by Gina Drayer
Table of Contents
Book 1 of the Modern Girl’s Series
Newsletter
New York Press
Cooper
Emily
People Watching NYC
Star New York
Twitter
The Story continues
Before You Go
Also by Gina Drayer
Playing The Game
Playing the Game Duet: Part 1
Gina Drayer
Contents
Newsletter
New York Press
1. Cooper
2. Emily
3. Cooper
4. Emily
People Watching NYC
5. Cooper
6. Emily
7. Cooper
8. Emily
9. Emily
10. Cooper
Star New York
11. Cooper
12. Emily
Twitter
13. Cooper
14. Emily
Star New York
15. Emily
16. Cooper
People Watching NYC
17. Cooper
18. Emily
Star New York
19. Emily
20. Cooper
21. Emily
22. Cooper
23. Emily
24. Emily
25. Cooper
26. Cooper
27. Emily
New York Press
28. Emily
29. Cooper
30. Cooper
31. Emily
32. Emily
33. Cooper
New York Press
34. Cooper
Star New York
35. Emily
The Story continues
Before You Go
Also by Gina Drayer
Book 1 of the Modern Girl’s Series
Newsletter
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New York Press
Last Straw for New York’s Superstar Third Baseman?
Over the weekend, Cooper Reynolds was caught on tape accosting a New York City police officer. Reynolds had been pulled over for a suspected DUI after leaving a party. After being asked to step out of the vehicle, there was an argument and Reynold is seen on tape shoving the officer. No charges have been filled.
This isn’t his first brush with notoriety. Reynolds is well known for his hot temper on the field. Many will remember the fistfight that erupted on the field after Reynolds was hit by a Harold Clark’s wild pitch. Some speculated that the argument started earlier that day in the parking lot. Reynolds was spotted the night before at a bar with Clark’s sister.
It’s rumored that New York hasn’t renewed Reynolds’ contract for next year. Although it’s still too early to speculate, this might be the third baseman’s last strike.
1
Cooper
I looked out over the picturesque Manhattan skyline. The view from my penthouse was supposed to make me feel like a king overlooking his domain, or so the real estate agent told me. But today, I only felt detached, separated from the world below.
It was a gorgeous early November morning—deep blue sky, crisp air. The trees in Central Park were a riot of red and yellow, softening the grey and steel of the cityscape. It was the perfect fall day—the kind of day that a kid with a well-oiled glove in hand lived for.
I could still remember the warm fall days in Georgia. I used to get up early and cut through my neighbor’s backyard to reach the field a few blocks away. My friends and I would spend all day playing ball until the streetlights came on.
I can’t remember the last time I played simply for the joy of the game.
No, these days, the only things that matter were improving my stats, winning the next game, and landing the next endorsement. Joy wasn’t part of the equation. I know I shouldn’t complain. I get paid millions to play a game for a living.
At least, I used to get paid to play a game. After this weekend, I’m not sure I have a job with the league anymore.
Despite a great season, our team crashed and burned in post. Like many of my teammates, I’ve spent the last few weeks blowing off steam and licking my wounds. But this time, I went a little too far. I drank a little too much and did something stupid. And now it might cost me my contract.
The DUI was dismissed and wouldn’t have been an issue, but management had their panties in a bunch over the video of me pushing the police officer.
The asshole deserved it, and he knew it. It’s the reason why I wasn't arrested for assault. But the news kept playing the video, and my contract negotiations had stalled. There was even talk of trading me or maybe worse.
“I just got off the phone with Rodgers, and the team seems willing to talk,” my publicist Manny said on the other end of the phone. “But it will probably mean some big concessions. Are you ready to kiss ass?”
I made a sound of agreement in the back of my throat, even though I really wanted to tell them all to shove it. My side of the story didn’t seem to matter. All anyone saw was a multi-million dollar ball player pushing a beat cop.
And if the possibility of losing my career on the ball field wasn’t bad enough, my endorsements were dropping like flies. The latest one this morning—a beer company who’d signed me for a yearlong endorsement gig was threatening to drop me for violating the moral clause of my contract. A moral clause for a beer company?
Even though it wasn’t fair, I knew there wasn’t much I could do about the court of public opinion. I needed to let Manny do damage control, and if that meant kissing ass, that’s what I’d do. Because when it came down to it, being a ballplayer was all I knew.
