Sniping Her Mafia King

Deidre lay on her back on one of the two queen sized beds staring at the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm ditching school."

"I can't believe you haven't ever ditched before," Arwen shook her head at her as she twisted her hair up in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

"Is there really an investigation into the professor?"

They hadn't had much time to chat between quickly getting Deidre packed and to the airport and on the plane the young girl had been lost in her thoughts.

"Yup. The minute you told me about seeing the girl on her knees, my mind immediately began considering how many other girls he's coerced into s****l acts for marks. It's assault and harassment." "Even if the student agrees?" Deidre asked.

"If a man puts a gun to your head and threatens to blow your brains out if you don't suck their d**k, and you very willingly open your mouth to avoid dying, is it consensual?" "No," Deidre made a face.

"If a man threatens to fail you in a class which could result in you not gaining your diploma, losing out on your career, and having your entire academic record screwed unless you blow them, it's no different than a gun. It is still coercion. He's taking his power and authority over young women and manipulating them and forcing them to do things they don't want to do." Arwen shook her head, "I won't tolerate that s**t, especially around my family. I asked Jesse to get the info to her friends in the law field and she was angrier than I was."

Deidre sighed, "everyone is going to think I told."

"No. I made it clear to Raven. I was approached because you were in his class. Did you not listen?"

She sat up then, "right. I'm not tied to it."

"No," Arwen chuckled. "Not even a little bit. If anyone says anything to you, you can say you found out at the same time as Raven about the investigation. Also, very cool you told her off."

"I practiced the speech for weeks in the mirror," Deidre admitted quietly. "It felt good to say it out loud and at her."

"Good," she smiled over her shoulder as she adjusted her bag. "Alright, I'm off. I just have to go for a preliminary meeting with Mr. Hockey Player and his team and then I'll be back. Could be a couple of hours." She looked to Deidre, "you're welcome to come with. You can act as my admin assistant."

"The last thing I want is Mathis Lafarge, the crown prince of hockey, looking at my face. Its bad enough archaeology boy can't make eye contact." She made a face, "are you sure he's not just lazy and it's why his physio isn't working?"

"You know, lately you have a terrible way of thinking people who look good or who have money are spoiled, lazy or cruel and mean. Stop judging everyone on the same wavelength as Raven."

Deidre sat up, "you're right. I'm doing it again. I'm coming. It's better than sitting here wallowing about my situation. At least I can take notes for you and open your water bottle." She grinned as Arwen laughed at her. "Should I change?" "Nah, it's informal. Jeans and t-shirt are fine."

"You're wearing dress pants and a blouse."

"They're going to pay me a lot of money to fix their golden child."

"He's a millionaire at twenty-two." Deidre shook her head.

"I'll never understand why they pay sports personalities so much, but I don't care either. I just need them to pay my bills."

Thirty minutes later they were arriving to the team's offices and Arwen and Deidre pulled the large glass doors open. Arwen went to the counter. "I'm here to see Coach Wilton. Arwen Beddoe."

The receptionist looked to Deidre, "and you are?"

"Deidre Beddoe, her admin assistant." She brazenly tucked her hair behind her ear putting her scarred face on display and not breaking eye contact.

Arwen grinned as Deidre spoke with confidence. Her little girl was still riding the high of telling off Raven. Maybe it was the catalyst she needed to find her voice. The receptionist slid two visitor nametags over the counter and told them to wait by the end of the counter and someone would come collect them. "You're feeling sassy," Arwen commented as she clipped her nametag to her blouse.

"Portia texted me when we were in the car. Told me to tell anyone who gives me grief to go f**k themselves." Deidre giggled, "for a girl as pretty and classy as she looks, she swears a lot."

"She does. She's spent the last several years living in a house with a bunch of security guards. I'd curse a lot too."

"Ms. Beddoe," a voice called out as footsteps came in their direction. "Marvin Wilton, head coach. Thanks for making the trip."

"My pleasure, coach. This is my cousin and admin assistant Deidre Beddoe."

"It's a pleasure," Marvin didn't even blink at Deidre's scar and pulled her hand tightly between his. He turned back to Arwen, "Welcome to our facility. I hope to God, you can help him get over this damn hump because he's cranky as f**k."

