by Paige North
“Not just the Harrisons— the entire alumni board. We’ll invite some notable players, their families, just a nice little show of support for Gabe. To show that Harton isn’t a place where you run from your past— it’s a place where you invite your past for dinner and drinks. It’s a place you can start over.”
“Fine,” he says. “Fine, whatever. I’ll transfer you to my assistant— but tell Buck that he can forget coming to Cabo.”
“Sure thing,” I say with a smile, and hang up.
The great thing about throwing a party on someone else’s dime is…well. Everything. I order the best food and wine that I can find and make sure invitations go out to all the heavy hitters when it comes to Harton football.
The school president is invited, as are most of the deans, all the wealthy alumni, and some of the school’s most famous former players— Jacob Everett and his wife, Sasha, fly into town special for the occasion, which makes the local news. My parents will be there, of course, since they think the Harrisons are throwing the party, and the Harrisons will be there since they think it’s Steve Wright’s party. The school paper is calling the whole thing “damage control”— they think that everyone is trying to appear united now that Gabe Forest’s presence has made the school look bad.
They have no idea.
“The coaches have my back,” Gabe tells me as we’re getting ready in his dorm room. “So there’s that. But they’re afraid I’m going to be a bigger distraction than I’m worth on the field. I think they’re going to ask me to take the game on Saturday off.”
“Are you going to? Without putting up a fight, I mean,” I ask, leaning close to the mirror to touch up my mascara. Thank god for good concealer— party planning basically means you never sleep, I realized over the past week.
“If they ask. I owe it to them, after all the trouble,” he says, standing behind me, looking pleased with the view he has of me bending over. He’s as worn out as I am, but we’re nearly through with the whole thing now. We just need to make it through the party tonight. Gabe walks forward and places his hands gently on my ass cheeks, rubbing his thumbs against my skin, causing the silk skirt of my cocktail dress to rise up.
“Don’t tear it,” I tease him.
“Not until tonight, anyhow,” he says in response, then pops me on the ass. He looks up at himself in the mirror. He’s wearing a suit, and a crisp white shirt that hugs his huge shoulders.
“You look perfect,” I tell him, turning around. I lift myself up onto the bathroom counter, and he smiles, then pushes my knees apart so he can press right up against me. I tilt my head back; he lowers his and kisses me hard enough that I’m glad I haven’t put on lipstick yet.
“For a thug in a cheap suit?” he asks, his words a whisper into my mouth.
“For my boyfriend,” I answer playfully.
Gabe faux-cringes. “Oh, I don’t know about labels—“ I slap him across the chest and he laughs, then pushes forward into me in a way that makes me wish I hadn’t put on clothes yet, either. “We have ten minutes…” Gabe murmurs.
“As if we’ve ever finished in ten minutes,” I answer. Gabe makes a face, then slides his hands between my legs. He rubs at my clit for a few moments until I give in and moan, then he steps away, looking pleased at his torturous act. I whine and give him a frustrated look.
“Tonight. That dress is coming off in pieces,” he says huskily.
I bite my lip in excitement, then turn back and touch up my lipstick. “Then let’s go, so we can get back,” I say.
We walk out of the dorms arm-in arm, smiling at the concierge, at the scattering of people hanging around the front door— students, mostly, since the press has already gotten enough photos of Gabe to fill papers and websites for ages (usually with some clever version of HARTON DOES HARD TIME as the headline).
I see a few photos get taken, but that’s good— the more people see us, the better. We get into Gabe’s car, which I had freshly washed and waxed for the occasion, and within moments, we’re rolling up to the alumni house in Ansley Park.
“Wow,” Gabe says, looking up at the house. The alumni house always looks great, but for the occasion, I had it decked out with Harton green decorations. Give the fact that so many notable alumni are here, and the fact that it looks like they’re trying to cover for Gabe by throwing a party, some members of the local press are flittering around, most of them pretty girls with stylish dresses and an ultra-quick draw on their camera phones.
“Thank the Harrisons,” I answer with a sly smile, and he laughs, then hands the car keys off to the valet. I link my arm in his. My hand doesn’t even cover the broad part of his forearm, and even with high heels on, I barely come up to Gabe’s chest, but that just makes me feel even more protected in his presence.
