Hobbling over, he passed by her, her intoxicating mango scent making him dizzy as she asked, “How’s the leg?”
Regrouping, Jordie nodded his head. “Healing. I’ll be brand-spanking-new for next season,” he answered, holding her gaze. But when she shut the door, he looked up and saw that not only was his agent Charles Bolster sitting by Elli’s desk but so was the other owner of the Assassins, Bryan Fisher.
Double fuck.
Swallowing loudly, he went for an aloof approach and said, “Hey, guys. Didn’t know you were coming too.”
“I didn’t know either,” Charles said, annoyed, and that had Jordie’s stomach sinking.
“Elli wanted us here,” Bryan answered, and Jordie’s chest clenched. Ignoring the need to flee, he dropped slowly into the seat that was in front of Elli’s desk and glanced nervously over at Charles. He was working his lip, looking over some paperwork in front of him. When he looked at Jordie, he knew he was fucked to the max.
His heart started to slam into his ribs as Elli came around her desk, lowering into her big, puffy teal chair with black trim. Behind her was a massive museum-like display of pictures of her and her family. The sweet faces of her five children—that Jordie could honestly say were the greatest kids ever—smiled back at him in different poses and shots. There was even a picture with all the kids and him, along with some of the other guys from the team. When his eyes settled on that picture, he saw Elli’s oldest, Shelli, was wrapped around him like a koala. She had always been his favorite. She loved to braid Jordie’s beard and paint his nails. He never told her no since she was a mini Elli and, really, he didn’t mind. He loved kids.
He also hoped that kids were in his future, but he couldn’t be dwelling on that right now. Not when his boss was looking at him like he was one of her five children and he’d been caught busting the windows out with a hockey puck.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” she started and he shrugged, leaning back in the plush teal chair that was a smaller version of hers.
“I’ve narrowed it down to assuming I’ve done something wrong,” he joked, trying to break the tension in the room. But when her green eyes cut to his, he snapped his lips shut.
“You’ve assumed right,” she said, sliding a piece of paper toward him. Picking it up, the first thing he saw was Suspended written below his name. His heart stopped as his brows shot up, and soon he was unable to catch a breath.
“Suspended?” he croaked out before looking up to meet her gaze.
Lacing her fingers together, she slowly nodded her head. “We don’t tolerate drug use, Jordie. You know that.”
He did, and he hadn’t touched a single drug because of it. He wasn’t into them anyway, so what the hell was this… And then it was like the whole room went still as it dawned on him that he’d never told her about Louisiana like he’d meant to.
“Your last blood test came back with high amounts of MDMA, and also, your trainer is saying you are drinking a lot more than usual.”
He was, but he had always been a drinker.
Dropping the paper, he held his hands up as he scooted to the edge of his seat. “Okay, I forgot to call you and tell you about the Molly when I was in Louisiana. I was drugged, and you can call the nurses and doctors down there and they’ll vouch for me.”
“I already have,” she said and his brow furrowed.
“Okay? Then why is this an issue? Why am I being suspended?” he asked, completely confused.
“Because you put yourself in that position, Jordie. Everyone has heard about your wild weekend in Louisiana. Even the girls you were with have done interviews, saying how you hurt your leg trying to have sex with them.”