Arwen could tell Deidre was surprised by the man's nonreaction to her face, but he was already walking at a brisk pace and Deidre was not as quick as he was. Arwen purposefully slowed her steps and when he reached an elevator and he turned to wait for them he noted Deidre's gait. Arwen took notice while he appeared to acknowledge her slower step, he again didn't seem to be too concerned or curious about it.

They stepped into the elevator and made their way to the top floor. Marvin motioned for them to step out ahead of him. "We're meeting in the board room, Arwen. I know you've already gone over the charts. I want you to discuss what you think the best plan for him is. I will tell you he's not receptive to switching his treatment provider. I think his current provider panders to him but he's not making gains she promised. I think she's looking for a love connection and it's never going to happen but the longer she keeps him attending her clinic, the longer she thinks it's going to happen." He paused outside the door, "or it's my theory. I hate to think she's unprofessional, but eight weeks post-op and he hasn't hit a fifty percent improvement. He has been working out every day since he was a kid. There's no way I want to put all the blame at her feet but it's not like him to not follow instruction to the letter when it comes to his health."

"Like I said Marvin, I saw the program. I would have run a similar program for the first two weeks pending reassessment by the surgeon. We would then have been amping up weekly with specialist input. I won't degrade a fellow physio, but I will say my approach and hers are different."

They got set up in the boardroom, Arwen pulling her laptop out and signing in. Deidre began looking through the current physio's notes and made a face. "What?" Arwen asked her as she looked them over.

"You put me through more than this and mine is a maintenance program," Deidre grimaced. "It's a young man's ankle fracture not an old lady's hip replacement." Arwen chuckled at her cousin's words.

As Arwen and Deidre got the copies of the plans in place to present to the treatment team, they slowly trickled in one by one. The last one to enter was the patient himself, preceded by his manager. The manager glowered at her as if she were invading his personal space. Mathis limped directly to her. She heard Deidre's huff of air and how she slunk in her seat and her hair fell to frame her face. Her cousin was having a serious physical reaction to the beefy attractive young man and Arwen almost laughed at it and she nudged her under the table as she stood up to shake the young man's hand, feeling Deidre begrudgingly rising.

"Mathis, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Doctor Arwen Beddoe. This is my cousin s***h admin assistant for the next couple of days, Deidre Beddoe."

He shook Arwen's hand firmly as he pushed his cane against the table. He reached out to Deidre who rose to meet him and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you both. You think you can fix me faster than the physio my manager found me?"

"Depends. How hard do you want to work?" Arwen didn't pull punches. "I have a guy right now coming to my clinic five days a week, six hours a day and then he goes home and puts in three more hours. It's a hardening program but it's getting results. On the flip of it, I have a guy who is barely making any gains because he won't put the work in and thinks I should wave my magic wand and give him new muscles. Are you going to work or are you looking for a miracle?" Arwen heard the irritated hiss of the young man's manager and saw the determined look in Mathis' eyes when he c****d his head. "I'll work as hard as you want me to. I need to skate. Can you get me on skates?"

"Not until your surgeon clears you." She shook her head, "but I'll get you there faster than doing ten k on a treadmill on a low incline followed by ice and massage. Deidre," she looked over her shoulder, "tell Mathis what you said to me when you looked at his current program."

Deidre glared at her cousin for putting her on display. She inhaled deeply, "my maintenance program is harder than this and my injury is chronic and never going to get completely better. Arwen puts me through more on a day-to-day basis to maintain my current level of function. Your current plan is weak, at best."

Mathis smiled at her suddenly, "is that so?"

"Yeah." Deidre flicked her hair a bit, clearly nervous at being put on the spot, "they told her I'd never be able to use my leg and it would be best to cut it off at the hip. We both proved them wrong."

"You proved them wrong," Arwen corrected. "I gave you the plan. You did the work."

"With you yelling at me when I didn't put in the effort," Deidre grinned at her. She suddenly forgot shyness and looked to Mathis, "she'll kick your a*s. Hope you're ready for it." She turned and sat back down in her chair and pulled her papers to her as she realized what she said.

