Groupie (Juked Book 2)

by ME Carter

  How fast will this blow over? Am I going to lose my job? Will I lose Rowen?

  Rowen. The thought of this fresh humiliation brings tears to my eyes. He’s been so good to me since our fight, despite his reservations about my reputation. But this! This is going to be too much.

  I remember he sent me a text. CALL ME.

  I don’t know if that means “Call me because I’m worried,” or “Call me so I can break up with you.” I’m not sure I want to know.

  Amy, the news director, Ron, the general manager, and Paul, the executive producer, walk into my office. A lady from HR follows them and closes the door behind her. I wedge my hands between my thighs, trying to get as small as possible without crawling under my desk.

  Caleb is sent back downstairs with explicit instructions not to transfer any calls up here no matter who it is or how emergent they say it is. The office phone is turned off and they take random seats around the room. Amy looks at me with sympathy. “You know we have to run the story, right?”

  I look down and nod. I’m not surprised. The picture and caption have been viewed millions of times. It’s the biggest sports scandal since Erin Andrews was secretly videotaped in her hotel rooms. The difference is she was very clearly a victim. I just look like a whore.

  Amy rests her elbows on her knees. “We absolutely will not show that picture.” I wince at the thought of her seeing it. “We won’t show any picture of you at all.” I close my eyes and nod. “But we want you to make a statement.”

  My eyes widen in surprise. “What do you want me to say?” I can’t even think straight.

  “We can help you decide what to say. I’ve been doing this a long time, and this isn’t the first scandal I’ve been involved in. It always seems to go better if you face it head on.”

  “I’ll think on it,” I say. “I’m assuming you want to look over it before we release it?”

  She smiles. “Of course. I wanna help you with this as much as possible.”

  “I’m not losing my job?”

  She scoffs, and Ron chuckles. “Tiffany, we’re here to support you,” Ron says. “Whether Mr. Shivel is telling the truth or not is irrelevant. You’re a great employee, and we’re lucky to have you.”

  I wipe my cheek as a tear escapes. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my boss, and not just my boss, but my boss’s boss. More humiliation piles on me, and I realize I’m shaking.

  “I talked to Steve about twenty minutes ago,” Paul says from across the room, pen tucked behind one ear. “He was already scheduled to be back from vacation tomorrow, which works great, because he agrees you need to take some time off.”

  I look at these people I admire and respect. “Why do I need time off?”

  “Whether you realize it now or not,” Amy says. “You’ve suffered a big trauma today. You’re in survival mode right now, but once that adrenaline wears off, you’re going to crash. You need time to get through that and maybe find a therapist or see if there is any legal action you need to take. Unfortunately, you’ll be dealing with the aftermath of this for a while. We want to make sure you have time to do that.”

  My heart sinks. I love my job. I know they aren’t firing me or kicking me out, but a forced vacation makes me feel like I’ve let them all down. It sucks.

  With a tap of his pen on a yellow legal pad, Paul pipes up. “Before you go, though, you still have a show to produce.”

  “I know,” I say. “I can still do my job. Mannie will be back from dinner soon, and we already have the show stacked. We just have to see how all the games play out.”

  Amy stands. “I guess we’ll leave you to it.” The other three stand as well and make their way out of the room.

  As soon as they’re gone, my cell rings again. It’s Rowen. I muster as much courage as I can and slide the green button.

  “Hey,” I say, rubbing my forehead. Caleb slinks back into the room and turns the office phone back on.

  “Are you okay, babe? Holy shit, are you okay?”

  I laugh without humor. “Yeah. The day has turned out to be great.”

  “I could kill that fucker. I’m serious, Tiff. I’m so ready to get in the car right now, drive all the way to Florida, and beat the ever-loving shite out of him.”

  “Wow, you’re really mad,” I say, rocking my chair back and forth. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.”

  “I only do it when I’m angry, and can ye hear the accent bleeding through?”

  I smile. “Just a little.”

  “Really, though.” His voice gets quiet. “How are you?”

  I blink back tears. I sniff and swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t even know where that picture came from, Rowen. How am I ever going to go out in public again? Oh god.” I cross my arms, feeling exposed.

  “Do you need me to come up there? Because I will. I can sit quietly while you work, as long as we’re in the same room together.”

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate that. But I’ll be okay. I have to be.”

  “I’m gonna be there when you finish. You get off at ten thirty, right?”

  “Rowen,” I say, shaking my head. “If you wait for me outside, someone is going to see you and take your picture. It’ll just give them more to talk about.”

  “I can let him in during the show,” Caleb interrupts, apparently catching the gist of my conversation, even though he can only hear one side of it. “I’ll hang out with him while you’re in the booth so he’s ‘appropriately supervised,’ as HR would say.”

  I take a deep breath. “Did you hear that?” I ask Rowen.

  “Yep. Some guy will let me in and escort me around the building so I don’t get into any trouble. Got it.”

  I smile for the first time since this whole debacle started. “’l’ll see you around ten thirty then.”

  “Yep. And hey… I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Bye.” We hang up, and I glance at Caleb, who is staring at me. “What?”

