Gage scrubs his hand through his hair and grimaces. “Coen’s in jail.”
“What?” I exclaim.
Nodding, distaste written all over his face, he explains, “He just called me. Charged with drunk and disorderly, apparently. Wants me to bail him out. I figured I better come tell you first, given what we talked about last night.”
And the fact that there’s no telling how Keller will handle this.
“Christ,” I grumble, thinking hard what to do. Finally, I say, “Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and I’ll go with you. That will at least let me assess the situation, and then we can decide how to break it to Keller.”
“We’re going to tell Keller?” Gage asks dubiously.
“Going to have to. There’s no way this isn’t making the news.”
“Shit,” Gage growls. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” I say, and Gage nods. I close the door as he walks away, and I head into the bathroom to start the shower. I’m not sure how life as a goalie coach got so complicated, but here I am.
And oddly, I don’t mind. If I can help the players in ways that might be a little outside my job description, then I’m going to do it. I won’t cross Keller, though. This is something I’d never think to keep from him. I just don’t want him being the one to bail Coen out. That could be a bomb ready to go off if he says the wrong thing to his player.
Not that he doesn’t need an ass-chewing. Coen completely does, but it needs to be done in a constructive manner. Otherwise, a very good player could be ruined. It’s one of the benefits of understanding athlete psyche as a goalie. I can relate to it so much.
The water warms up to my liking, and I just start to peel off my T-shirt when there’s another knock on the door. I pull my shirt back down and exit the bathroom.
Glancing through the peephole, I see it’s Gage again. This time, Matt Keller is with him.
Just great.
I open the door, and Coach Keller storms past me, Gage following. My eyes are questioning… did you tell him?
Gage gives a short shake of his head.
I look back as Keller grabs the remote from the nightstand and points it at the TV. “Can you believe this shit?” he growls as he waits for the TV to fire up.
Another questioning look at Gage, and he nods toward the TV.
I move beside Keller and he flips to ESPN, then tosses the remote on the bed.
On the screen is footage of Stone and Coen walking out of a police precinct. A scrolling banner underneath reads, “Titans captain arrested for drunk and disorderly. Bailed out by teammate.”
My gaze snaps to Gage, who still stands near the door. “What the hell?”
He shrugs. “Guess Coen called more than just me to come bail him out. Apparently, Stone is faster. But since it hit the news, seems the whole team is aware.”
I appreciate Gage not letting on that we’d both planned to go bail out Coen, as Keller would probably take that as a betrayal, even though I was going to tell him as soon as we got back.
“The whole fucking world knows about it!” Keller yells. “What was that asshole thinking?”
“There’s been a lot of pressure on—” I start.
Keller whirls on me, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t you dare defend those actions.”
“I wasn’t,” I snap. “If you’d give me a minute, I was going to suggest—that’s the best way to spin it to the press. Obviously, there has to be consequences for his behavior.”
That seems to settle Keller, but then I add, “However, I think a measured, calm approach with Coen is called for. Going in hot and angry will be counterproductive.”
“Don’t tell me how to handle my players,” Keller snarls, and then stomps past both me and Gage to exit. “I’m going to call Callum.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw.
“He’s getting ready to throw that match on gasoline,” Gage mutters.
“I’m glad he’s calling Callum,” I muse, switching off the TV. “He won’t let things get out of hand.”
“If it does, it could blow this whole team apart.” Gage moves toward the door. “I’m going to talk to the other players, try to level some perspective on this until we find out exactly what happened. I don’t want those guys guessing and making assumptions.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I shower.”
Gage leaves, closing the door behind him.
I pace back and forth a bit, trying to determine what exactly I should do. Should I go talk to Keller to calm him down or leave it up to Callum? Maybe I should call Brienne?
Maybe I should stay out of it. I’m a goalie coach, after all. However, that doesn’t seem like the right answer.
I should call Sophie and get her take, but the shower is running, and I said I’d come down and talk to the players with Gage. With a sigh, I move toward the bathroom.