Heads turn as we make our way up the driveway, and I hear Gabe’s name whispered, then a few moments later, start to hear my name being whispered as well. We head toward the backyard, and Gabe and I exchange a secretive smile when we see the shower we were together in not so long ago.
Focus, I remind myself. Keep your head in the game.
“Gabe! Hey, man, we’ve never met,” a bright but deep voice says. It’s Jacob Everett— I know him by his photo and his legacy. He’s gorgeous and tall, muscular just like Gabe is. On his arm is a pretty girl a few years older than me who’s wearing a designer cobalt blue dress and a diamond ring big enough to kill a man.
“Jacob Everett,” Gabe says, nodding. “Pleasure’s all mine. This is my girlfriend, Lucy Shaw.”
“I’m Senator Shaw’s daughter,” I add as I reach forward to shake Jacob’s hand and be introduced to his wife, Sasha. It’s important to the plan that everyone, everyone here gets that line in their head: Gabe Forest is dating Lucy Shaw, Senator Shaw’s daughter.
“A senator’s daughter? Wow. Well, Gabe, I heard about the story— juvie and all that,” Jacob says.
“Nice opening line, honey,” his wife says, elbowing him.
“What? Might as well get to the point,” Jacob answers, though he kisses her swiftly on the head. “Don’t let that get to you. Your job is to play the game, and you and Finn Thorne are one hell of a team.”
“Thanks,” Gabe says, nodding, looking genuinely pleased. “Thanks a lot, actually. I appreciate that.”
Jacob leans in a little; I see the flashes from a dozen cameras go off for the photo op of two Harton legends together, and make sure my posture looks photo-perfect. Jacob says, under his breath, “But no more fights on the field, brother. I want you in the NFL with me someday, got it?”
“Doing my best,” Gabe says.
Jacob nods, like he understands completely. “Well— don’t want to hold you up. I know there are a lot of people here eager to talk to you.”
Jacob walks away, and the crowd gawking at the interaction quickly pretends they weren’t up to anything at all. We get drinks, trying to act casual— I’m trying to act like I didn’t plan everything about this down to the shape of the ice cubes, actually. It isn’t long before I spot my parents. They’re in a corner of the yard, talking to a man I don’t know. My father looks Senator-fabulous in his custom suite, and my mother is wearing yellow, which she considers her lucky color.
My mother sees me first, and I see a lifetime’s worth of emotion flash across her face. Excitement that I’m there, hurt when she remember the incident at the Harrisons’, and finally anger when she sees whose arm I’m on. She nudges my father and nods my way; he skips straight to anger. They start toward us.
“Well, here we go,” I say to Gabe. He’d been in conversation with another former player; he excuses himself and catches my eye with a look that says Let’s do this.
“Lucy,” my mother says stiffly, hugging me with all the warmth of a piece of cardboard.
“Hey, Dad,” I say as kindly as possible. Honestly, I wish I could hug him too— but all he said to me at the Harrisons is still too heavy in my mind to do so. He smiles at me uncomfortably, and I can tell he
feels similarly.
“What are you doing here?” my mother asks.
“We were invited,” Gabe says, voice growling. “Surprised?”
Neither of my parents answers, but they give one another a confused look. “Yes, and had I realized this wasn’t a party to rehab the team’s image, but yours, I may have rescinded my invitation,” my father finally says shortly.
“My image doesn’t need rehabbing. Everyone knows exactly who I am. You’re the one who pretends to be something he’s not,” Gabe says fiercely. My father tenses, but I can tell this is all bluster on Gabe’s part— there’s no heat in his arm, no fire leaping from his eyes. My father looks at me, like he expects me to say something in my family’s defense, but I just smile.
“Well, I’ll be sure to let the Harrisons know how you treat their guests, when they do you the favor of throwing a party lovely as this,” my mother says shrilly.
“It is lovely, isn’t it?” I say, looking around, beaming.
My mother makes a face at my words, and then she and my father stride away, no doubt looking for the Harrisons. Which is just as well— we need to see them next. Finn Thorne and his girlfriend arrive; he and Gabe talk and pose for a few photos together. Camera phones are still out when Buck Harrison comes out of the house, Chandler just behind him. Buck is smiling, but it’s terse and forced. Chandler isn’t even trying to fake a smile, content to shoot daggers at me and Gabe. I lean my head against Gabe’s shoulder affectionately just to frustrate Chandler further.
