“Ben won’t let you fire me,” Kacee shot back.
“Really? The last time I checked, you work for me, and you haven’t been working for me for several days now. Again, Kacee: If you don’t want the job, quit. If you’re not here in an hour, consider yourself fired.”
Cameron stalked downstairs. Her day hadn’t even started yet, and she wondered if it was too late to crawl back into bed. She knew Zach had spent the night at his house. He was probably in the weight room by now. She wondered what he’d thought of last night’s show. She wasn’t especially happy with some of the footage PSN featured. She hated having her private life exploited for ratings, and according to some of the texts she’d seen on her phone before she fell asleep, ratings were through the roof. In other words, it was about to get worse.
Ben was probably delirious with happiness over the sky-high ratings and resulting advertising sales. She’d be a lot happier if he’d stop stealing her assistant.
Speaking of ratings, she was going to have to get some additional interviews and some film for tonight’s taping of NFL Confidential. Logan covered Drew and Derrick’s pre-practice workout yesterday, and they talked some of the other guys on their floor into taping a funny segment showing off their dorm rooms. She could hear the guys cleaning yesterday before Logan arrived with his camera.
A couple of dark-haired, tall guys in suits with earpieces met her as she stepped off the elevator. They did their best to blend into the woodwork but never took their eyes off her. She beckoned them over.
“I need to go outside to do some work.”
“We’ll follow you, then.” The guy she thought of as Earphone One nodded at his colleague.
“Do I need to tell you where I’m going?” She wasn’t even sure what to say. She didn’t want anyone to think she was ungrateful, but she wished—again—she didn’t have to be trailed by security everywhere she went.
“Go about your business,” Earphone One said. “Don’t worry about us.” His partner nodded.
Cameron walked out to the practice field. The Sharks had resumed their public practices a couple of days ago, but the team had instituted the same rules the NFL put in place for game day—no handbags, no backpacks, nothing brought onto the grounds that wouldn’t fit in a gallon-sized clear plastic bag. The fans wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so.
She introduced herself to a couple of the rookies doing a little stretching out on the field after their lifting. The two guys stopped what they were doing and got to their feet.
“How’s your day?” she asked, trying to get the conversation going.
An offensive guard several inches taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than she was gave her a nod. “Happy to be here, Ms. Ondine,” he said with the thickest Southern accent she’d ever heard. His teammate seemed to be struck dumb by her presence; he stared and said nothing.
“Please, call me Cameron,” she said.
“Mah mama would smack my hide,” he said. “She told me to treat you like I treat her.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Caleb, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
She knew he’d attended a tiny school in Louisiana that wasn’t known for offensive linemen. He was so talented scouts were beating a path to his door by the time he was a junior in high school. He didn’t take the four-year scholarship at a bigger school because he didn’t want to leave his mother after Caleb’s younger brother died at seventeen in a drive-by shooting. When he was asked at the Combine what he wanted most in life, he said he wanted to buy his mother a house so she’d never worry about being homeless again.
Caleb was every bit as humble and polite as she’d been told by more than one of her colleagues. She was really looking forward to featuring him during her training camp coverage. It was a pleasure to talk with someone who deserved every bit of success that came his way.
“What do you think of training camp so far?” She grabbed the stylus for her iPad and pulled up the note-taking app. “What has surprised you most?”
She saw his shy smile. “The weather. It’s the beginning of August, and this would be cold back home.”
She glanced up to see the sun peeking through the formerly leaden skies. This was a well-known phenomenon in Seattle called a “sunbreak.” For anyone used to summertime in the South, though, they’d be looking for a sweater in the mid-sixty degree day.
She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Her father and a guy she’d met once before were striding across the field. Her dad didn’t look happy, to put it mildly. To her amazement, Caleb stepped between her and her obviously irritated parent.
She tugged on the sleeve of his jersey. “Caleb. That’s my dad. It’s okay.”
“I don’t recognize him. You stay behind me, ma’am.” She saw Caleb square his shoulders, fold his arms across his chest, and spread his legs slightly in a power stance.
“May I help you?” Caleb called out.
“You can get away from my daughter,” her father demanded.
The guys with the earpieces were quick to surround her, too. “Freeze,” one of them called out to him.
“Guys. Guys. It’s my dad.”
“He was told nobody but team personnel, media, and security are allowed on the field without an escort during non-practice hours,” Earphone One told her. He addressed her father. “I don’t appreciate this. Who’s your guest?”
“Do you know who I am?” her father said. Cameron stifled a groan. Her dad’s life motto seemed to be “when in doubt, threaten people and act like a jerk.” Sure enough, he narrowed his eyes and glared at Caleb. “I could end your NFL career on the spot.” He curled his lip at Earphones One and Two. “I could also have you fired immediately.”
