Manny flashed a small smile. “That’s her name and picture under the headline, isn’t it?”
When he let his eyes drift below the title he saw that it was. A small, unwanted thrill shot through him at seeing her picture. “Can I borrow this?”
Manny nodded, his smile growing. “Sure thing. I don’t need it back.”
As he walked, Gabe looked at the front cover to see the words All Access Sports written on the cover with “June Edition” in smaller letters underneath. The magazine had clearly just come out. Gabe hurried to his office and locked the door behind him. He dropped into his chair and hunched forward over his desk as he opened back to the page his index finger had been holding, and began to read.
The Right to Be
By: Rachel Adler
I’ve spent ten years investigating the harsh reality that is the modern sports’ world. Ten years of interviewing athletes who’ve endured countless injuries, been exposed to devastating criticism, and been lambasted for not living up to expectations—both personally and professionally.
I have given the public what I felt they were owed: an inside look into every facet of the men and women who have risen to near superhero status. There was never a story that was too inappropriate, too sensational, too private. It was never a matter of hovering as close to some mythical ethical line I was forbidden, as a journalist, to cross because there is no line. In the collective mind of society, athletes are public figures and therefore forced into a limelight that never dims.
But is this right? Is it fair?
Does it matter?
To players like Gabriel Torres it does. Torres, a former shortstop for the Philadelphia Premieres, retired last fall after the demands of the game became too much for his body to endure. He was a fan favorite, someone who was often called upon to do special meet and greets with fans after games and to attend special events being held in the community.
But when he retired, he expected to get his life back. And not from whom you may think.
“To be honest, the fans don’t recognize me much,” Torres said. “I don’t think they expect to see a former professional athlete out and about. The real concern is the media. They’re everywhere, always looking for their next big story.”
And often, that big story comes at the cost of the players’ well-being.
Cole Barnes, a former NFL left tackle whose struggles with addiction have been well-documented since his retirement in 2014, also feels that he's thrust into the spotlight unjustly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m responsible for my own choices. But seeing every mistake I made splashed across the front page didn’t help matters. I wasn’t even playing anymore. I didn’t get why it was even relevant to anyone.”
Barnes brings up a valid point. Are the lives of former athletes relevant? Does signing a professional contract automatically grant the media access to every aspect of their lives forever?
Up until a few months ago, I thought it did. Many of us in the media are of the mindset that the public has a right to know everything. So we put it all out there for them to decide what they want to read and what they don’t. After all, these athletes signed up for this. Everyone knows that being a professional athlete entails having your life splayed across every news outlet whenever you get a speeding ticket or are associated with a disturbance that may or may not actually involve them.
Don’t they?
“I signed my contract when I was twenty-two years old. I barely even read it,” Torres said of his first contract with the Minneapolis Ravens. “All I knew was that it would get me in the Majors. I didn’t care about anything else.”
So many of these players are so overcome with emotion of being selected as one of the elite few chosen to enter the world of professional sports, they jump at the chance without thinking about all they will have to sacrifice.
Barnes told us, “My ex-wife told me not to come to my daughter’s birthday party because all I ever did was bring a media circus with me wherever I went. Imagine that. Not being able to go to your kid’s birthday because the paparazzi treats you like a sideshow act.”
And I can actually imagine it, because I was—am—one of those reporters. Someone who would readily fight for my own right to privacy, but was quick to trample others when doing so would get me the scoop.
For ten years, I have been part of the problem. Most of us have been, not only members of the media, but of the public as well. The question is, how do we fix it?
Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for that. I’m hoping that bringing awareness to the issue will at least be a start, but I know better than to think it has absolved me of any of my previous misdeeds.
There are certain things that do not deserve to be forgiven. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t repent.
Gabe finished reading and sank back into his chair. It definitely wasn’t the article he’d been expecting, and he felt a wave of relief for it. She had enough information on him to bury the entire place. The fact that she hadn’t done that made him feel like maybe not everything she’d said had been a lie. And damn, was that possibility appealing. It made him feel lighter in some way.
He pulled his phone out and looked at his text messages. Scrolling down, he eventually came to Rachel’s name. He typed out Thank you, and slid his thumb over to send it, but he hesitated.
This would be opening a door, a line of communication that Gabe wasn’t sure he wanted open. Because sure, this article was great. It demonstrated her taking accountability for her actions and apologizing for them.
But it didn’t change anything.
What they’d had—or what he thought they had—was gone. Or probably more precisely, it had never existed in the first place. It was best to let the past remain there.
Gabe clicked out of his text messages and stood up, sliding his phone in his pocket. He had a job to do, a future to work toward. And it was outside of his office door—not on the other end of a phone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rachel stepped out into the oppressive heat of a city she didn’t think she’d ever find herself in again. At least not this soon. But duty called, so here she was.
