Chase nodded, and started talking.
"Footballs," Chase began, "change pressure under different conditions. If you inflate a football in a warm location and check the internal pressure, and then you bring it into a cold location and check the pressure again, you'll get two different readings.
"Most of the time, this isn't a big issue. After all, the temperature doesn't change that much over the couple hours of game time. But it can be important, sir, because a ball that's only partially inflated behaves differently than one that's fully inflated. A ball that's had a little air let out of it is easier to squeeze, throws a little differently. You can't spin it as well, but you can get a lot more distance out of it, especially if you know that it's a little soft and adjust your throw."
Benson listened to all of this. "So what?" he asked. "The refs check the balls. They've got standards for everything in their little rule books."
"Yes, sir, the referees do check the balls," Chase agreed, "but they usually do it before the game, and sometimes after. Other than that, they rely on the equipment managers for the teams to hold onto the balls."
Here, Benson's gaze shifted off of Chase, running around the other people assembled in his office. Terry Muskgrave still glared angrily at Chase, his eyes looking hot enough to melt the polar ice caps, but a couple of the other men standing around the office looked a little uneasy, and didn't raise their eyes to meet Benson's.
"Keep going," Benson said to Chase, still looking at the other people in his office.
Chase nodded. "I noticed this thing with the partially deflated balls back in preseason training. I had one practice where the footballs felt different, handled a little differently. I investigated to figure out what was different, and worked out that the equipment managers inflated the balls inside the warm locker room, checked their pressure there, and then brought them out into the cold outdoors for practice."
"I mentioned this to the coaches," Chase continued. "I just wanted them to inflate the balls properly, to make sure we wouldn't have any problems like this in the games later on. But instead, Muskgrave talked with me and convinced me that we should see whether we could keep the balls at the lower limit of the acceptable pressure for the first game coming up. He said that we needed any advantage, no matter how minor, and that he would make sure that we weren't breaking any rules."
At this point, however, Muskgrave couldn't hold back any longer. "This is all bullshit!" he roared, exploding up from his seat. "Benson, you can't possibly listen to this shit about how I might have-"
"Shut the fuck up, Terry," Benson interrupted smoothly, levelling a finger across his desk at Muskgrave. "Say another word before I tell you to talk, and I'll drag you in front of the league myself, right now."
Looking as though he'd just been forced to eat an entire lemon, Muskgrave sank back into his seat once again, although he glared black daggers at Chase and me.
Benson next turned his attention to Chase. "So, you're telling me that Muskgrave, or someone, partially deflated the balls that you used in one of your games."
"Not just one of them, sir," Chase answered. "All of the games so far have been with deflated footballs."
"But Muskgrave said that he would keep them within the acceptable limit. So this isn't technically breaking the rules."
Chase glanced over at me, and I realized that he wanted me to speak up.
Oh god, Katy, I thought to myself. Whatever you do, don't stutter.
"They weren't within the acceptable limit, though," I managed to get out.
Benson shifted his eyes over to me, raising his eyebrows slightly but not commenting yet.
"I, um, I found out about the partially deflated footballs," I said, my words spilling out of me in a torrent of nervousness. "It started when I found some in the locker room, but my suspicions were up, and so I wanted to investigate, and then-" I stopped for a minute, feeling myself spiraling out of control.
A hand suddenly reached out and wrapped around my fingers. I looked down in surprise, and then up at Chase. He'd reached across the distance between our chairs to take my hand, holding it lightly. His fingers felt warm and comforting as they wrapped gently around mine.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to let it out slowly. I could get through this, I told myself. "At the most recent game, I took one of the balls off the field so that I could measure it," I said. "It was below the acceptable pounds per square inch - by more than just a little bit. That was the same ball that Chase used to score a touchdown."
"And it hasn't just been that one ball," Chase added. "Trust me, sir, when I hold a ball, I can tell exactly how inflated it is by how much it squeezes in my hands. These balls in the games haven't been properly inflated."
With a sigh, Benson nodded. He turned back to Chase. "And you've kept your mouth shut about this?" he asked.
"Until now, sir. I didn't say anything about it from the start, and if this comes out, I'd be in just as much trouble as the coaches and equipment managers."
"So why the change now?" Benson asked.
For a minute, Chase just gritted his teeth together. Finally, he glanced over at me, and his fingers tightened a little more around my own. "Because it's wrong, and I'd rather come clean about it later than never," he said.
"Jed," Muskgrave interjected, and Benson turned his attention.
"Terry, what would happen if this information got out?"
"Suspensions, at the minimum," Muskgrave replied promptly. His tone sounded somewhat calm, even though his eyes still glared pure anger. "We'd lose Chase for the rest of the season, and our entire record would be called into question. We'd definitely be out of the running for the Superbowl, or even any ranking this year."
Benson nodded again. "Now, that would be unfortunate," he said. His eyes moved over to me. "Especially after the Hawks were finally starting to shake their negative image in the press and to the public."
I nodded myself in agreement with him, but something about how he pointed out this fact seemed a little odd. Was he already thinking about damage control, or did the owner of the Hawks have something else in mind?