“What am I going to do with you?” Manny asked. “It’s bad when you’re too out of control for a fucking beer company. I’m going to need help on this one. I’m bringing in some big guns. There’s a team out of Chicago that can help with damage control.”
“Isn’t that what I pay you for?”
“I’m not a fucking miracle worker, Coop. I was able to manage the press earlier in your career. Hell, I could have even handled this if you’d have helped me out a little.”
“Help you out? What do you mean by that?” I asked, starting to get irritated. I’m paying Manny a hell of a lot of money to handle the press. I didn’t need another person telling me what to do and how to act.
“Stop with the public fights for one,” Manny said with a frustrated sigh. “You have got to keep your cool. Management wants you to get some help with your anger issues. We’ll find you a therapist or anger management. I’ve heard meditation helps.”
“Meditate?” I laughed, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Sure, Manny. I’ll get right on that.”
“You’re a hot head. The fans love that about you,” Manny said in a placating tone. “But things have gotten out of control. That brawl on the field in August almost ended your career, and now the thing with the cop… Are you trying to get fired?”
“That cop put his hands up my date’s dress.” I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to stave off a headache. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let him harass her like that?”
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that this was all because of Lisa Zappala?”
“Who?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?
Can he really be such a yutz?” Manny said under his breath, and I swear I heard the older man slap his forehead. “Lisa Zappala. The woman that was in the car with you that night. The one you were defending. Ring a bell?”
“Oh. I thought her name was Tina.”
“Tina. Lisa. It doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter to the press. All they see is you shoving that cop. You need to cool it with the women. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“You can’t be serious.”
What the hell? He was berating me like a kid who’d got caught coming in past curfew. I’m twenty-seven for fuck’s sake. I’m the one who pays Manny’s bills. I don’t need a fucking lecture.
I turned away from the window, pissed, and my eyes flicked to the rumpled bed. A few hours earlier a leggy blonde had occupied the space. She was exactly the kind of woman Manny thought I needed to stay away from: cleat chasers.
I’d had my pick from a number of women at the party last night. I ended up with a model who’d flashed me a smile, all pink and innocent. But she was far from it. She’d left before I was even awake. So what if I didn’t even know her last name? It was just a little fun, and we were both consenting adults. And it wasn’t Manny’s or the fucking press’s business.
“My private life is off the table,” I said, firmly.
“Normally, I’d agree, but the no women thing isn’t coming from me. This is coming from the PR specialist. They’ve outlined a plan, and I think it’s a great idea.”
“And I told you I don’t want another publicist.”
“Naomi Dhawan’s firm specializes in crisis management and rehabbing images. And trust me, you need her,” Manny said without hesitation. “I’ve seen her work miracles with cases far worse than yours. But you need to have an open mind and really listen to her ideas.”
There was a long pause, and that had me worried. Manny was never one to mince words. For him, time was money, so whatever he wasn’t saying had to be bad. I braced himself for the worst.
“She thinks a squeaky clean girlfriend will help your image in the press,” he said but went on before I could respond with a well-deserved WTF. “Before you tell me no. We’re not talking about a real girlfriend. Just one for show. Naomi thinks if management sees you are in a committed relationship, they’ll believe that you’ve turned over a new leaf, and we might be able to salvage your contract negotiations.”
“I don’t care what she thinks," I said, squeezing the bridge of my nose. Manny was out of his mind if he thought I was going to go along with this plan. “You manage my public image. Public, not my private. Period. That’s my business.”
“It’s not your private life when it’s all over page six,” Manny snapped back. “Just give this a chance. The whole plan is brilliant. There’s this charity and the girl who runs it is perfect. Just imagine the headlines. A New York Cinderella story. The media is going to eat that shit up, and you’ll get your contract renewed before Christmas.”
Oh, I imagined the whole thing alright. They’d fix me up with some uptight goody-two-shoes. And knowing my luck, she’d probably be fuggly, too. Who else would agree to go along with this crazy plan?
“I don’t care how it would play with the media,” I said, pacing the length of my room. “I won’t do it. Tell your specialist to think of something else.”
