by West, Harper
But if things got too bad, I knew he wouldn't be willing anymore. There were plenty of other players he could find to replace me if he had to.
I sighed again. "Okay. So what's the plan, then?"
Kathleen always had a plan. That was one of the things I liked best about her. She didn't let shit drag out.
"PR," she said. "I've looked into a few firms and found one that seems promising. They're going to have a publicist contact me after they've done some digging."
That didn't sound so bad. "So they're going to what, fix my image?"
"Something like that. And I swear to god, Kevin, you had better work with whoever they send. This is serious."
"Yeah, I get that it's serious, Kath. Okay? I do. I am taking this seriously."
She narrowed her eyes at me like she didn't quite believe I was telling the truth, and then sighed. "Look. I know it's probably not easy to find out your ex-wife is accusing you of things like this—"
"I don't give a shit about what she says," I cut in. "I care about what it's going to do."
"Right," Kathleen replied, again looking like she didn't believe me. "Well, whatever. Just stay out of trouble until the publicist can get in contact with you."
"Fine," I said. "I can do that. But I have some rules for this publicist. I don't need someone else digging through my life trying to drag shit up."
"Fuck your rules," Kathleen retorted. "Whatever they have to do to fix this, they can do. I'm giving them carte blanche."
"Great. Thanks so much," I said, deadpan.
"You're fucking welcome. You're lucky I put up with your ungrateful ass."
"I am always grateful for you, Kath," I replied, flashing her a bright smile.
She just rolled her eyes and stalked out of the locker room, leaving me alone.
Once she was gone, I picked up the magazine again, actually flipping it open. I'd seen some choice quotes all over the internet and TV already, but a stupid, masochistic part of me wanted to read the whole thing and see what exactly Christine was saying.
She had always had a flair for the dramatic. She was a passable actress when it came to her work, but in every other aspect of her life, she was a diva. She would wheedle and manipulate, cry and lash out, doing whatever she had to do to get what she wanted.
Back when she’d wanted me, I'd been pretty damned helpless to resist her charms, but it hadn't taken long for me to realize she wasn't as wonderful as she wanted to seem.
'I loved him', Ms. Williams told me, a far-off look of wistful sadness in her eyes. 'I loved him so much. I thought he could do anything. I thought he would never hurt me. I wanted to be with him forever, but I knew I couldn't trust him. I just had to convince myself that I could leave him.’
I rolled my eyes and tore the magazine down the middle, throwing both halves into the trash with a glare.
If she had ever fucking loved me, I'd eat my bat.
Chapter 3
Caro
Usually it took a lot longer to work out a contract between a PR firm and a client. Things were hashed out, prices were negotiated. But from what I heard from Sam and Gordon, Kevin's agent was desperate. Every day that went by was another day where more articles were being done about him. More talking heads on TV giving their two cents about Kevin's character.
I watched a bit of it, just because it would help me gauge where to start.
Most of the more sports minded people seemed to be of the opinion that men would be men, and Kevin was a sports great. One loud, ranting man on the major sports network went on and on about how Kevin was one of the youngest players in the history of the game to ever achieve the things he had achieved, and anything less than awe and respect was a disservice to his career.
His female counterpart had scoffed and asked if that meant the people had to overlook his indiscretions, which had sent the man into another spluttering rant.
Meanwhile, the midday talk shows were having a field day, playing clips from Rootless and showing the cover of the magazine with Christine's article in it, bringing up what a sweet woman and good actress she was.
The trending topics flipped from being supportive of Christine to talking about Kevin's general image, and it was clear that whether or not people believed what Christine had said in her interview, they were going to keep talking about it.
At least until the next superstar did something stupid or someone died. That was just the way those things went. Whatever was in the public eye was all they cared about until something bigger distracted them.
But sponsors were different. They had demographics to cater to, and moms weren't going to be happy buying cereal for their kids if it was endorsed by someone they thought was a bad influence. They just weren't. And major brands weren't going to take the chance on losing that kind of money.
So the urgency was understandable. It was a Tuesday, when Sam brought the matter to my attention, and by Wednesday evening, I'd had a phone call with Kevin's agent.
She had laid out what was at stake and what they were hoping I could do to fix it. In return, I'd given her my spiel. I would do everything I could to make her client look better, but it was going to have to be a team effort.
"His actions are going to have to match the spin I'm putting on things," I told her. "It won't work if I'm trying to sell him as reformed and he keeps doing the same things."
"I understand," she'd said, and she sounded tired. I could only imagine how much harder her job had been since the story broke. "And I'll make sure Kevin understands. He had the nerve to text me a list of rules for this whole thing. Can you believe it?"
I could, actually. It sounded like a Kevin thing to do. When I'd known him best, he was always trying to control things, trying to make sure things went the way he wanted them to. Not in a bad way, either. It just made him work extra hard. But he didn't have any say so here.
"Please inform him that I will do whatever it takes to do my job properly," I said.
"I told him he could fuck his rules," Kathleen said, and I laughed.
