Under the Bleachers: A Novel

by K. K. Allen

  His expression softens. “I think that’s a beautiful way to look at the crossroads in life. It must be cleansing to give yourself a chance to assess the value of your decisions. We’re too close to our own demons sometimes, aren’t we?”

  His words lift my cheeks. Of course he understands. Looking down at the picture, it’s hard not to remember the hustle and bustle of backstage life as everyone flocked around in utter chaos right before a runway event. That’s where I had the most fun before my sister’s shows. I never strutted at a runway event. My gigs were mostly for stock photos and local advertisements. Nothing big. Nothing that reached outside Rockwall.

  After two years of suffocating in my dying dream of modeling, I chose to replace the negative thoughts with bigger smiles, louder laughs, and a resilient attitude. By the time I moved to Washington, the exuberance that was once an act had become part of me. And I was free to do with it whatever I wished.

  It’s been a trial-and-error process, for sure. I’m making mistakes all the time, but I'm also righting wrongs, turning burdens into blessings. I’m figuring it out. For the first time, I feel like wherever I end up will be where I belong. Even better, I’ll have no regrets.

  When I set the picture back on my desk and look up, Zach’s staring at me with a question in his eyes. “You’re gonna let me in at some point, Cakes.”

  I shrug and take a gulp of my water, hoping he can’t tell he just tripled the cadence of my heart. I don't fault him for being curious. The pictures invite unwanted questions, but I can’t remove them. They remind me how far I’ve come. How much stronger and independent I am without the silent disapproval of my mother weighing on me.

  “Are you three close?”

  He couldn’t have just dropped it.

  “We used to be. Not so much anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Something about Zach makes me want to pour my heart out to him, tell him stories I’ve never shared with another soul.

  “It’s okay. We just drifted apart,” I tell him. I want him to understand me, I really do. It's just, sometimes I have a hard enough time understanding myself. “My sister and I text on occasion, usually when she’s got some big news or when she’s annoyed at Mom for being Mom.” I laugh, realizing how much I miss our shared eye rolls over the ludicrous things Mom would say and do. “Neither of them agrees with why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here? Bellevue is a long way from your family.”

  “I told you,” I say, retreating into my shell. “Unfinished business.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, but he seems to get the hint. He searches my desk further, probably for more conversation points. I’ve got nothing else. He looks to the bare walls.

  “I just moved in here.”

  “Ah.” He nods. “That explains it.” Then his eyes set on mine. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Looking back at him, I can feel everything about my demeanor soften. “Nothing’s changed, Zach.”

  “And you’re happy?”

  “Yes, I’m happy.” There’s no need to think about this one. I’m a happy person in general. Sure, I have some issues when it comes to men, but that doesn’t mean my life is ruined over it. I’ve learned how to cope with my feelings, with my insecurities, and my needs are fulfilled. Well … if we’re talking about needs, it’s been quite some time since they’ve been fulfilled, but that’s beside the point.

  For a few seconds he just watches me, studying me as if my silence might help him understand me. “You didn’t come.”

  “Huh?”

  “The games. The tickets I sent you. I didn’t see you once.”

  Oh. I swallow. “You looked for me?”

  “Every game.”

  “That was a sweet gesture. I should have thanked you, but—”

  “You could have said something. Or shown up. That would have been thanks enough.”

  I want to sigh or roll my eyes and tell him he’s ridiculous for expecting me to actually use those tickets after we’d already said our goodbyes, but I can’t. The gesture was a thoughtful one, and at the time, it made my heart beat a little faster. But taking them would have given him false hope, and that would have been a problem for both of us.

  “I had too many conflicts. I gave them to Children’s Hospital and told them they were a gift from you. They were distributed to patients and their families.”

  His eyes crinkle in the corners. “That’s not fair. I can’t really be mad about that.”

  Our conversation has grown uncomfortable, and our surroundings are far too quiet. The silence between us makes it worse. I take a step to leave the room and can hear him following me. I’m not sure what to do now that lunch is over. No one gave me instructions. So I wing it.

  I give Zach a tour of the full production suite, not worrying if he’s already seen it all. When we’re done, we land in the small production meeting room. I grab a notebook from the cabinet before probing Zach with questions about his event. At least this way I can update Richland when he’s back in the office.

  It sounds like whatever we end up doing for Zach will last until the end of April, maybe later depending on how long the PSAs take to edit. That’s two months of working closely with the man. I can do this. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with someone I had the hots for.

  Lucky for me, I’m resilient when it comes to relationships. I don’t suffer from fear or rejection. My heart was broken once a long time ago, and that was enough for me. Besides, I’ve already warned Zach that our attraction will lead us nowhere. Nothing has changed. That’s why it’s a good thing we’ll be too busy working on this campaign in the safe space of the agency to be tempted into anything more.

  At least I’ll keep telling myself that.

  I’ve somehow become the designated note-taker at this planning meeting. Richland and Meredith are tossing ideas back and forth for Zach’s event like it’s a competition, and none of them have anything to do with the project as Zach explained it to me.