  He shrugs. “He needs to be here. Not for you, but for him. His woman was violated publicly, and there’s nothing he can do about it. The only way he can feel like he’s protecting you is to be here.”

  I nod and turn back to my monitor.

  The next several hours are not only a blur but the slowest hours of my life. There is so much to get done, from watching the games to updating the scores and writing my statement. Normally, I have fun when it gets chaotic, but tonight it takes an incredible amount of focus to stay on track. I want this day to be over. The thought of having a mandatory vacation doesn’t seem so bad now.

  To his credit, Mannie and his photog don’t say anything at all about the picture beyond asking how we’re going to handle it. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t get rid of the questions in the room. He’s wondering if I actually sucked off the entire team, just like I’m wondering if he looked at the picture. The thing is, I know every one of my coworkers did. We work in news. It’s our job to look at pictures. That means every single person in the building has seen me naked. The thought makes me want to throw up again.

  By the time ten o’clock rolls around, my skin practically itches. I’m so ready to leave. We race around like normal, making last minute edits. At ten fifteen, my walk of shame begins.

  I head down the stairs into the newsroom. There aren’t many people around. Most of the photogs and reporters are still out in the field. I refuse to look the few who are there in the eye as I walk by. I just keep my chin up. If I have to go through this humiliation, I will do it with as much dignity as I can muster. Conversation stops as I pass. There are some snickers.

  Pushing through the heavy studio door to drop off Mannie’s last minute scripts, I overhear a conversation between two of the camera operators.

  “Did you see that picture, though? No way the team isn’t hitting that.”

  “Well, I would. She’s pretty, but I had no idea her body was so bangin’.”

  “I know what my screensaver is g
oing to be now.” They laugh, and I want to die.

  “You’re all a bunch of douchebags,” the lone female camera operator in the group says. “That’s your coworker. Your friend. And this is how you treat her when something like this happens? You participate in humiliating her? You laugh at what is essentially a form of sexual assault?” Her voice rises in indignation. It’s a good thing we’re on a commercial break. “I may not be as pretty as her, but you can damn well believe none of you will ever tap this now that I’ve seen who you guys really are. I’ve lost all respect for you as men.”

  I clear my throat and everyone freezes, the conversation coming to a screeching halt. I drop the scripts in front of Mannie and look at the countdown clock. “Thirty seconds.”

  Casey looks at me and smiles. I nod at her in recognition of her support. It’s not much, but it gives me enough strength to make it through the next five minutes.

  In the production booth, I sit and throw my headphones on. The sports credits roll, and Mannie appears on camera. My heart is pounding as he reads from the teleprompter.

  “The big story in the world of sports tonight: Former Texas Mutiny player Mack Shivel posting a derogatory picture on his Instagram account today, creating a major scandal involving his former teammates and one of those teammate’s girlfriend. As you’ll recall, Shivel was traded to the Florida Seagulls last month after a brutal season last year. Rumor has it he was unhappy with the trade, and there is speculation that his post is a response to that. In the post he writes….”

  The words pop up on the screen as Mannie continues.

  “’News Four Sports producer by day, soccer groupie by night, Tiffany Wendel is the reigning champion of the Texas Mutiny’s’, well, we can’t say what kind of races on television. It continues with ‘Easy on the eyes and easy in the bedroom. She’s the man of Rowen Flanigan’s dreams’.”

  Mannie leans into the camera. “This, of course, leading to lots of questions about the things the players are involved in behind the scenes. The person in the spotlight right now, however, is one of our own employees. We can confirm Tiffany is a sports producer here. She’s been a producer here for almost two years. She loves sports and loves her job. And needless to say, she tells us she is shocked and appalled by Mr. Shivel’s behavior. Out of respect for my fellow colleague and because it’s highly inappropriate, we won’t be showing any pictures of Tiffany. However, she has released a statement and has asked me to read it.”

  Another word graphic comes up.

  “‘I have been working with the Texas Mutiny for years,” Mannie reads. “Because of our mutual love of the game, I consider the players friends. I was terribly mistaken when I included Mack Shivel in that description. I have no idea where that picture came from. I don’t know who took it, nor do I know how they got it. This is a huge violation to my privacy, and I will be looking into taking legal action.’”

  Mannie comes back on the screen. It’s the longest story we’ve ever done in the sports segment without rolling any video, but I’m so grateful the station supported me by not showing my face.

  Mannie continues. “This is the first and last time we will address this story unless there is, in fact, legal action taken by either party. The station fully supports Tiffany’s right to privacy and recognizes what a fantastic producer she is. We ask that you do the same.”

  I blink back tears as Mannie moves on to the next story. My statement is out there. I’m sure it’ll be quoted nationwide, just like we planned. I can check that off my list of things that have to be done to regain control over my life.

  Three and a half minutes later, the sports segment is over.

  “We love you, Tiffany,” One of the news anchors says through the monitors. “Keep your chin up. We’re behind you one-hundred percent.”

  I gather my stuff so I can leave.

  “I’m sorry, Tiffany,” a camera operator says through the headphones as I shuffle papers. “I never thought of how it must feel to you. It won’t happen again.”

