The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(45)
Eloise still felt nauseous but pulled her last shred of dignity and her cell phone from her pocket and dangled it in the air between them, its recording indicator flashing. “You can shove your threats right up your ass, Sheehan Murphy. I’ve been recording everything since I came in this room. Not only that, but I have evidence that you bribed a city official yesterday, recorded on this same phone, and I plan to make the evidence public. Wanna see it?” She thumbed the phone’s screen and started the recording from the previous day. Sheehan’s face went pale.
He cleared his throat. “It seems I’ve underestimated you, Miss Robertson. Clearly, you want something… what can I offer you to delete that footage? A raise, perhaps? Stock options? And of course, a new phone? That would make it simple for both of us. Anything you want, just name it.”
Eloise exhaled a tense breath. “I’m glad you asked,” she said cannily, circling her steps toward the door. “I want you to relinquish the Chief Operating Officer position to Lou Spieker. Keep your nose in your whiskey business, and step back from any and all negotiations and direction for the club, its players, and its staff. And I want a new contract.”
Sheehan laughed. “Oh, get over yourself, you overachieving bitch. I own the Rochester Riot. I can do what I damn well want with it.”
“I’m glad you feel so cavalier about all this,” Eloise continued, “because yesterday’s video is already in the hands of investigative reporter Tom Lyden at FOX 9 and also in our Twitter feed, set to go live at noon today. If you don’t agree to turn things over to Lou, I’m pretty sure today’s conversation will also be of interest to Mr. Lyden. Your reputation will be ruined, personally, professionally, and permanently. Is that what you want?”
Sheehan fumed silently, his eyes glistening like a shark’s, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Fine,” he said between gritted teeth. “Tell Lou the job’s his. But you, princess, had better grow eyes in the back of your head. Because I’m coming for you one day, trust me.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Cole?” Eloise spoke into her phone. “Where are you?”
“I’m at Blues. Why?”
“Great. Stay right there, I have something to tell you.” She disconnected and hurried out of Lou Spieker’s office inside the Rochester Arena. When Lou had called her into a meeting the day after her altercation with Sheehan Murphy, she felt certain she’d be fired. But her bluff had worked. Murphy backed down and turned things over to their GM. It was a gamble that paid off, and as a result, Lou had proposed something beyond her wildest aspirations. She couldn’t wait to tell Cole.
When she arrived at Blues, she found Cole near the stage playing his guitar. She didn’t see Trey anywhere. He looked up as she approached and set down his instrument, fitting his guitar pick between the strings on the neck.
“Hey, what’s up, pretty doughnut-lady?”
Eloise realized she was out of breath with excitement. “Are you ever going to quit calling me that?” she asked. “I think we’re past it by now.”
“I kinda like it,” he said, walking toward her. “Reminds me of the night we met. Best night of my damn life.”
“You mean the night we didn’t meet. I didn’t even get your name,” she laughed. “And you lied to me too.”
“I lied?”
Eloise lifted her eyebrows. “I distinctly remember standing on the curb and asking you if you were a poet. And you answered in the negative. The Beantown Bard ring any bells?”
He laughed and pulled her in for a sweet kiss on the lips. “That, my dear, is what we call a half-truth.”
Eloise ignored his evasion. “I have some news for you,” she said. “Trevor too. Where is he?”
Cole shrugged. “Uh, he’s… out. What’s your news?”
“Well,” she began. “Lou has asked me if I’d be interested in the COO job for the team now that Murphy has stepped back. I can hardly believe it myself, but Lou and I have always got on well, and he thinks I’d be a good fit. He’d rather remain as the GM. That means I can help the local business owners. I can make the club into a better corporate citizen. We can create a true partnership with the community, help it grow by featuring all the local businesses within our advertising campaigns, rink boards, center clock, ice decals, you name it.”
Cole’s face seemed fixed in a neutral expression, like a stalled video stream. “That’s… that’s extraordinary,” he said after a few moments. “Wow. Who’d have thunk?” He walked past her to the coffee machines and started tinkering with the controls.
Puzzled, she followed him across the floor. “Isn’t that good news, Cole? It’s the opportunity of a lifetime for me. This means more money, and the opportunity to do some real good in the community. No more catering to Sheehan’s hidden agenda.” She wrinkled her nose, unable to believe she was about to say the next words, but she did. “I can help Trevor and the other owners.” She paused, waiting for a reaction. Something seemed off. “You guys are still friends, right?”
The coffee machine switched on, drowning out her words. She sat patiently, watching him create his latest caffeinated masterpiece. He drank it in silence.
“Cole?” she asked, her anxiety rising. “What do you think? Isn’t that fantastic? Is something wrong? Please talk to me, this is important to me. You’re important to me,” she pleaded.