“Mr. Forest, Miss Shaw,” Buck says, his too-pale eyes shining with irritation. “Lucy, your parents just asked me why I had invited Gabe Forest to my party. This was a surprise to me, since this is not my party, despite the fact that most everyone appears to think it is. Including Mr. Wright, whose assistant just told me that my ‘new girl in PR, Lucy’, called and arranged the whole thing on my behalf.” He’s speaking in a hushed voice, trying to keep the conversation between us as best he can.
“What a mix-up!” I say. “The food is great though.”
Gabe nods. “Give this Lucy girl a raise, Mr. Harrison.”
Chandler breaks in, a sneer across his face. “Shut the fuck up, Forest. Just because Lucy is stupid enough to fall for your alpha male act doesn’t mean anyone else is. Look at you. Cheap suit, cheap cologne, cheap haircut.” He lowers his voice, and there’s a gleam of cruelty in his eyes. “What, your dad wouldn’t pay for a suit and your spot on this team?”
Gabe smiles, but I can feel anger flashing through him, can see his shoulders lift and harden. “It’s okay, Chandler. I understand why you’re mad. Money can buy you cars and suits, but you still have to lie about getting laid by a girl as good as this one. Who, might I add, really likes an alpha male in bed.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing at the look on Chandler’s face.
Buck, on the other hand, looks aghast at the whole exchange. Chandler’s face turns red in anger and embarrassment. Behind him, I see my parents emerging from the house’s back doors. Heads are turning our way, the people who’d been taking photos of Finn and Gabe together are lifting their phones again. I know why: They can see the veins protruding on Gabe’s forehead, they see the change in his stance. They’re football fans, and they know what all this means: Gabe Forest is about to get into a fight. They want it on camera. My eyes widen and I take a long, steadying breath, then step between Gabe and Chandler.
“Gabe, it’s fine. He’s just an idiot,” I say gently, and try to push Gabe backward, still looking over my shoulder at Chandler.
“He’s an idiot who told lies about you to make himself look better. Who thinks guys like me and my team are beneath him,” Gabe argues, voice rising. “He’s trash in tailored clothes.”
A rustle goes through the crowd, and I see eyes turn to Chandler, everyone waiting to see how he’ll respond. Chandler swallows and gives me a hard, furious look. He’s about to snap, I know.
“Lucy,” Chandler says, and I still, because for a second, it sounds like he’s going to say something kind. Profess love for me, or say he’s worried about me, or tell me to have a nice night. But then he says, “I hope you know that no one decent is going to want you now, knowing you let this animal have you.”
There’s an explosion of movement; I’m moved to the side, Gabe is rushing forward, Chandler is taking the first step to run away but it’s no use, Gabe’s fist raised, the crack of it making contact with Chandler’s face, Chandler falling backward, shouting and yelling and curse words. I stumble in the fray, and when I’m back on my feet I see Jacob Everett and Finn Thorne have run over and taken hold of Gabe’s arms, hauling him off Chandler. Chandler is writhing on the ground like he’s been shot, while his father and a handful of others help him to his feet.
Only a handful of them, though— because most everyone else is smiling in a smug, satisfied way. They heard what he said just before Gabe struck him, and given the fact that plenty of phones are lifted, I’d say they got it on video too.
Gabe’s eyes are gleaming, his lips drawn back in a scowl. Buck Harrison is shouting about calling the police— Gabe is definitely going to get arrested again, I realize.
Someone’s at my arm now— it’s Sasha, Jacob’s wife, and she’s hurrying me into the house, away from the shouting and chaos.
“It’ll be fine,” she says, tucking her head toward me. “Jacob and Finn have him. Though I kind of wish they didn’t. That Chandler guy is a real dick.”
“You’re telling me,” I say, voice shaking. Is this really happening? “Are they really calling the police?”