"Now, this is just an idea," Benson said slowly, running his eyes around the room, "but perhaps this would be the sort of thing that could go away on its own."
What? Was he kidding? Chase didn't outwardly react, but I felt his hand tense up on mine.
"Sir?" he asked, looking at Benson.
"As I see it," Benson said slowly, chewing on his cigar as he ran his eyes around the room, "this was a big mistake. A mistake where all parties want to leave it behind, so that there won't be any further problems.
"And that's what I'm suggesting. We simply leave this behind, to fade away in the past. An unfortunate mistake." His eyes settled on Chase. "One that was caught and has now been corrected. No longer a problem."
Benson's eyes next moved over to Muskgrave. "Don't you agree?"
Muskgrave bit at his lip for a moment, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair until they turned white, but he nodded. "Whatever you say," he growled.
Next, Benson ran his eyes around the room, locking gazes briefly with each of the assistants and others standing around the edges of his office. I turned my head to watch them, and I felt my stomach drop a little bit more as each one of them nodded, sensing the opportunity to get out of here without any further punishment.
Finally, Benson's eyes moved back to Chase and me. "It looks like everyone else is in agreement," he said, his smile making him look very self-satisfied. "And you two are as well, aren't you?"
Chapter twenty-four
For a second, Chase felt his breath catch in his throat. Benson had just done the unthinkable.
When he'd called this meeting, he fully expected the irascible owner of the Hawks to completely blow his lid, going nuclear and taking out his anger on Chase, Muskgrave, and everyone else associated with this cheating scandal.
Never in a million years, however, would Chase have guessed that Benson mig
ht consider going along with the entire thing!
Now, Benson's eyes rested on him. "Chase, you're a smart guy," Benson commented, his head tilting slightly to one side. "Surely, you don't want this sort of scandal to leak out. Not now that the press is finally starting to get off your ass. And if we just drop the whole thing, leave it behind us, that would be the best choice all around.
"Don't you agree?"
He sat paralyzed, not knowing how to respond. Benson was right. If he stopped saying anything, just let this all fade into the past, he could get out of the whole thing without facing any repercussions.
He wouldn't be eviscerated by the press, would still be seen as a hero. He wouldn't face suspension - or worse - from his team by the league, and he could keep on playing.
The Hawks wouldn't lose their shot at the Superbowl.
It was the perfect answer, he knew. Normally, he wouldn't have hesitated to say yes, to accept this option in a heartbeat. This way, everyone won. He wouldn't need to keep worrying about being caught in the scandal, caught cheating, because the cheating would stop. But at the same time, he didn't have to face any punishments, didn't have to deal with that black mark on his past performance.
He needed to say yes.
Why couldn't he speak, then? Why did he feel paralyzed, unable to open his mouth and just agree with Benson, let this whole troublesome issue go?
A little part of his mind knew the answer - and it lay in the fingers still curled in his hand.
What would Katy say?
She might not say anything, he tried to convince himself. Maybe she would understand how much this meant to him, would be willing to go along with it.
Next to him, he heard Katy open her mouth, and waited to hear what she would say.
"I can't go along with this."
Well, shit. He turned and looked at her, as did Benson, Muskgrave, and the rest of the coaches and assistants in the room.
He saw her blanch a little as every eye in the room turned to her, but her expression remained determined. "This sort of thing isn't going to stay hidden forever," she insisted, glaring across Benson's wide desk at him. "It's going to come out at some point, even if you stop doing it now. It can't stay buried. And when it comes out, I want to know that I'm on the right side. I don't want to live with this on my conscience for the rest of my life."
"Your conscience?" Muskgrave shouted out from her other side. "Are you fucking kidding me, you little bitch? This is about winning! Fuck your conscience, if it stops us from winning games! Do you know how much shit will come down on your head if you don't shut your little mouth and go along with this-"
Benson held up a finger, and Muskgrave's mouth snapped shut. "Terry has quite the mouth on him, but he's right," he pointed out. "Surely, Miss Tenner, you can see how saying something about this will hurt your own career. While if you keep your mouth shut, on the other hand, I'm sure you will be delighted to find that you receive a healthy bonus for your efforts in keeping the name of this team clean."
The message behind those words was clear, but Katy stood up from her chair. She gave Chase's hand one last squeeze, and then let him go.
"I can't do it," she insisted, holding her head high. "And if that means that I'm fired, so be it."
Benson didn't hesitate. "It's unfortunate, but that is the case," he said, once again lacing his fingers together as he narrowed his eyes back at her. "If you can't keep this unfortunate incident under wraps, your services for this team are no longer required."
Katy started to turn towards the doors leading out of Benson's office, but he wasn't finished. "And I would suggest not trying to say anything to the press about this in a short-sighted act of revenge," he continued, making Katy hesitate. "Not only will you have a very difficult time finding any work, but you don't have any true evidence, and you won't find anyone willing to support your story."
Chase saw Katy hesitate, turning and looking around at the rest of the coaches and other employees in the room. "At least I'll be able to sleep at night, knowing that I made the right choice," she said, holding her head high.
