Misconduct (FSCU Pitbulls Book 1)

by Stella Marie Alden

  Kira highlighted the most important sections so I can answer the questions at the end of the chapter.

  My phone rings and it’s Jaz. “Ryan, I just heard. You signed with Andy?”

  “Yeah.” News sure travels fast.

  “Perfect. He is absolutely fabulous. I so mean that. You leave everything else to me. I already emailed your itinerary, including sleep time and study time. You are not to party. Do I make myself clear?”

  “What? You my mother, now?”

  He huffs. “And your father and your fairy godmother. If you want to make big money in advertising, you will follow each and every one of my instructions.”

  “Like CJ did?” I recall some of his exploits, including one that almost got him kicked off his team.

  “Oh, my, God. Thank heavens, Melanie came along and straightened him out. She was my idea, by the way. Who knew the best physical therapist in New York City would fall for my bad ass player? Well, got to fly, and so do you.” When he giggles, I shake my head back and forth with a big grin on my face.

  Suddenly, everything is doable. I got my personal shit in order. Now, all I got to do is focus on football.

  Chapter 36

  Kira

  I exit the plane at JFK and take the shuttle into Manhattan. I’m staying at the cheapest hotel I could find and still, it’s two hundred dollars a night. I hope this interview is worth it. After I fall onto the bed, I check my phone.

  By now, Ryan’s in Nashville. By everyone’s account, he should be picked up by the Patriots tomorrow. Even though they have a great quarterback, they need a strong second. What if Tom Brady gets injured?

  My heart pounds at the thought. What if it’s Ryan who gets hurt? He’d have surgery, bills, and no job after a few months of play. Dammit. I need to stop researching on the internet. Ryan could be one of the lucky ones who plays into his forties. That too, makes me uneasy. Can I be a wife, a mother, with no husband half the year?

  Shit. Why can’t I just be happy for him?

  The city below is far too noisy, the air conditioner too loud, and my room is right next to an elevator that dings all night long.

  So much for being bright-eyed for my interview. Outside, I ask the doorman to call me a cab. He whistles, raises his arm, and a yellow vehicle appears at the curb.

  I duck in, give the Middle-Eastern man my address, and take a deep breath.

  Crosstown traffic is almost at a standstill, giving me time to stare. Good thing I left plenty early. I pay the driver, get out, and take a deep breath of pretzels, dog shit, and car fumes. Then, in my best black suit, I make my way into the famous Times Building. The few who wait at the elevator with me have this perfected expression of elitism, a stance of almost boredom, and the ability to stare through each other.

  It’s fucking nuts.

  On the twentieth floor, I turn, wondering where to go until I see The New York Times hanging on a wall behind double glass doors. There, I wait impatiently at a front desk and clear my throat. When a dark-haired woman glances up, her eyebrow-piercing lifts, and she takes me in from head to toe.

  “You’re early.” She looks at me like I’ve committed a mortal sin and starts typing again on her keyboard.

  “Can I sit?” I practice the whole see-through-you thing.

  She shrugs and points at a chair in the corner. “Suit yourself.”

  I do and glance at the time. It’s only fifteen minutes before my appointment, not an hour. What the hell?

  Exactly one-half hour later, a fiftyish man, dressed in a black suit jacket, tshirt, and jeans, comes out of another set of glass doors, He rounds the desk, and holds out his hand. “Ms. McKenzie?”

  I nod and shake his hand.

  “I’m Mr. Ingvardson. Follow me please.”

  Inside, the floor is divided up into cubes with small desks, computer monitors, and people typing under fluorescent lights. I wonder if I’ll soon be one of them. Strange how the thought doesn’t thrill me.

  The man sits, opens his iPad and sighs heavily as he removes his glasses.“So, Kira, you want to be a reporter for The Times. Tell me why you think you qualify.”

  “Well, Mr. Ingvardson, I’m graduating from FSCU with honors and have done two podcasts which have gone viral.”

  “Two, really? That many.” He turns his computer, pulls up one of my links, and frowns. “We do have an internship available this summer.”

  My heart drops. “Paid?”