  Sandra, Chloe, and Sharlene, one of BelleCurve’s project managers, are all here too, but none of us can get a word in edgewise. To be fair, Meredith and Richland have massively different agendas to fulfill. While Richland wants rich and classy, Meredith wants hot and sweaty. Her goal is to sex everything up. I’m sure there’s a reason Zach hires her as his publicist, but I hope this isn’t it. She’s completely off the mark.

  Everyone in the room is familiar with Zach’s bullying story. Chloe is closest to it, since she helped Zach organize his message last summer. I can see her gritting her teeth, dying to jump in and break up the bickering so that Meredith and Richland don’t continue going down the wrong path, but I know she won’t.

  There’s a second of silence while the two take their first real breaths. Words roll off my tongue before I can stop them. “Zach is looking for engagement opportunities with the kids. The calendar shoot idea for sponsor incentives and raising money for the campaign are great, but the focus should be on the camp and what they’re doing to enrich these kids’ lives.”

  All eyes are on me now, and I’m shocked I haven’t been interrupted yet. “The message is about leadership, teamwork, and community. We should encourage kids to talk openly about the real issues they face at school. And of course, we should be documenting the kids’ practices and activities. We get the media talking about what Zach’s doing. We post about it all over social media.

  “We create a sports calendar, sure, sell it to help raise money for Zach’s organization, but that’s not the message we need to be concentrating on right now. How do we get the message out there? The camp will be the hub of all the excitement, and that’s what we need to capture.”

  I’m full of energy, looking around the room and waiting for someone to jump in and play off my ideas. Meredith’s mouth hangs open, and I’ll admit, that pleases me quite a bit. Chloe’s smiling but not speaking, and her eyes are focused on something behind me.


  “Everything she just said.” The voice in the back of the room startles me. We all look at Zach, who’s gliding from the closing door to the seat beside me, a charming smile plastered perfectly on his face. He swivels a chair around and sits in it backwards while looking around the room. “Hey guys. Hope you don’t mind. I’m a little early, and my ears were burning.”

  Sandra chuckles. “Not at all. It’s better to do this with you here. Anyway, it sounds like Monica’s on a roll. Which is a good thing, because Richland and I discussed it, and with Sharlene deeply involved in several other campaigns right now, we were thinking Monica could take on a lot of the coordination.” Sandra looks at Sharlene and then me. “What do you ladies think?”

  Sharlene nods without hesitation. I know she’s slammed. But me? I’ve been roped into coordinating various tasks within events, but never an entire event.

  I nod, because I’m not about to tell Sandra no in front of all these people, especially Zach. Not after the opportunities she’s placed in my lap. I’ll deal with whatever reservations I have later.

  “Are you sure, Sandra?” Meredith jumps in, looking more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen her. “She’s new to the production department, and she’s only a PA.”

  Only a PA, Chloe mouths to me, and we both silently laugh.

  “Zach needs someone more experienced on this campaign. Let’s be smart here.”

  Meredith doesn’t get to me the way she would most girls. Sure, the photo I saw of her and Zach makes me uneasy, and she obviously has something against me, but the fact that she’s trying so hard to push me out is telling.

  She’s right; I’m no project manager. I’m a former office manager-turned PA with a love for all things creative. That hardly makes me one to lead such an important project. But the fact that she just said that out loud…

  “Considering the fact that Monica’s the only one who truly gets it at this point, I think it’s best that she takes the lead,” Zach declares, turning to me.

  After the shock in the room subsides, I sit taller and face Sandra. “I agree. And I can’t wait to get started.”

  I purposely don’t meet Meredith’s eyes, but I lick up her wounds with salt on my tongue and a smile on my face as I watch her in my periphery.

  “All right, sounds like we’ve got that figured out.” Richland claps his hands and stands. “Monica, set up some meetings for us this week, and make sure to invite Zach whenever he’s free. I trust you to work with his team on the scheduling.” I jot down some notes on my laptop while he turns to my left. “Zach, do we have a name for the campaign or location for the camp?”

  “Marketing was supposed to be working on the camp branding, and my agent is locking down a camp on Orcas Island as we speak. I can send the information your way if you’d like.”

  Richland nods to me. “Give it to Monica. She’ll do some research on the location. I don’t think we’ll need to scout this one, but if you have any field plans, Zach, that would be helpful. If not, Monica can work with graphics to mock something up. Then we can all discuss.”

  “Definitely,” Zach agrees.

  The team walks out the door, but surprise, Meredith hangs back. “Mind if I have a word, Zach?”

  He seems distracted by his phone before pulling his eyes up to meet hers. “Not now, Mer. I’ll have Trevor set up a meeting with you this week.”

  After another lingering look at Zach and a death glare at me, she walks out, letting the door close behind her.

  If I had any questions about a potential relationship brewing between Zach and Meredith, this interaction answered them with a firm no. Their selfie on the gossip queens’ monitor has hovered over my mind like a looming cloud, raining doubt upon me every time I thought of it. It’s possible they had a thing once and it ended. But I think it’s time to let my jealousy go.

  I’m able to exhale once Zach and I are alone, but he’s not going to let me off that easy. “What’s wrong?” He nudges my side.