Arwen noted the blush staining her young charge's cheeks and looked to Mathis. "How about I give you a rough breakdown of my eight-week program."

"Another eight weeks?" He looked immediately irritated.

"Should have called me first," she looked to his team smugly. "Now I'm behind an eight ball with a possible chronic injury because you didn't want to hurt a woman's feelings. If you don't want to engage in the plan, we can go home, and you can find someone else who will lie to you and give you a four-week program. Just don't be surprised when at four weeks they extend it by at least another four."

"Show me the plan," the man moved to sit beside Deidre, and she stiffened as he brushed against her arm.

Arwen kept her face neutral as she considered the young man had purposefully chosen the seat near Deidre. Deidre passed her the folders with the plans in them, and Arwen handed them to the five men at the table.

"You can look at mine, Deidre," Mathis slid his folder closer.

"I have the laptop version to make notes and corrections," she whispered flushing as his arm touched hers.

"Yeah, but sometimes a hard copy is better," he pulled her chair closer to his.

Arwen shook her head as the man seemed oblivious to the fact four men and another woman were in the room watching him set up the woman next to him. Adjusting papers between them and making sure she could still reach the laptop to do the corrections she mentioned. She bit her lip trying to stop the laughter as he finally looked up, uncaring he was delaying everything with his flirty tactics.

"Let's go," he said with a wave before dropping his arm over the back of Deidre's chair.

"Little punk," Arwen thought with a grin to herself as she began to go through the plan.

More than once he'd interrupted with questions, but Arwen realized they were good, solid questions unlike the obnoxious ones his manager threw out. Clearly his manager thought he knew everything about everything but not Mathis. He had done his homework about his injury, knew what he was going to need to do. He was a hockey player, but he wasn't a dumb jock. He was smart, intuitive, and passionate about his sport and his health.

When she got to the part of diet, where many of her players balked because they were off-season, he was all in.

"This plan sounds like you're trying to change his whole life," the manager spoke up suddenly. "You need to fix his ankle. I'm half expecting you at this point to bring in a Shaman and change his religion."

Arwen noted everyone at the table were getting frustrated with the man and Arwen took offense at his bigoted phrasing. "Mr. Dryden, if you have a problem specific to any of the requirements of the plan, can you be specific please?"

"I'm saying you're keeping him off the ice. You're changing his diet. You're telling him what to use for pain control. You're going to put him through a rigorous program which is going to make him, per your own words, desperate for bed by eight pm most nights and the minute he stops being tired, you're going to amp up his program. His other physio said his muscles just needed time to heal. Whose to say you're not just desperate for a high-profile client to boost your business."

She shrugged, "do you know the names of any of my clients, Mr. Dryden?"

"No, which is why I don't know what rock you crawled out of."

She turned and looked at Mathis, "if you wanted to get traded, would you want your injury paraded all over Sports Center?"

"No, we've kept it quiet for a reason but he's not going anywhere," the coach spoke up quickly.

"I'm just saying, my clients value their privacy. Most of my clients want an NDA. I don't need to use his name to boost my clientele when my clients come to me willingly and refer everyone, they can to me for services." She looked to Mathis, "I do have one client who I spoke to on the phone today who agreed to have a conversation, but his injury hasn't been reported to anyone outside his team. I didn't tell him who I was meeting today and for all he knows I'm in the middle of the ocean. My business is word of mouth. You would have to promise not to speak of what he reveals but he'll be brutally honest."

"Yes, please," Mathis held his hand up against his manager's protests. "My lips will be sealed but I'd love to talk to someone else who has gone through one of your programs."

"Deidre," she waved to the girl. "Can you send a quick message to Norah with Mathis' personal cell number?"

"Who is Norah?"

Again, the manager with the questions, Arwen was going to shoot him in the face. "My receptionist, my right hand, the woman who single-handedly arranges all of my life without blinking."

"Can we trust her?"

"As much as you can trust me."

"Well, I don't."