  “No. I’m afraid not. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a coveted position with over a hundred applicants. I assumed you knew. No one starts in this business without some experience.”

  A complete fool, I smile weakly. “Of course, they don’t.”

  He glances down at my ring. “I understand you just got engaged to Ryan Finnegan?”

  “Yes.” The thought of him gives me strength.

  “They’re saying he’ll end up in Boston. How will that work with you here?” He leans back in his chair, watching my face intently.

  I don’t like the fact he did a bait and switch and I resent the personal question which is frankly, illegal. Still, if I can figure out how to make the finances work, this would be a great first job.

  “I’m sure we can work it out. Boston isn’t so far from New York.”

  “How was he feeling this morning?”

  “Huh?”

  “Ryan? When you guys rolled out of bed this morning? Was he anxious? C’mon now Ms. McKenzie. This is not how I would expect an investigative reporter to respond.”

  He snaps his fingers. “Quick, quick, quick.”

  “He was fine. Not nervous at all.” My fists clench my purse in my lap. This seems too invasive for a job interview.

  “Does he have an agent?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard he fired Jeff Helos. Is it true?”

  I stand, having had enough. “I guess I misunderstood. I thought you were interviewing me for a job, not getting a story.”

  He smiles and motions. “Sit down. I can do both.”

  “No, you can’t.” Fuck this moron. I swallow back my anger and refuse to let him see how hurt I am.

  “Is he a good lay or are you just interested in the thirty-five million he’ll be bringing to the marriage?”

  I play back the last sentence I recorded on my phone. “My lawyer will be contacting you.”

  “Inadmissible in court.” He fumes.

  “True, but we’ll see what your HR department thinks about it. If you’ll excuse me? Y’all have a nice day.”

  Dirtbag.

  I give him the smile I learned on my mother’s knee and turn at the door. “You print anything in this interview and I’ll use enough of his thirty-five mil to make sure you never work in this business again.”

  He may be used to dealing with cowering college students but I am not one of them. In the lobby, still shaking with rage, I call Jaz.

  “Can you get me a flight to Nashville?”

  “Oh sweetie, tell me all about it.”

  I sniff but will not give anyone in the building something to bring back to that horrid man. “I will, I promise. But right now, how soon can you get me there?”

  Two hours later, I can hardly believe I’m flying first class to Nashville and will be there in time for Ryan’s big announcement.

  People like Ingvardson should be fired. It’s not right. As soon as I have internet again, I’m going to send my video to their HR department. I bet they don’t know what a jackass he is.

  Despite my anxiousness, I sleep and when I wake, the plane is descending. From the air, Nashville is tiny, especially after just leaving New York City.

  A limo driver waits in the baggage area holding an iPad with my name on it. He takes my suitcase and we’re on our way but the traffic is ridiculous.

  I sigh, staring out the window. “I’ll be lucky to make it in time for the first round.”

  The dark man studies me in the rearview mirror. “You’re Ryan Finnegan’s girl?”

  �
�Yes.” I glance down at my phone. “There’s only an hour until the drafts.”

  A chuckle comes from the front seat as dark eyes peer back. “Well, I’ll be damned. Wait until I tell my friends. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there, honey.”

  While he makes a call, a police cruiser shows up behind us and whoops the siren. Great. Now he’s going to get a ticket. I’ll never get there on time.

  “Would you mind getting out of the car, miss?” The officer taps on the window closest to me.

  Shit. Seriously? What did I do wrong?

  As he opens the door I glance at his weapon, his big chest, and frowny face.

  “I understand y’all need an escort to the stadium?” He winks at the driver.

  “Oh my God, thank you.” After the shittiest day in the world, I break into a grin.

  “We’re all rooting for Ryan. About time we get us a southern quarterback. We’ll learn those yanks a thing or two.”

  “Yes sir. Couldn’t agree more.” I laugh as he opens the back door of his squad car and I sit.

  “Put your seat belt on, hun. We got to move.”

  I wave goodbye to the limo driver and open my purse. “What do I owe you?”

  “Some guy named Jaz took care of everything. Y’all go on now and have a great time.”

