Chapter 15: The Morals Clause

I put the egg down very carefully.

"How many people have seen it?"

Stevie scrolled. "Thirty-one thousand. Thirty-two. It's going up while I look at it."

"Is Lulu in it?"

"No. Just you. And his hoodie. And your face, which, for the record, looks very happy."

I wiped my hands on my apron.

I'd been a grown woman in a hoodie for one morning.

The kitchen door swung open.

The general manager came in holding an envelope. He looked like a man carrying his own resignation.

Behind him, in a white coat with a white fur collar, came Kinsley.

Her phone was up.

"Leighton," the general manager said. "I'm sorry. I've been asked to give you this."

The players were coming in for breakfast. The captain stopped in the doorway with his hair still wet.

The cooks stopped stirring.

I opened the envelope.

Suspended without pay, effective immediately, pending review. Conduct with a rostered player in violation of staff policy.

At the bottom, my father's signature, in his heavy blue ink.

"What policy?" I said.

"It's new," said the general manager, to the floor.

"How new?"

Kinsley smiled into her phone. "As of seven this morning."

The captain came all the way into the kitchen.

"Where's she going?"

"Home," Kinsley said. "Your new nutritionist starts at nine. He's very excited. He has a whole program."

"Frozen?" said the rookie from behind the captain.

"Efficient," said Kinsley.

I took my apron off.

I hung it on its hook, next to Lulu's tiny one.

Then I picked up the egg I'd put down, cracked it into the bowl one-handed, and handed the whisk to my senior cook.

"Two hundred," I told her. "Low and slow. Don't let anybody rush them."

"Yes, chef."

I walked past Kinsley's phone without looking at it.

At nine the new nutritionist arrived with a rolling cooler and a laminated chart.

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