  I press the button in front of me to speak. “Too late,” I reply. “You’re either an asshole who finds stuff like this funny, or you’re a man of integrity. You’ve made it clear which one you are.” I throw my headphones on the desk, push the door open, and walk out of the room, not looking back.

  “Caleb!” I yell when I reach the newsroom.

  “Lobby!”

  I push my way into the lobby. There are no lights on because it’s after regular business hours, but I can see him in the dark.

  Rowen opens his arms. I race over to him, reveling in finally feeling safe, protected.

  I finally let myself cry.

  I can breathe now that she’s in my arms. It’s been one hell of a day.

  I’ve been called into a meeting with my coach, HR, and the PR department. I’ve talked to Mam twice. I’ve disabled all my social media accounts. I’ve avoided almost all calls to my cell. I’ve ignored lots of derogatory remarks about my girlfriend from random people on the street, who seem to think this whole thing is funny.

  Worse than any of it has been my worry over her. I can’t even imagine the betrayal she feels right now. Listening to her sobs confirms my girl, who is usually so confident and self-assured, has been broken. It breaks my heart.

  “It’s okay,” I murmur into her hair as I rub her back and kiss the top of her head. “We’re gonna get through this.”

  “I can’t believe you’re not breaking up with me.” She sounds muffled with her face in my chest, but I hear her words loud and clear.

  “Why would I break up with you over this?” I genuinely don’t know how she came to that conclusion. I wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  “People know, Rowen,” she says, like that’s some sort of an explanation. “They know the things I did. They know I was a groupie in every sense of the word. It was hard enough on you when it was only the team that knew. Why would you want to be with me after all that?”

  I shake my head, like I’m trying to get my brain to understand what she’s just said. “Why would I be humiliated? We talked about this before. So you had a sex life before me. It doesn’t thrill me, but I’ve gotten over it.” I tip her chin up so she’s looking at me. “I’m so damn proud to have you as my girlfriend. Every time we go out, I know people are wondering how I got such a gorgeous, smart, amazing woman. I don’t deserve you.” I kiss her one more time. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I need to get my purse,” she says.

  “I already have it.” I grab it off the chair. “Caleb got it for me. He’s a nice guy.”

  She smiles. “He is. He fielded a lot of horrible phone calls today.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  She takes her purse from me and holds it close to her chest. “I have never been called a whore so many times in my life. I’m not sure which was worse, being called names or having people critique my body.”

  “People actually did that?” I feel my face warm with fury. “People actually called you to critique parts of your body?”

  She nods. “And email, and text, and post online.” Her eyes fill with tears. “One person said he was a surgeon and told me to call him. He said… he said”—she lifts her fingers to make air quotes—“my labia looks like it has been stretched due to overuse, and he could fix it. Ridiculous, right?”

  She tries to snicker, but I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. The look on her face gives away her true feelings. I hold her tight again. “Fuck, baby. That’s just… oh my god, that’s not okay. The statement. The suggestion. Drawing people’s attention to that part of you. That’s not okay!”

  I drop my hands and pace the room for a second, trying to pull myself back together.

  “I don’t even think he was a real surgeon,” she says quietly. “Just some asshole trying to be funny.”

  I take her purse and open it, pulling out her sunglasses. “Let’s go. Put these on.”

  She takes them from me. “It’s almost eleven at night. Why am I putting
sunglasses on?”

  “There are some photogs outside. I figured you wouldn’t want them to see you’ve been crying.”

  She slides them over her eyes, and we leave. Immediately, several guys with cameras get up in our faces.

  “Hey Tiffany, do you have a response to Mack’s claims?”

  As hard as it’s been on her, I have to give my girl credit. She’s not crumbling under the pressure. “I already gave my statement. I’m sure your news director was watching our show tonight and wrote it all down. If not, you can get it on the Channel Four Sports website.”

  I tuck her into the car, and they come after me.

  “What about you, Rowen? Do you have a response?”

  I stop in my tracks, hand on the driver’s side door handle. “Yeah. My response is how dare you? How dare you participate in exploiting her, a colleague of yours, for some ratings?”

  “Come on, man,” one of them says. “We’re just doing our jobs. We didn’t ask to cover this.”

  “But you’re doing it anyway, and you don’t seem too broken up about it. Someday, one of you is going to be dealing with something similar with your girlfriend or daughter. You’ll understand how disturbing your inability to stand up for what’s right is then.”

  I climb in and drive away as quickly as possible.

  “They gave me a few days off,” she says.

  “Good,” I say, resting a hand on her thigh, our hands clasped. “You need some time for the dust to settle.”

  She sniffs and looks around. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to either of our apartments.”

  I grimace. “I was at my place for an hour, and three people knocked on my door to tell me what they think of the situation.”

  Her shoulders slump. “Are you kidding me?” She rubs her eyes.

  “I mean, all of them were nice and asking if there was anything they could do to help, but I think it’s better if we lay low.”

  “So where are we going then?”

  “Quincy’s.”

  She groans. “Ohgod. I can’t take Geni right now. Please tell me she’s not going to be there.”