  With sirens blaring, the sea of cars part, and my Moses gets me to a back door of the stadium in no time. He leaves me off in front of a man in an expensive pink suit and matching paisley print tie.

  “Kira, right?”

  I nod as I exit the car, still a bit dazed.

  “I’m Jaz.” He takes my chin in his hands. “Perfect. Come, come. This way.” He hands the cop a backstage pass and ushers me into the building.

  We go down a long dark hallway, through a boiler room, and I squint at the bright lights when we exit. Two more steps and I’m pulled into a locker-room-turned-makeup-studio.

  Jaz claps his hands and points to my jacket. “Quick, quick. No black. Off, off, off.”

  I raise my brows.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, I’ll turn my back. Just do it.” He turns to a short, young woman and says, “Trixie, hun, get the rack.”

  While I shrug out of my coat, the little blond rolls forward a clothes rack filled with a dozen dresses in drycleaner plastic.

  Another woman, more middle-aged, helps me undress partly and puts me in a silk robe before sitting me down on a stool.

  “Ow.” Her brush pulls at a tangle.

  “Sorry. No time to be gentle.” Jaz grabs a dress, puts the fabric next to my face and frowns.

  Then, he grabs another, and another. Who knew? My skin tone and hair are not to his liking.

  However, a forest green makes him squeal with delight. When he pulls off the plastic, I catch his mood. The long gown is exquisite with cutouts on the side and dips in the front.

  I gasp at the designer’s name. “Holy shit, I can’t afford that.”

  Jaz snickers and hands the dress to Trixie, “Oh girlfriend, yes you can. Hurry now, he’s about to be called. Hop, hop. Robe off.”

  He turns around and hands the dress to Trixie while I slip off the wrap as fast as I can.

  The hairdresser says, “Bra and panties, too.”

  I do as they say and lift up my arms, so the beautiful fabric can slide over my body.

  Trixie taps on Jaz’s shoulder who immediately takes a safety pin to the dress’s shoulder straps. He pulls in the waist, does some magic, then clucks his tongue as he turns on a monitor I hadn’t noticed before.

  We’re in a sixty second commercial as my hair gets pinned in a updo, my face airbrushed, and my eyes done in a jeweled green. Someone throws a mirror in front of my face and I’m pretty sure that’s not me.

  “Ryan Finnegan!”

  The stadium goes wild, Jaz takes my hand, and I’m blinded by bright spotlights.

  Ryan, looking more handsome than I’ve ever seen, grins for the cameras, already a super-star.

  “Thank y’all. I’m going to do my best to be deservin’ of your choice.” His eyes go wide as Jaz takes my arm and walks me closer to him on the stage.

  Thousands of people cheer as Ryan wanders forward, brows raised.

  An announcer says over the loudspeaker. “And here she is, Ms. Kira McKenzie, the number one’s draft’s number one gal.”

  Recovered from his shock, Ryan pulls me into his arms. “Well, now, Y’all pulled a fast one on me. This here is my lovely fiancé. She was supposed to be in New York City. I guess those folks didn’t suit her none.”

  As his voice echoes in the stadium loudspeakers, I wave at the crowd with my insides quivering. “Hi y’all. Ryan’s right. I sure am glad to be home.”

  Home is a few miles east, but for the first time, I understand. Home is wherever Ryan is at. When he kisses me, I can’t even think over the roar of the crowd.

  A whisper reaches my ear. “Good thing my pants are loose, darlin’ or the cameras would need to point above the waist to be age appropriate.”

  I reach up behind his neck and kiss him. “Congratulations, cowboy. You did it.”

  I have no idea what kind of life I’ve chosen but as long as he’s with me, I’m all in.

  Chapter 37

  Kira

  Other than that quick kiss in front of millions of people, I don’t see Ryan again until our commencement ceremony. However, he’s faithfully texted or called me every day. The last one said he was delayed on the tarmac.

  Seated outside with the rest of our graduating class, I watch his empty seat and hope he’ll make it here in time to get his diploma. When his head pops into view I stand and cheer with the rest of my classmates. He raises his cowboy hat while running between the aisles, stopping occasionally to give a high-five.