The month since her article had come out had been… interesting. Initially, the higher ups at All Access Sports hadn’t been too happy with her—and they’d been even less happy with Rick for allowing the article to go to print. But as Rick and Rachel’s bosses were debating whether to fire them or put them in the fact-checking department to toil away for the rest of their lives, something Rachel never foresaw happened.
Athletes from all over the country began calling. They had stories to tell and trusted that All Access would give them that opportunity without putting the media’s spin on them. Some people even specifically requested Rachel. The magazine went from being on the brink of firing her to flying her all over the country to speak to athletes in a variety of sports and stages in their careers.
So here she was, back in Philadelphia, walking out of a small office building where she’d met with a local basketball player and his agent. His story, an airing out of the rumors surrounding his being paid by boosters in college, was an intriguing one, and she was excited to begin writing it. She looked around the neighborhood and realized she was actually quite close to Gabe’s condo. It would be a long walk, but it could be walked.
Not that she was thinking of walking there. What purpose would that serve? She hadn’t heard from him since their fight three months ago. Rachel wasn’t even sure if he’d seen her article. The thought had crossed her mind to call and ask him, but she’d never gotten up the courage to dial his number.
But that didn’t mean that she’d given up her feelings for him. She missed him every day. Memories of their time together would pop up randomly throughout the day, and she wished that those memories weren’t tinged with the overwhelming guilt that always accompanied thoughts of Gabe. The idea that she’d always feel that way—that she’d never be able to fully appreciate what they’d shared because regre
t would always color their relationship—made a pit grow in her stomach.
Maybe that’s what made her begin to walk in the direction of his place. She had no intention of going in or calling him, but she needed to be in his vicinity. Perhaps it would give her some clarity. Perhaps it would make her feel even worse. It was a toss-up. Whatever the reason she was turning into a stalker, she knew there was no stopping it. Once the seed had been planted, she couldn’t resist.
She’d shored up her nerve as she walked, but it began to slip when she reached his block. She lowered her head and pulled her bag up higher on her shoulder as if she ridiculously thought she could disappear behind the strap. It was dusk, the sun descending behind the tall buildings that made up the city’s skyline. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to tell it was her if he happened to catch a glimpse of her out one of his windows.
Part of her wanted to turn around, but she forced herself onward. This felt like something she needed to do, no matter how silly it may be. She expected to dart past his building, maybe take a glance at a place she’d never get to be again, murmur some form of a goodbye, and drift back into the throng of the city feeling like she could move past all of this.
But this was Rachel’s life, so she probably shouldn’t have had any such expectations.
She ducked her head as she approached the building, causing her to not see the solid chest of a man she smacked into as she all but sprinted past. Hands gripped her biceps, keeping her from bouncing off the guy like a rubber ball. She opened her mouth to mutter a quick, “Sorry,” when the owner of the chest spoke.
“Rachel?”
Her head flew up as her eyes grew comically wide. “Oh shit,” she blurted out before she could filter her words.
That earned her a smirk. “It’s Jace, actually.” But the smile quickly disappeared. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone serious, though not unkind.
Rachel stammered for a second before saying, “I honestly don’t know.”
Jace seemed to mull something over for a bit before he spoke again. “You gonna talk to him?”
Sighing, Rachel willed her body to relax. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Really? I figured you would have some things to say.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure he wants to hear them.”
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Jace held it up. “There’s only one way to find out.”
She knew he’d tell Gabe she’d been there, but he was giving her the choice to stick around for that call or to hightail it out of there. But maybe running into Jace was some kind of warped kismet. Maybe she owed Gabe—and herself—a conversation. Whether either of them wanted to have it or not. After thinking it over, she nodded, and Jace scrolled through his phone and made the call.
“Hey… Yeah, I know I just left… No, I didn’t forget anything… No, I don’t miss you already… Yes… Jesus Christ, will you shut up for a second!” Jace looked exasperated, but there was a fondness that was clear on his face. “I have someone down here who wants to talk to you… No, it’s not a fan… Look, just come down, okay? I’m taking off.”
Rachel shifted nervously. She wasn’t prepared for this, but it appeared to be happening regardless.
Jace hung up the phone and looked at her. “Just… do right by him, okay? He didn’t deserve any of that shit.”
Rachel nodded. “I know. I’ll do my best.”
He stared at her for a moment longer before nodding. “Take care, Rachel.”
“You too.”
He was already across the street climbing into his truck by the time Gabe came bounding out of his building. When his eyes rested on her, he stopped dead in his tracks before seeming to shore himself and approach her. Once he was in front of her, he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked slowly on his heels. “Hey,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting to see you down here.”
She smiled timidly. “I wasn’t really expecting to be seen. But I’m glad I was. There are some things you deserve to hear.” Despite believing what she said, Rachel had no idea where to begin. She hesitated, and silence stretched between them.
“I read your article,” he said.