The guy standing next to her dad might be handsome if he wiped the superior smirk off his face.
Cameron couldn’t see the expression on Caleb’s face, but she could see Earphones One and Two. They didn’t look happy.
“You can threaten us all you’d like, sir, but the front office put these rules into place for a reason. Ms. Ondine will meet with you inside the building at her convenience.”
Another security guard stepped into Cameron’s line of vision. “Let’s go,” the guy said to her dad.
Her father glared at her. “We’ll be talking about this shortly.”
“I’m sure we will,” she said. She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.
Her father and his guest walked away, accompanied by the security guard. She patted Caleb’s arm when they were out of earshot.
“Thanks for protecting me.”
“Any time, ma’am. You let me know if you need any more help.”
“Would you like to do a little interview today when you’re finished with practice and meetings? I’ll ask you a few questions about training camp. It’ll be fun.” She scribbled “Ask Caleb about his roommate” on her iPad. All rookies had a training camp roommate. She already knew Caleb’s roommate was a bit of a handful.
She saw him smile again. “I’d love to. Thank you for asking.”
Cameron walked inside the practice facility to write up a few more notes and organize the rest of her to-do list for the day. She had to go talk to her father, which she wasn’t looking forward to. The longer she put it off, however, the worse it would be for Joanna. She was more worried about inconveniencing Joanna than making her father angrier.
Cameron and her father weren’t close. He was incensed about her career choice, and he’d made that plain on a number of occasions. She’d noted his increasingly irritated phone calls about last week’s confrontation outside the facility, but she hadn’t called him back. She knew it would be nothing but another long argument, and she was tired of dealing with it. It was time to pay the piper, however. She shoved the door open to walk into the lobby and came to a halt, partially hidden behind a large trophy case full of Sharks memorabilia.
Zach and her father were glaring at each other about twenty feet away. The guy standing with her father was regarding Zach like som
ething he’d scraped off his dress shoes.
“I’d say it’s good to see you, Anderson, but that would be a lie,” her father said.
“I’d have to say the same.” Zach didn’t smile. He gave her father a nod. He glanced at the guy with him. “Who’s this?”
The guy didn’t extend his hand, and neither did Zach.
“I’m Eugene Redmond,” the guy said. “And you are?”
Eugene worked at her dad’s hedge fund. He was introduced to her at the company holiday party last December. Her parents had been badgering her to go out with him ever since. She was fairly sure other women would enjoy his company, but she’d rather jam her hand into a blender and hit “frappe.”
He was tall, handsome, and had plenty of money. He was also shallow, a social climber, and really impressed with himself. In other words, she’d rather stay home alone with Netflix and the only snack she allowed herself these days—a big bowl of steamed edamame.
Truthfully, she’d rather stay home with Zach. He looked like a guy who would appreciate a big bowl of popcorn and a movie. They could think of many other things to do at home alone as well. Cameron snapped out of her memories of what an evening alone with Zach had meant a few years ago and realized Zach had taken a step toward Eugene. Eugene stepped back in response.
“I’m Zach Anderson. You and your friend should go back where you came from.”
“My daughter has been avoiding her family responsibilities long enough. We expect her to do something more important in life, something that utilizes her education. She’s quitting her job today and coming home with us,” her father snapped.
Zach looked incredulous. “I used to think guys like you only existed in bad action-adventure movies.” He glanced over at Eugene. “What’s in this for you?”
Cameron’s father stared at him. Eugene’s mouth opened and shut. He must have thought better of saying anything at all to a guy big enough to break him in half.
She’d heard enough. She stepped out from behind the trophy case and walked toward her father.
“Maybe we should find somewhere more private to have this conversation,” Cameron said.
“There won’t be a conversation. Go pack your things. You’re quitting your job today. We’ll be on our way home as quickly as we can get to the airport.”
Joanna was trying to pretend like she wasn’t observing all of it. Zach’s fingertips brushed the small of Cameron’s back. It was comforting that Zach was sticking around for her right now, but she couldn’t rely on him to deal with the situation. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She could take care of herself. At the same time, the fact he stayed was very sweet.
“I’m not leaving, Dad. I love my job, and I’m keeping it.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed even further. “Your mother is terrified. Your sister is embarrassed. Haven’t you taken this far enough?”
“I’m sorry they’re not happy, but I’m not changing my mind.” She gave the same nod to Eugene he’d given to Zach. “Flying to the West Coast? You must have missed your tee time.”
