Pucking the Beckett Brothers

Chapter 5 All Three of Them

SIENNA’S POV:

The lobby at seven thirty looks nothing like the lobby at six fourteen.

Now there are cameras. Three of them, set up near the far wall where someone has arranged a podium with a microphone and the franchise logo on a backdrop that definitely did not exist here twenty minutes ago. A woman in a black blazer adjusts the mic. Two men in matching lanyards move chairs. A third tests the lighting.

These people move like they have done this a hundred times. Because they have. This is what the Beckett brothers’ operation looks like when it activates. Not chaos. Not scrambling. Just machinery, clicking into place at seven thirty in the morning like it was always scheduled for today.

“You’re on time.”

Blake is beside me. Different suit. Navy. Two coffees. He holds one out.

I take it. “Thank you.”

“Rhett’s already at the podium. Cole is on the phone with the league.” He sips his coffee. “They called first thing. Apparently your meeting got flagged the second you called last night.”

“I told them it involved your franchise.”

“I know.” He looks at me sideways. “Smart.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“It was an observation.”

“From you that might be the same thing.”

That almost-smile again. The one that lives at the corner of his mouth and never quite becomes a full thing.

“Rhett wants you left of the podium during the conference,” he says. “Not speaking. Just present.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re now officially staff. And he wants Reid’s lawyers to see the person who walked in on their client last night standing next to us at our press conference this morning.” He looks at me over the rim of his cup. “It sends a message.”

“That I’m not a loose end.”

“That you’re on the team. Reid’s lawyers can’t come after someone standing next to us.”

I hadn’t thought about that.

“You thought about that,” I say.

“I think about everything.” No arrogance. Just a fact. “Rhett thinks three moves ahead. Cole thinks about what can go wrong. I think about what everyone else is thinking.” He looks at me. “Right now Reid’s lawyer is thinking about who you are and what you have. The second they see you at this press conference they start thinking about whether it’s worth coming at you.”

“And the answer is no.”

“Not while you’re standing next to us.”

I hold my coffee with both hands and look across the lobby at Rhett at the podium, reading from his phone while the woman in the blazer talks at him.

“Blake.” He looks at me. “Why did you say what he did was s**t? In the room. You didn’t have to.”

He is quiet for a moment.

“Because it was,” he says. “And someone should have said it.”

“Your brothers didn’t.”

“Rhett was calculating. Cole was assessing.” He looks back at the room. “I was just saying it.”

I look at him a moment longer than I mean to.

Then I look away.

“Left of the podium,” I say.

“Left of the podium.”

I cross the lobby.

Rhett doesn’t look up when I approach.

“Statement does not mention Price by name,” he says, still reading. “Does not mention what the violation was. We became aware of a conduct concern, acted immediately, initiated a full independent investigation. That is all.”

“Okay.”

“If anyone asks you anything after this, you say no comment and you look at Joanna.” He nods toward the woman in the blazer.

“Got it.”

“You are not a source. You are not a witness. You are staff.” He looks up. Grey eyes, steady, running at a frequency slightly above the rest of the room. “Understand the difference?”

“Yes.”

He goes back to his phone.

Joanna steps toward me. “Stand here.” She positions me left of the podium. Far enough that I’m not in the shot, close enough that anyone in the room can see me. “Don’t react to anything. Don’t look at the cameras. Look at Rhett.”

“Okay.”

“If someone calls your name—”

“No comment.”

She revises her first impression of me. I can see it happen.

Cole appears from somewhere behind me, ends a call, moves to Rhett’s right without a word. The three brothers fall into place at the podium and just like that the press conference is ready because they are ready, and when they are ready the room is ready.

I stand to the left.

I watch.

Rhett speaks for four minutes and he is extraordinary at it. Measured, certain, not a single stumble. Conduct concern. Immediate action. Independent investigation. Full cooperation with the league. Commitment to players and staff. Future of the franchise.

No names. No details. No drama.

Just control.

The questions come fast.

*Is this related to the photos circulating this morning?*

“We became aware of a concern and acted. We won’t comment on unverified media reports.”