And then she left the room, the frosted glass swinging silently shut behind her.
For a moment longer, Benson looked out at the door, almost as if he expected her to change her mind and step back in. "Unfortunate," he murmured to himself. "And I was starting to quite enjoy some of the tweets and messages that she posted. As well as the drop-off in hate mail and angry calls about the activities of my team players."
After a second, however, he shook his head, dismissing the issue from his mind, and turned back to Chase. "So, it looks like everything is settled," he announced, clapping his big, thick hands together. "Chase, thank you for bringing this issue to my attention before it could explode in our hands. We will no longer have any issues with the balls, and all of this will be left behind in the past, where it will soon fade away completely-"
"No."
For a moment, Chase wondered who had spoken. It took him a second to realize that the voice was his own, that it had come out of his own mouth.
Across the desk from him, Benson looked nearly as surprised. "Excuse me?"
"No," Chase repeated, a little more strongly this time. "We can't just sweep this away under the rug and pretend that it didn't happen."
From the way that Benson's expression looked, Chase might as well have just grown a second head. "Chase, what are you talking about?" he asked. "If this goes public, you'll be the one hurt most by it-"
Chase knew that Benson was right, but he fought stubbornly against his common sense. "No, Katy's right," he insisted. "This is going to get out at some point. We can't escape the fallout forever. And even if we could, I don't think that I could live with knowing that we had been cheating our way to a winning season."
"Cheating our way to winning?" Muskgrave snapped. "Chase, you've done the winning thanks to your talent! You threw every one of those touchdown passes. You didn't need any deflated balls in order to-"
'Then why didn't you stop deflating them?" Chase shouted at his coach. "You could have stopped, but you kept on going! Why didn't you stop, even when I told you that it needed to stop?"
"Because winning is everything!" Muskgrave thundered back. "You, of all people, should know that winning is everything! It's all that matters at the end of the day!"
For a second, Chase froze. Just a month ago, Muskgrave's words wouldn't have made him think twice. He'd always known that winning was everything, all that mattered at the end of the day.
Only now, however, he knew that he would have been wrong.
"No," he said softly, standing up from his chair. "Winning isn't the only thing. Not if it's done through cheating."
"Chase." Benson spoke up this time. "What exactly are you doing, son?"
He didn't let himself think, fearful that he'd talk himself down from this ledge. "I'm going to walk out of this office, and I'm going to tell the press, and the league, what's been happening," he said back. To his own surprise, his voice sounded clear, calm and collected, as though he wasn't shaking like a leaf on the inside. "And you'll either say that you are opening everything up to a full investigation so the truth can come out, or else you'll fight the league - and lose. It's up to you."
Benson's mouth dropped open. "Don't do this," he said after a minute. "Chase, you're destroying your own career here-"
"But at least my conscience will be clear," he said. "I might not play football any longer after this, but I won't have to live with my guilt for the rest of my life."
"Guilt? Boy, it's just a game-" Now, a note of anger was creeping into Benson's voice.
"Just a game? Or is winning everything?" Chase pointed out, anger rising up in his own voice. "It can't be both! Sounds like you two have some wires crossed!"
"If you walk out that door, you're never going to play again-"
"Fine!" he roared. "I quit!"
"Chase, you've got no hope of-"
Chase missed the rest of that sentence a
s he stormed out through the door to Benson's office. Katy might have left calmly, letting the door close softly behind her, but Chase didn't have that same level of control. He yanked the door shut so hard that the whole thing shook in its frame, and he heard the ominous cracking of the glass as fracture lines spread out from the hinges.
He stomped down the stairs, looking around. A little part of him had hoped that Katy would be out here, waiting for him, but he didn't see any sign of her.
Right now, he needed to get the swirling mass of thoughts in his head into some sort of definite shape. Ever since the previous night, when he hadn't been able to even focus on drinking and getting with that stripper, whatever her name had been, he had felt disoriented and confused.
But for the first time, Chase was astonished to have some sense of his own conscience. He had beaten down and battered away at the thing so much over the years, he'd been convinced that it was forever dead. But now, despite the scars and tears, it had managed to climb back up, still intact in his head.
It was that sense of conscience that made him call Benson and Muskgrave, arrange the meeting to reveal the scandal and the deflated footballs. He hadn't anticipated that Benson would attempt to keep the whole thing quiet, but in the end, it hadn't mattered.
But now, he needed to find Katy. Where would she be?
They were back in her hometown. She had an apartment, he remembered. Where could it be? How could he find it?
He tried her number, but she wasn't picking up her phone. He hadn't expected to be able to call her, anyway. Who else might know?
Her best friend, he thought. What was her name? Miranda? But Chase didn't have her number, either.
He forced his mind to think, trying to recall everything he'd heard or seen about Katy or her friend Miranda. An idea, dim and impractical, came to him, and he seized it.
He scrolled through his phone's contact list, finding the number he was looking for, and called it.
"Hey, buddy," he said, as soon as the person at the other end picked up. "I need a favor from you."
SACK: A Football Bad Boy Romance Page 14