“She’s your specialist, not mine. This is your best option.” Manny paused, took a deep breath, and softened his tone. “Look, I get it. You’re young, and you’ve got oats to sow. But the fact is, if we don’t get in front of public opinion, you're just one disaster away from being persona non grata in the entire league. And if the team drops you, how many women do you think you’ll get then?”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
I closed my eyes, remembering the model from last night. Jean? Jenny? I can’t remember her name, but she’d smelled like sugar cookies and tasted just as sweet. If I had to get a girlfriend, I could probably hunt her down and play house for a couple of weeks while Manny finished the negotiations. It might even be fun. We could play it up for the cameras, and she could spend a few more nights in my bed.
“Fine. I’ll go along with the girlfriend plan, but I get to pick. I actually have someone in mind.”
“That’s not going to work,” Manny said, flatly. “We’ve already picked out the girl. She’s an absolute doll, a native New Yorker with a great backstory. She’s one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever meet. She’s perfect.”
I didn’t like the idea of dating a girl that Manny would describe as sweet. The beautiful women of the world were rarely sweet. But then I thought about not being able to put on my uniform next year. Having to figure out something else to do with my life. Maybe Manny was right, I’m out of options.
I flopped down on the edge of my bed. The reality of the situation felt like a heavy weight pressing into my chest. Why can’t I just play ball and live my life? Why does everyone have to be up in my personal business?
The plan might be a bit unconventional, but it was growing on me. The only problem I see was the woman. A sweet girl who works for a charity. That definitely wasn’t my type. And while Manny may be a wizard at manipulating the media, they’re not completely stupid. They were going to see right through this plan. No one would believe I would date some homely, do-gooder.
“You’re sure this is going to help?”
“Absolutely,” Manny said without hesitation. “Think of this woman as your closer, Coop. We’re down to the wire, and you’re behind. We’re going to bring her in, and she’s going to win this one for you. I guarantee it.”
“You’re putting a lot of faith in one woman.”
“The woman’s a saint, and you should thank your lucky stars she agreed to this deal.”
“I don’t know…”
“At least, meet the girl. She’ll be at my office this afternoon to sign some paperwork.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.” I turned off the phone and tossed it onto the bed, frustrated. The last thing I wanted to do is meet this girl, but I know Manny won’t let it go. I’ll play their game for now. Then after this meeting, I’d point out all the reasons why she wasn’t going to work.
I collapsed back onto the soft pillow top. The light scent of sugar cookies still lingered on the sheet. I sighed, wanting to start the whole day over again. Hell, the whole week.
Unfortunately, this whole thing was a problem of my own making. And one way or another, my life was about to change.
2
Emily
I was here way too early—which is unusual for me. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I thought actually showing up would soothe some of my nerves. Yeah, right. Being here has done just the opposite.
So there I was, twenty minutes before my meeting, pacing the lobby of a posh New York office building. I probably looked slightly unhinged, mumbling to myself and taking deep breaths as I struggle to calm myself down. The black kitten heels that I had to fish out of the back of my closet clicked softly on the marble floor as I paced, creating a fast staccato rhythm to go along with my racing thoughts.
What was I thinking when I agreed to this arrangement? This whole thing was crazy. No, it was beyond crazy. The whole idea was certifiable. While I’m always looking for new donors to help with the shelter’s many expenses, I’ve never gone this far.
I’ve never put my own reputation on the line.
Reflexively, I reached into my purse, rummaging around until my fingers grazed the smooth, cool surface of my lucky stone. Squeezing the hard object in my palm, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Exhale and repeat.
“Just get it over with,” I whispered under my breath.
I straighten my back and marched up to the elevator, but couldn’t push the button. My reflection stared back at me from the polished elevator doors. Judging. This wasn’t going to end well. I could feel it in my bones. I still had time to change my mind.
Think of what you can do with that money, the small voice in the b
ack of my mind whispered
I closed my eyes, blocking out my reflection, and rubbed the stone once more. The donation that Cooper Reynolds was going to make would make a difference. One hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money. Money that I could use to finally expand the shelter. With a bigger building we could take in more families; keep more kids off the street.
There wasn’t any more space at their current location. If we wanted to grow, we needed to move the shelter into a new building. And I found the perfect location. The new building could accommodate at least twice as many families, and I could finally open the after-school center we’ve been talking about for years.
But a move like that isn’t cheap.
I didn’t have any more money to give to the shelter. The vast majority of my inheritance went to opening the doors. And the bank has already turned me down for a loan. It would take years of fundraising to save up a hundred thousand dollars. They were only asking for two months of my life.