  Does he have to call me out on everything? Normally I’d play this off like I’m the best decision anyone could make. Why wouldn’t they choose me? I could play that card now. Ease whatever tension there is and deal with my doubts on my own time. But Zach… He hands me the key to let down my guard with a subtle nudge, allowing my strength to surface over fear. And I trust he’ll allow me to stumble along the way.

  “Nothing,” I finally answer. “It just hit me. The responsibility is not something I’m used to. I’m not a project manager. I’m barely a production assistant. Maybe Meredith was right.”

  He makes a disgusted face. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous of you.”

  “Me?”

  Zach’s eyes drift from my eyes to my lips. My stomach clenches, and I realize how much I’ve longed for him to look at me like that again. His lip curls up and he lifts his chin as if my thoughts are obvious. “Yeah, you.”

  He doesn’t elaborate, and I’m not going to ask him to. Instead, I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve never, not once, led a project. I think you’re letting your lust for me seep into your common sense.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “My lust for you? Arrogant much?”

  I don’t back down. Our faces are inches from each other, but I don’t care. I’m angry. I also like being close to him. Such a bad combination.

  “You don’t need to do much,” he says, his husky timbre softening. “Marketing is slacking on coming up with the theme. We need one, like, yesterday. Maybe since you seem to have a good grip on what this is all about, you can help me come up with something. As soon as we have it locked down we can start branding and planning production. We can go to Orcas Island if that will help.”

  Orcas Island, as in, the campgrounds where the event will be? Orcas Island, as in, the destination that happens to be three hours and one ferry ride away? He’s not fooling me.

  “We?”

  “Yes. Let’s go this weekend.”

  “Absolutely not.” Folding my arms across my chest, I lean back in my chair.

  He mimics my movements, challenge written in his expression. “I bet it would impress Richland if you made the trip. Aren’t you all about going above and beyond?”

  “Yes, but not with you!”

  Why won’t he just drop it? I’m agreeing to work closely with him on this project. I was even honest about my comfort level in taking something like this on. The last thing I need is for the two of us to be alone and trapped in his Jeep for an extended period.

  A chuckle rises from somewhere deep in his throat. “I’m sorry to break this to you, but this is my project. I want to check it out and do the research.”

  “Then go. But I can’t come with you. It’s not … professional. Not after what happened between us.” I stand up and close my notebook, hoping the conversation is over. That’s as straightforward as I can get without divulging the root of the problem.

  Zachary stands too and leans down so his face is near mine. “I get it, Monica.”

  I suck in a breath, feeling the wave of heat that rolls from his body to mine. God, he’s intoxicating just to stand near, but I’m not too gone to realize he’s using my name as a weapon now. Cakes when he’s seducing me. Monica when he’s mad at me.

  “You don’t want me to be into you. Guess what?” He narrows his eyes, and I swallow against his intensity. “I’m not. What happened, or didn’t happen, between us was six months ago. But you’re as excited about this campaign as I am. I heard it in your voice earlier. I need someone like that on my team. So just cut the bullshit already. I’m not going to make a pass at you. I won’t even try to be your friend if that freaks you out. We’ll work together. That’s all.”

  I don’t get a chance to even breathe before he turns away from me and walks back out the door.

  Crap.

  My morning workout is a complete waste. My trainer gave up yelling at me and left over an hour ago, but I’m still here, determined a good ru
n on the treadmill will cleanse my thoughts of the one person I’m not supposed to think about. Unfortunately, Monica’s resistance toward me is only making me more curious about her, and that won’t do.

  When Monica and I met last summer, she was fearlessly flirty. Unapologetic about her boldness. Sassy to a fault. And funny without even trying. When our eyes locked through the conference room glass while she was sneaking off with a piece of leftover chocolate cake from our meeting, I was intrigued. Monica struck me as daring and beautiful with impenetrable confidence—a combination that jumpstarted something inside of me.

  That wasn’t the first time I’d seen her, but it was the first time I saw beyond the flawless exterior and wanted to know more. My next trip to BelleCurve was a few days later. I purposely showed up early so I’d have a chance to talk to her.

  She didn’t disappoint.

  Monica kept me company, talking a mile a minute about nothing in particular and keeping me engaged with every syllable. She was irresistibly bold and passionate about life.

  I liked her. She didn’t expect me to entertain her with stories about my success. She didn’t clam up around me or treat me differently from any other guy. She didn’t try to play a game of disinterest, hoping to garner my attention. She was just—Monica.

  When I saw her at Heroes and Legends, I knew I had to ask this girl out. I didn’t expect her to shut me down or to stop being the Monica I’d come to adore. I don’t know why, but kissing her changed everything.

  After letting her drive away, I wasn’t planning to think about her again. I wasn’t expecting thoughts of her to linger like we had unfinished business. There was clear closure in our last conversation. But a week later, it was a struggle not to call her and pretend like it was just a friendly check-in. Instead, I took the chickenshit approach and sent her the tickets, hoping she’d have a change of heart. Desperate, I know. And when she didn’t show up to that first home game, I finally called her.