Arwen had enough. "Mr. Dryden, whatever your biases and prejudices are, you need to know I'm not here for you. I don't give a s**t if you like me or hate me. I care your client, who I hope will be my client, will be fit for training camp in eight weeks with nary a limp visible. Your opinion of me matters naught. Unless you have questions directly relevant to the treatment or process then don't question me or my team again. If you continue to throw up barriers to your client's recovery I will leave. Your attempt to impede my ability to help the guy, who is your bread and butter, get back on the ice, is fruitless. Sit there, shut your cakehole, and let me do my job. Otherwise, I leave, and you can go back to whatever other physiotherapist you can find who will put up with your bullshit." You could have heard a pin drop in the silence following Arwen's calmly delivered, seriously toned words. Then the man erupted. "Who do you think you are coming in here and talking to me like that?" He punched the table and screamed at her, "you stupid f*****g bitch."

"Deidre, pack it up." She looked to Mathis. "Get your manager under control. I don't work for him. I work for you."

The team manager was pulling Mathis' personal manager out of the room as Deidre meticulously closed up her laptop, unable to look up from the table. Arwen was calm, collected and not once had she raised her voice. She was in complete control and her power in the room had clearly offended the misogynistic man who had just been escorted away.

Arwen asked for all the folders back and the men were surprised. "Gentleman, you don't think I'm going to leave my program for you free of charge. Don't be silly. If and when you sign the contract, you will get a formal email with the full program, details down to the letter. Until a contract is signed however, we're done here." She neatly placed all her documents into the bag. She looked to the coach, "can you escort us back to the lobby please? I believe we are finished here for the day."

In the elevator the coach turned to her. "Arwen, I apologize for Dryden. He's an a*s. He's the one who hired the current physio through a family friend. I'm sure once Mathis considers everything, you'll get a call."

"I'm only in town tonight and tomorrow. We fly back out to New York Wednesday. If he wants me to go through his program in person, he needs to make a decision tonight. Otherwise, I'm going sightseeing with my cousin." "I'll make sure he knows." Marvin gave a wave as they exited the elevator.

Arwen and Deidre made their way out and Arwen pulled a ride share app out.

Deidre exhaled loudly as they leaned against the building's brick façade. "Holy s**t that was intense. Does it happen all the time?"

"More than you'd care to know. Men don't like it when women are running the show, especially in such a male-dominated sport like this one or football. In Mathis Lafarge's case, his manager likes to be the one telling him what to do, where to go, how to dress and how to make him more money. When someone tries to usurp his power, especially a woman, he turns into a caveman version of himself."

The sound of cars passing them on the street were background noise to Deidre's stress. "I don't know how you stayed calm. My heart was pounding, and my palms were sweaty. It was worse than Raven today. He was crazily antagonistic. He hated you before he even sat down. You could feel it off him."

"He's not the first. He won't be the last."

"How do you do it?" Deidre asked. "Stay calm. My nerves have me shaking even still and it was you he was angry at."

"Truth? Dad."

"Really Uncle Connor?"

"He always told me to remember whenever a guy was being a giant d**k, I could shoot their p***s off from another city with my scope. He has no power over me. I hold all the power."

Deidre erupted into a fit of giggles at her words.

The sound of Deidre's name being called made them both look up to see Mathis Lafarge hobbling in their direction, leaning heavily on his cane. "I'm glad I caught you."

Arwen watched on as the man stepped closer to her.

"You have my cell number in your file, but I didn't get yours."

"You have Arwen's," Deidre looked nervously at her cousin who looked away as if minding her business.

"If I call Arwen, it will be for physio. I don't want to talk about physio with you. Can I call you?"

Deidre was now beet red at the man's bold words and she passed him her phone when he asked for it. He plugged his phone number in and then using her phone sent himself a text. He stood up straight and smiled down at her with intent and then whispered just loud enough for the three of them to hear, "those eyes," before he turned and walked away.

Deidre looked at her cousin incredulously, "what just happened?"

"Mathis Lafarge, the crown prince of hockey, wants to f**k you," Arwen whispered naughtily in her cousin's ear. "Make sure he uses protection."

She roared with laughter as Deidre stumbled and then slapped furiously at her cousin before turning her gaze back to the retreating man ducking into a limo at the end of the sidewalk. He lifted one hand to wave and as Deidre let out a confused grunt, Arwen took to laughing again. The day was ending wonderfully.