"That is one way to put it."
"He's going to be the reason I go gray before I'm fifty," she continued. "I'd like to set up a meeting between the two of you. It doesn't make much sense for me to play telephone, when you'll be working with him directly. I am sure you have a lot on your plate already, but the sooner we can get started with this, the better."
I'd already known that was coming. Of course it made more sense for me to meet with Kevin directly, however much I didn't want to. But, I reminded myself, this was business. It was just a job. I could do my job and do it well.
"Of course," I replied. "I'm available on Friday afternoon and then on Monday morning."
"Friday would be perfect. Should I have him call you?"
"No," I said quickly. "No, just have him meet me at the coffee shop on thirty-sixth. It's quiet and out of the way, so there shouldn't be any issues. Let's call it three p.m.?"
"Three on Friday," she repeated. "Perfect."
It was far from perfect. Thursday was spent trying to focus on building up my plan so I could lay it out for Kevin in the most professional way possible, but my head was a mess.
I kept wondering how much he knew. Had his agent mentioned my name? And if she had, was that good or bad? I had no idea how, or even if, Kevin thought about me these days. It had been going on six years since we'd last seen each other in person, and I didn't know what to expect.
The more prepared I was, the easier it would be, but it was hard to focus when I felt so unsure about what I was getting myself into.
But Kevin wasn't the only one who liked to control a situation. I hadn't gotten as far as I had by letting things get the better of me. So on Friday, I was dressed in my best business suit, with my portfolio case in hand as I strode into Grinders at twenty until three.
Very early, but I wanted to choose the table and have time to prepare myself before he came walking in.
As usual, the place was pretty quiet. I usually used t
he shop as a neutral place to meet with clients, since it rarely saw too much foot traffic, and there wasn't a lot of chance for clients to be ambushed by fans or photographers.
The baristas knew me, and smiled when I settled at a table in the corner with a good view of the door. I placed an order for a muffin and a cup of coffee and went over my notes while I waited.
I was mid-mouthful of coffee when Kevin walked in. The chime above the door jingled, and I glanced up, regretting having a mouthful of hot coffee as soon as I saw him. My swallow was painful, and I tried not to stare.
It was hard to go more than a few days without seeing Kevin Porter's face somewhere. He was on commercials and always being interviewed for something or other. There was a billboard in Times Square with his face on it, for crying out loud.
But none of that was the same as seeing him come striding in. People (me included) could say what they wanted about him, but he was fucking gorgeous. He always had been, and it had only gotten worse with age. He was tall, easily clearing six feet, with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair that fell into his eyes and over his ears. He had a clean-cut, all American look about him, the perfect face to sell products, and it was only emphasized by the dimples in his cheeks, the main thing people commented on when they talked about his appearance.
They always appeared when he smiled, giving him a boyish charm that drove women and some men alike completely wild.
He dragged a hand through those curls as I watched, his eyes darting around the shop, and then they landed on me and widened.
For a second, he hesitated, and then started walking in my direction.
I busied myself with taking another sip of coffee and wiping my mouth, folding my hands on top of my papers and meeting his gaze when he came over.
"You know," he said. "When Kathleen told me I was meeting someone named Carolyn James, I didn't even think it would be you."
Good. I had the upper hand, then.
Or at least, I should have, but the way he was gazing at me had me feeling flushed, and I shook myself minutely. "Mr. Porter," I said. "Please, have a seat."
He frowned, but dropped into the chair across from mine. "Really, Caro? Is that how we're gonna do this?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"You just called me 'Mr. Porter'."
"That's your name."
"You've never called me that in your life," he fired back.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "You're my client, currently," I said in my best crisp business tones. "How would you prefer to be addressed?"
"Kevin is fine," he said, looking like he wasn't quite sure what was happening.
"Kevin then," I replied. "In any case, you know why we're here. You're having an image issue, and I am here to fix it."
"That's a nice way of putting 'I'm being slandered by a bitch'," he muttered.
"Technically, it would be libel, since it was a printed article," I murmured. "And calling her a bitch isn't exactly going to help your cause."
He sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. I could feel his eyes on me, so I looked away, giving the stack of notes my attention, drinking my coffee, brushing crumbs from the table. Anything to avoid paying attention to his gaze.
Through sheer force of will, I made my face not get hot with a blush. It had been six years, and it wasn't fair that he was still able to have this effect on me.
Just because he was gorgeous, and I'd once craved his attention more than anything, didn't mean I was the same person I was back then.
I'd grown up. I'd gotten over the way things used to be. I didn't need his attention. I didn't want it.
I wanted to do my job.
I shuffled the papers and stacked them neatly in front of me, glancing up and keeping my expression polite and neutral.
"I have a plan," I said. "I'm good at this, and if you listen to me and do what I tell you to do, then you can save your career. If not, you can go broke like all the other wash-ups. It doesn't really matter much to me."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you give that charming speech to all your clients?" he asked.
"Only the difficult ones," I replied coolly.