  With a theatrical flair, he tosses his hat to the woman seated beside him, zips up his gown and places the flat cap on his head. As she moves the tassel to the proper side, Ryan cranes his neck searching for me and I put up my hand.

  Then, everyone settles down and row by row we get our degrees. Despite the excitement, I’m struck with pangs of sadness. Jackson is with the Rams in Los Angeles so Star is headed to California. This is it. Things will never be the same and although we’ve promised to stay in touch, I wonder if we will.

  The speakers finish and Ryan’s row rises. One by one the president announces names and when his is called, the whole assembly bursts into cheers, me loudest of all. Not many know how hard it was for him to get that degree and I am so damn proud my heart is bursting.

  After the applause dies down, it seems forever for my row to stand. My knees shake as I approach the front, take the degree with my left and shake hands with my right.

  “Way to go, Kira!” Ryan whistles and shouts as I push the tassel to the side.

  Smiling, I take my seat until the name Knight Walker is called. My eyes shoot to the front to verify I heard right. Sure enough, Mr. Hollywood struts to the front, takes his degree, and waves to his famous parents not too far behind me, looking like royalty.

  I can’t believe the school let him graduate. It’s not right. The guy cheated to get in, was arrested for possession of Rohypnol and still, because of his parent’s money, he gets a degree. I vow, when I become a famous journalist, I’ll do what I can to keep shit like this from happening.

  The ceremony over, I search the sea of blue for Ryan. Jaz has us booked for a private dinner with both sets of parents. Someone takes my arm from behind and I turn.

  “Ry!” Laughing, I jump into his arms while people around me grumble I’m holding up traffic but I couldn’t care less.

  “Hey, Red.”

  He kisses me until some guy shouts, “Get a room, you two.”

  Ryan grabs my hand as if I was the ball, and moves us forward to the parking lot where parents are supposed to meet up with their kids.

  I search while Ryan is surrounded by a sea of well-wishers making it impossible for us to move. He signs some autographs with one hand, his other wrapped arou
nd my waist.

  Without warning, Knight is in my face and I gasp. “What do you want?”

  His parents appear out of nowhere and his dad says, “We would like you to drop the charges.”

  Oh, fuck me dead. Cameras start flashing. So, this is what it’s going to be like to be married to a celebrity?

  My mom and dad appear, as if out of nowhere and unlike the crowd, don’t appear star stuck whatsoever.

  “She will not.” My mousy mom, who never even says boo, goes nose to nose with Janette Walker, who’s been on more magazine covers than Oprah.

  Mrs. Walker seems taken aback for a moment, but her handsome-as-all-fuck husband steps forward. “This nonsense has gone on long enough, don’t you think? It was just a college prank, after all.”

  He flashes a toothy, GQ smile for the swarming paparazzi.

  Nonsense? Drugging and attempted rape? My heart pounds, my fists clench, and for the first time in my life, I want to hit someone right in the nose.

  Ryan must feel my fists tense. Concerned eyes glance toward me, to the cameras, then to my dad who actually might beat me to the punch.

  Jaz, sporting orange-framed sunglasses and a matching suit jacket pushes his way toward us, parting the crowd like Moses. “Ryan. Kira. Thank God, I found you.”

  He reaches a limp wrist to Mrs. Walker and hands her a card. “Dah-ling. You look absolutely wretched, dear. That color is all wrong for you. Give my stylist a call. You simply must.”

  Before her stunned face can react, Jaz turns and snaps a finger at the crowd. “Now move.”

  Holy shit, they do.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper at Ryan.

  He steps back to let our parents go in front of him. “No idea. Just go with the flow”

  Single file, we find our way to a waiting limo where Jaz opens the door. “Get in.”

  We all crawl in, Jaz last, and for the last time, depart FSCU.

  Ryan recovers first. “Mom, Dad. Meet Kira’s parents…”

  He doesn’t know their names so I help out. “Dustin and Margarette,”

  “Sandy and David,” Ryan’s mom shakes hands with mine across the seats.

  My mom gives Ryan a real smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Is it always like this?”