“Yeah? Good. I was hoping you had. Not that I wrote it just so you would… I mean, it wasn’t just because… I needed…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted you to know where my head was at. What I learned. And I also didn’t want you to be constantly worrying about an article about the club coming out.”
“I appreciate that.”
Tears burned her eyes. “I know I’ve already said this, but I’m so sorry, Gabe. I know it doesn’t mean much to you now, but it’s the only thing I have to offer.”
“I accept your apology.”
“Really?” He’d said it so easily, like his forgiving her was a foregone conclusion. It gave her a spark of hope she had no right to feel.
“I don’t like holding on to hard feelings. It makes it impossible to move on, ya know?”
His words made her hope ignite like a moth in a flame, but she tried to hide it. “Thank you.”
“Okay, well, I have some stuff to take care of. It was good seeing you, Rach. Take care of yourself.” He turned to go back into his building, but she knew she couldn’t let it happen. This would be her last chance to talk to him. She couldn’t squander it.
“I don’t regret it.”
Gabe stopped short and slowly turned around. “What does that mean?” he said with an edge to his voice.
“I’m glad I came here to write the article. I wish I could change some of the circumstances, to have opened my eyes sooner to what I was losing by continuing, but I’ll never be sorry my editor sent me here. Because, unknowingly, he was sending me to you.”
Gabe sighed and opened his mouth to most likely dismiss her, so she plowed forward. “You were nowhere on my radar at first. The thought crossed my mind that you maybe knew about the club, but my getting close to you had nothing to do with that. Even when I saw the bank statement, I tried to look for other avenues to prove the club existed so the lines between us wouldn’t blur. I hoped finding out you were somehow involved with the club would just be a stepping stone toward finding a bigger fish.”
He scoffed. “I can’t tell you how great it feels to have you call me a stepping stone.”
“I’d rather be honest and have you hate me than lie to you anymore.”
He didn’t respond to that other than to cross his arms over his chest, which she took as an indication to continue. “When it started to become clear that you were the bigger fish, I told myself that my objective had changed. Now, my goal was to prove that you weren’t involved. I pretended like my cause was noble, that I was trying to clear you of some huge scandal. See, you weren’t the only one I was lying to. I did a number on myself too.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asked.
“I’m not trying to make you feel anything. I never was. I wasn’t trying to trick you into caring about me.” Rachel wasn’t sure how to explain what was in her heart. How did one put words to something so visceral? “If I could take anything back, it would be you falling for me. Because I know you loved me. It was in every look you gave me and every moment we spent together. But I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you. And those aren’t just words. It’s something I know. I know it, and I wish it weren’t true because I don’t think I’ll ever love somebody like I love you. And I lost it because I wasn’t worthy of it. I’m still not. But that’s my burden to carry. I’m sorry that I also made it yours.”
Gabe stood there for what felt like a long time before he spoke. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. You don’t owe me any words. I’m the one with the debt to pay.”
Pushing a hand through his hair, Gabe looked lost. She’d wanted to make things better for him, but it seemed like she’d only made it worse. He dropped his hand to his side. “I wasn’t always honest with you either. Some of the volunteer stuff I said I was doin
g, I made a lot of that shit up. I mean, I have gone to the hospital with Jace to visit kids, but that’s not a regular thing for me. And I don’t even like dogs, let alone invite them into my house. And now I live with two fucking cats that terrorize me.”
A chuckle escaped Rachel. “I’m pretty sure on the scale of mistruths, you rank pretty low.”
Gabe returned her laugh, but sobered quickly. “I don’t really though, do I? Because while your lie totally sucked my heart right out of me, the fact is, if we’d stayed together, I’d have lied to you for the rest of our lives. I don’t think I would’ve ever told you about the club, and maybe… hell, I don’t know.” Gabe pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe we were always going to break up, ya know? Either because of your lie or mine. There’s no way to build a strong foundation when you aren’t being honest with the other person.”
His words weren’t a revelation to her. She’d thought the same thing on a few occasions. She was definitely the more duplicitous, but neither of them had been in a position to give their relationship staying power. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” She looked down at the sidewalk before continuing. “Thanks for hearing me out.”
Gabe nodded. “I think we both needed it.” They looked at one another for a second before Gabe spoke.“You need me to call you a cab or anything?” he offered because he was Gabe and sweet all the way through.
“No, that’s okay. I’m actually staying at the Hyatt not far from here.”
“Oh, good. Yeah, that’s only like three blocks that way,” he said as he pointed down the street.
They stood there silently until Gabe stepped forward awkwardly and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She let herself sink into the embrace a little. The moment felt final, and she wanted to enjoy it. “I wish you all the best,” he said into her ear. “I really mean that.”
He pulled back, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. It was a poor replacement for Gabe’s comforting embrace. “Thank you. You too.”
The One Night Stand Page 18