"I'm not difficult," he said. "I'm easy. I'm so easy."
"And that's why you're in this situation to begin with."
Kevin winced and then sighed. "Okay, I deserved that, I guess." He tapped his fingers on the table, shifting his position. "It's not true, you know. The shit Christine is saying about me. I'm not like that."
When I met his eyes, it looked like he really wanted me to believe him. I couldn't imagine why. He had been in the spotlight long enough to know that it didn't matter what the truth was. I shouldn't have had to explain that to him.
"Alright," I said with a shrug. "If that helps you sleep at night, then good for you. But you know it's not going to make this any easier."
"Yeah, that's what Kathleen said."
"She's a smart woman. You're going to have to do some work, and you're going to have to rein it in."
"For how long?"
"Until this blows over, and then a bit longer for good measure. Until people only care about your ability to hit a baseball again."
"When you say work, you mean...?"
I had an itemized list just for that. It paid to be prepared. "I mean, photo ops with children, possibly a public apology. Pushing harder for your more wholesome sponsors to trust you. Whatever they bring you, you're going to have to do. Community service out of the goodness of your own heart, and not being seen partying or anything."
Kevin looked less than pleased with what I was saying, but that was too bad. If he wanted me to help him, he was going to have to listen. Otherwise, I was fine with letting him crash and burn.
Or so I told myself.
He sighed again, and when I looked at him, I could tell he was tired. It must have been a rough few days for him, all things considered. Reporters could be vicious about this kind of thing, and I was sure they were hounding him for his side of the story.
That could work in our favor, but it couldn't have been easy to deal with.
"Can we stop talking about this?" he asked abruptly.
I frowned. "What else would we talk about? This is the only reason we're here."
"I don't know. Anything else. My whole life has been this for the last forty-eight hours it feels like, and I just need a break. Tell me about you. You're doing well, clearly. Big shot publicist."
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to keep myself focused. "We're not here to socialize, Kevin," I said. "This is business, nothing more. We're not friends."
This time when he winced, it looked like I had hurt his feelings, and I wanted to roll my eyes. After everything he'd done, I wasn't going to feel guilty for not wanting to chitchat with him like it was all fine.
"We should at least be friendly, though, right?" he pointed out. "If we're going to be working together. I assume there will be more meetings like this one, and I'd feel a lot more comfortable letting you take over my personal life for the next however long if I felt like you didn't hate me."
I hated when he had a point. Antagonism wasn't going to help matters here at all. I inhaled deeply and let it out on a slow breath. "Fine," I said. "And I don't hate you. I don't think about you enough to hate you."
"See, that's what I'm talking about, though. You say things like that, and it hurts me. I'm hurt, Caro." He batted his eyelashes at me, and I rolled my eyes, leaning away from the table and him.
"You're trying my patience," I said. "And that's not going to lead to me wanting to be friendly with you."
"Why'd you take this job?" he asked, head tipped to the side. "I'm gonna assume you knew it was me before you said yes to it."
"I did," I agreed. "It's a big job. Like it or not, you're a big name." I left it at that. I wasn't about to go into the struggles of my career with someone who didn't understand what it felt like to be passed over in the slightest.
"So it's
fame you're after," he replied with a grin. "You want to be known as the one who saved Kevin Porter's ass."
"You're not that important," I shot back.
He just kept grinning. "Sure, sure. So...big, important job, I get that. What else has been going on with you. I don't see a wedding ring. Are you seeing anyone?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded.
"I'm just curious. And things are a little uneven now, wouldn't you say? You've basically got an all access pass to all my personal drama, and I don't know anything about what's going on with you."
Again, he had a fair point, but it felt sour when I thought about it. The last thing I wanted was any kind of insight into his personal life. I didn't want to know what he got up to, and if it weren't for the fact that he was basically a household name when it came to sports, I wouldn't have to think about him at all. I certainly wasn't about to give him a look into my life.
There wasn't much to look at, anyway.
I went to work. I came home. I tried to sleep. I got up and did it all over again. Sometimes on the weekends I went for jogs or had dinner with my parents. Sometimes I met my friends for drinks.
I wasn't seeing anyone. I hadn't dated in...over a year, I was pretty sure. Not since the last person I'd tried to make something with had told me I was too ambitious and that was going to be the thing that made sure I was single forever.
I'd told him that if that was the line, I would happily die alone, and then kicked him out of my apartment.
Since then, I hadn't had the time. I hadn't made the time. If that was the attitude, then I didn't want anything to do with it.
But I wasn't going to tell Kevin any of that. For one thing, it was none of his business, and for another, it felt pathetic. He was clearly not hurting in the romance department, so much so that it was causing him trouble now, and the last thing I wanted was his pity or whatever.
"Look," I said. "We can be friendly. I'll refrain from making judgements about your behavior except for where it keeps me from doing my job. But I'm not going to spill my personal business for you. I haven't seen or spoken to you in six years, and we're only talking now because you need my help. So let's not try to make this something it's not."