Sasha grimaces at me as we enter the house and hurry upstairs, toward one of the bedrooms that’s likely more private. I can still hear shouting outside, Buck Harrison’s thick Southern accent cursing Gabe’s name, and Gabe’s deep, throaty voice launching just as many curses right back. “Probably,” Sasha answers. “I think I saw Mrs. Harrison dialing.” Right around that time, I hear sirens. Yep. The police are coming. “Oh. Wow, I’m sorry, Lucy. I’ll tell them that Chandler totally deserved it. And I know Jacob and Finn will too.”
“Thanks.” I sigh, then walk to the window, pushing aside the silk curtains to look down on the backyard. Jacob and Finn still have their hands on Gabe’s arms, but they aren’t having to hold him back with quite so much force now. Chandler, it appears, has been moved inside to tend to his wounds. “But actually, could you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” she says, smiling at me.
“Can you drive me to the police station? I’ll need to bail him out.”
“Sure,” she says. “We can probably sneak out the side entrance—”
“No, no,” I say, firming my jaw. “I need everyone to see me leaving.”
Chapter 17
No matter how made my parents are at me, there’s no way they’re letting me go to the county jail to bail Gabe out without a fight. Senator’s daughters don’t just show up to save their arrested boyfriends, after all.
Sasha and I move quick, though, darting through the house as I ask aloud how much she thinks bail money will cost. The police are downstairs, trying to calm down a still-furious Mr. Harrison, and Gabe is already loaded in the backseat of the car. I see Chandler briefly as we hurry out; he’s got a solid black eye and a busted lip, but looks otherwise unscathed. Pity.
Sasha and I follow the police car when it pulls out as best we can, listening to Harton’s radio station. We’re not even five minutes into the drive before the host breaks into classical music hour to explain that Gabe Forest, Harton’s scandal-plagued tight end, has been arrested for fighting Chandler Harrison, son of local businessman Buck Harrison, at a Harton-alumni event.
Sasha looks scared, but I keep my eye on the cop car. Stay focused. Stay calm. Gabe didn’t do anything wrong. He was perfect.
There’s a small crowd of press at the police station by the time we arrive, mostly students or local bloggers. We wait for a bit while Gabe is escorted in; while doing so a handful of
other cars pull into the lot. In one is Jacob Everett, Finn Thorne, and Finn’s girlfriend; in another, my parents; in the last few, reporters from the local paper. A sports news network van rolls up shortly after.
“Do you want me to go in for you?” Sasha asks as the crowd mills around. I see my parents gathering their things, my mother checking her makeup in the car’s mirror—
“No, thanks. I’ve got this,” I say, then give her a reassuring smile that she clearly doesn’t know how to react to— because she gasps, audibly, when I push her car door open and sprint toward the police station door.
“Lucy! Lucy Shaw! You’re the girl Gabe is dating, right?” someone shouts. It isn’t long before the rest of the crowd turns toward me, circling me in phones and cameras and wide, eager eyes.
“Lucy!” I hear my father bellow from the outside of the circle.
“I’m here, Dad!” I call out. He pushes through the crowd and makes his way toward me; I can see in his eyes that he’s already calculating the number of cameras, the number of people who will see this video, the number of people who won’t vote for him if we get in a fight in front of everyone. They’re all big numbers.
Which is exactly what Gabe and I counted on when we planned this whole thing.
I lied when I was talking to Gabe’s dad— when I said that amid a PR disaster, there are only two solutions: Release something better, or release something way worse. The truth is, there’s a third solution: Do both. Gabe appearing at an event with loads of Harton notables, alumni, and donors? Better. Gabe getting arrested for fighting? Worse. Doing both gives us the chance not to fix his image, but rather, to redefine it.
This is who he is, I remind myself, then give the cameras a shaky smile.
“Sorry, everyone, I’m just— this is overwhelming,” I say, looking around at everyone.
“Is it true Gabe got in a fight with Buck Harrison’s son? Has he ever displayed violence like that toward you? Do you feel safe, Lucy?” people ask— or maybe it’s just one person? I can’t tell the faces and eyes and voices apart as the crowd presses in, pinning my father and I to one another. My father puts his hands on my shoulders, and cameras flash at the photo op. I hear him take a breath and know he’s about to speak, so I jump in, lifting my chin and speaking in a clear, if slightly wobbly voice.