*Has the coach been fired?*

“Suspended pending investigation. We do things properly.”

*Is there a player involved?*

“There is an ongoing investigation. We won’t be speculating.”

*Who is the woman standing to your left?*

Third row. A reporter with a recorder and the energy of someone who did his homework this morning.

Rhett doesn’t blink. “A member of our communications team. Next question.”

The reporter looks at me.

I look at Rhett.

The reporter writes something down.

Six minutes later it’s over. Cameras pack up. Reporters disperse. The lobby goes back to being a lobby.

Joanna appears at my elbow. “You did well.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” she says. And walks away.

By nine fifteen the statement is live. By nine thirty the framing is exactly what Rhett wanted. *Beckett brothers act decisively on first major test of new ownership.* Not scandal. Not cover-up. Decisive action.

I am sitting with Joanna going through the media log when Cole sits down across from me and puts a folder on the table.

“Contract,” he says. “Three months. Media and communications associate. Standard NDA, standard conduct clauses.” He pushes it across. “Take your time.”

“You move fast,” I say.

“We always move fast.” He folds his arms on the table and looks at me with that careful steady expression I am starting to understand is just how Cole Beckett looks at everything he is trying to figure out. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re asking permission?”

“Habit.” A pause. “Last night, before the photos, before any of this. What were you actually planning to do? Just walk into that meeting and burn everything down?”

“Yes.”

“Even knowing it might take months and go nowhere?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I spent two years making myself small for a man who was never going to see me. I drove four hours to watch him sit on a bench. I skipped Christmas. I emptied my savings.” I pause. “At some point you stop asking if it’s going to work and you just do the thing. Because the alternative is doing nothing and I am done doing nothing.”

Cole is quiet.

Then, “Damon Price is an idiot.”

So matter of fact. Like he looked at the evidence and reached a conclusion and saw no reason not to say it out loud.

I laugh. A real one. The first real one since I walked into that hotel room last night.

Cole looks slightly surprised. Like he wasn’t expecting it and doesn’t know what to do with it but isn’t unhappy about it either.

“Sign the contract when you’re ready,” he says, standing.

“Cole.” He looks back. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Reid would have been a liability regardless,” he says. “You just sped up the timeline.” Plain. Honest. “But you’re welcome.”

He walks away.

I open the folder and I read every line. The way I should have read every credit card statement I let slide and every lease I signed without thinking because I trusted someone who was not worth trusting.

I read all of it.

Then I sign it.

I sit back and look at the lobby and think about the fact that twenty-four hours ago I was driving here with a gym bag because a man I loved needed something from me.

And now.

I pick up my phone. Voicemail from the league office confirming my postponement. Six missed calls from Damon. A text from my mother: *I heard what happened on the news. Call me.* A news alert: Damon Price’s contract terminated effective immediately citing conduct violations.

I read that last one twice.

I thought it would feel like winning.

It feels quieter than that. Cleaner. Like a window being opened in a room that has been closed too long.

“You signed it.”

Rhett is standing in front of me, looking at the closed folder.

“I did,” I say.

He picks it up. “Joanna will walk you through onboarding. Badge, system access, press contact list.” He pauses. “Team meeting tomorrow. Eight am.”

He starts to turn.

“Rhett.”

He stops.

“Why did you come downstairs yourself? You could have sent a lawyer. You could have sent anyone.” I look at him. “Why you?”

He is quiet for a moment.

“Blake said you walked into the lobby alone at six in the morning in yesterday’s clothes and you didn’t look scared,” he says. “You looked like someone deciding something.”

“And that made you curious.”

“I don’t usually get curious.” He holds my gaze for one beat longer than necessary. Then he tucks the folder under his arm. “Eight am tomorrow, Sienna.”

He walks away.

Outside the window the city is fully awake, loud and bright and moving, and somewhere in it Damon Price is reading a contract termination notice and Harlan Reid is on the phone with his lawyer and I am here.

Sitting at this table.

Employed.

Starting over.

My phone buzzes.

*Welcome to the team. Don’t make us regret it. — C*

I save the number.

Then I sit back and for the first time since I walked into that hotel room last night —

I smile.