match-fixing,” she explained. “He’s received a one-year ban from the Championship League.”
She didn’t think Brendan’s surprise was genuine as he said, “Wow. Okay,” but it was convincing.
“It’s an ugly situation, but thankfully one we don’t face in our discussion with you this morning.” She smiled. “On the contrary, we’d like to use this meeting to finalize the content for our year-end report, in which we’ll be highlighting your exemplary conduct following your suspension earlier this year. Your story will be a counterpoint to Brian’s—an illustration of the way players can bounce back from ethics infractions to be productive, community-oriented role models.”
She sensed him bristle slightly at ‘ethics infractions’, but his expression stayed even. “I’m happy to be included. I especially appreciate you taking the time to come out to Nebraska and see firsthand the work I’ve done with the Young Legends programs.”
“It was my pleasure,” she insisted, letting the tiniest bit of subtext creep into her tone. Brendan’s eyes glistened, and she pressed her thighs together beneath the table.
“Let me tell you where I’m at in all of this,” Randall began, steepling his hands. “Brendan, you’ll remember the last meeting between the two of us wasn’t a good one.”
Brendan shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Being honest, I had doubts about the wisdom of letting you get away with a short-term suspension instead of a ban. I worried about the precedent it set. But I’m happy to sit here today and say my concerns were unfounded.”
Randall leaned forward slightly. “I’ve had several conversations with Erin over the last couple of months about how we should represent your story from the league’s perspective. She said early on that it should be a narrative of redemption, and I admit I was skeptical. Now, having read the comments the PR team has taken from people affiliated with the two branches of Young Legends and seen the photos from the event last week, I’m confident we’re taking the right angle. I intend to commend you personally in the section on compliance in the CFO’s report.”
Erin balled her fists in her lap as Brendan thanked Randall graciously. A swelling sense of triumph made her shaky and restless and unstoppable, like she could stand up from this table and effortlessly run a half-marathon in her heels and pencil skirt.
She’d done it. She’d saved Brendan’s reputation. He would leave the sport remembered as the hero he was.
“We have the draft content for you to review. I trust you’ll be happy with it, but let me know if there are any minor changes and we’ll see what we can do.” She selected the relevant pages from the stack she’d brought and passed copies around the table.
As they perused the columns of text and photographs, she turned to Roland. “I just realized we don’t have any commentary from you. Is there anything you’d like to have on the record? It would be great to get your quote as his manager, and hopefully as the manager of the league champions if Saturday goes your way.”
She intended to put Roland on the spot and force him to praise the player he’d been at odds with since they’d met. Instead Roland continued to read the page in his hands, and when he finally looked up his expression was thoughtful.
“I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t know about Brendan’s activities outside the club. Not in this level of detail, anyway.”
He pivoted to face his goalkeeper. “I’m sorry not to have offered you more support this season. I should’ve stayed closer to your transition back into the team, and I especially regret that I never got involved with the great work you were doing in your free time.”
Brendan stared at his manager, eyes wide with incredulity. After several awkward, silent seconds, he seemed to blink back to the present.
“It’s fine,” he said softly.
Roland extended his hand. Brendan shook it. As both men turned back to face her and Randall, she got the distinct impression something significant just changed between them.
“Let me think about what I can add to this. I’ll email some comments in the next day or two,” Roland promised.
“That’s fine,” she confirmed. “Brendan, any changes you’d like to make?”
He shook his head, leveling his gaze on hers. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She kept her smile steady despite the fluttering in her chest. She loved him, she was proud of him, but she’d get over it. He’d said as much himself, on the porch of his crumbling house in Nebraska. In another couple of weeks they’d be apart, and this would be over.
At least now she could move on knowing she did her best for him in the final hours of his career.
“I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss,” she concluded. “Thank you. And best of luck for Saturday.”
All four of them rose and exchanged departing pleasantries. Brendan shook her hand politely, and she tried to give him a look that promised she’d be doing much less polite things to him later that evening. His answering smile assured her he got the message.
She and Randall handed Brendan and Roland over to the receptionist to be shown out. She moved to return to her office, but Randall said her name to stop her, holding up his copy of the draft page for the year-end report.
“This is exactly what I wanted,” he told her. “Given you were able to manage this in just a couple of months, I look forward to seeing what you’ll do with a whole season devoted to raising the profile of the women’s game next year.”
She offered him a confident smile which showed none of the emotion roiling beneath the surface. Delight at his praise. Thrill at his commitment to her women’s-game program. Nauseating, heavy sadness that Brendan wouldn’t be there to see it.
“Watch this space.” She ducked her head in farewell and walked to her office on unsteady legs.