“If you’re choosing him over me, I’m not sure I’d want to date you in the first place,” Eugene said.
She almost laughed out loud. What an ass.
“I’m fairly sure she didn’t want to date you at all, Redmond,” Zach said. “That hedge fund VP job must not be pulling the ladies like it used to.”
Cameron wasn’t even going to ask how he knew what Eugene’s job title was. In the meantime, her father was flushed, his lips were pressed together so hard they were white, and his eyes were barely slits. “You should have learned last time, Anderson. I protect what’s mine.”
“Are you threatening me in front of witnesses?” Zach looked like he was discussing the weather. “I’m not the same naïve college kid you went after then. I protect what’s mine, too.”
“I should have finished you and your family before. It’ll be much more enjoyable now.”
“Leave Zach and his family out of this,” she snapped.
Neither man moved. Cameron still felt Zach’s fingers on her lower back. She let out a sigh.
“What a treat that you stopped by, Dad.” She couldn’t keep the fury out of her voice. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help, and you need to go back to New York. Goodbye.”
Her father wasn’t there to protect her. He was all about appearances—the perfect, socially prominent family. He wanted her to marry someone he could control, too, which was the reason for Eugene’s trip to Seattle. Her father’s concern didn’t extend to Cameron’s happiness, and it never would. Her mother bought into her father’s manipulations, too. She was done appeasing him, because it would never end.
She turned away from him and took a few steps. She heard her father’s voice again.
“This discussion isn’t over.”
She whirled to face him. “Yes, it is. I’m over twenty-one. I have a job, and I have my own money. Go back home.”
ZACH WATCHED CAMERON’S father and his guest stalk out of the building to their waiting limo without another word. Preston Ondine must have been late for his next dastardly act. All he needed was a mustache to twirl, and some helpless woman to tie to the railroad tracks. Cameron must have retreated to her room for a little while to regroup.
He’d had no idea that Cameron’s relationship with her family was so strained. He knew there was trouble. She’d mentioned that her parents were mad at her for not wanting to be involved in their various pursuits ten years ago, and he was fairly sure he was the only person in her life that encouraged her to follow her dreams of being a sports reporter. She’d also told him the other night that her father had been after her to quit her job since she got it.
Most parents would be proud of a daughter who worked her way up from a minimum-wage runner to a prominent on-air job in ten years at a hugely popular cable sports network. He realized she’d never had the money challenges he did, but she worked every bit as hard. She had fire in her belly. There was no amount of money that could purchase ambition and determination.
He gave Joanna a wave. She grinned back at him. “You’re a good man, Zach Anderson,” she called out.
“Thanks. You’re pretty great yourself,” he responded.
He exited the lobby and paused in the hallway outside of the weight room. He pulled his phone out of his warm-ups pocket, and dialed a number.
“Shelby Anderson, please,” he said to the person answering the phone.
CAMERON’S PHONE RANG less than five minutes later. She glanced at the screen, saw it was her mother, and hit the button to send the call to voicemail. The phone rang again a few minutes later. Her sister. She sent her to voicemail, too.
She had to focus on work right now, but she wanted to talk to Zach. She glanced out a window that faced the practice field. She could hear the sounds of Sharks fans filing in to sit on the grassy hill overlooking the field, and the DJ the Sharks used to pump up the crowd. She grabbed her phone again, hit the text app and his number, and typed in THANK YOU. I OWE YOU. It wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever said, but it was true.
She’d taped the latest episode of NFL Confidential last night. She needed to do a couple of voice-overs before the episode was complete, and she should interview a few more players today. She hit the button to read the texts that had come in over the past hour. Ben wanted her to know that the Sharks’ head coach gave the okay to start filming Third and Long again. She was a bit surprised Kacee hadn’t enlisted him to demand Cameron not fire her, but maybe that was coming later.
She knew next week’s filming would be dominated by the cuts that would be happening shortly after the Sharks’ first pre-season game, and teasing additional cuts after the second game. Hopefully the interest in her and Zach’s “storyline” would wane as a result. In the meantime, she had a list of players she was already building stories around.
The kicker and the punter were practicing at the far end of the field with a portable upright, one of the long-snappe
r candidates, and an assistant coach. Most football fans didn’t give a lot of thought to kickers and punters unless a game was won or lost because of them. She made another mental note: Talk to those guys about an interview.
She heard her phone chirp with an incoming text. She grabbed it out of her pocket.
MEET ME IN THE LOBBY AT 7 TONIGHT. ALSO, YOU’RE WELCOME. ZACH
She resisted the impulse to twirl around with sheer happiness. She couldn’t wait to spend some time with him again.
Chapter Eighteen
* * *
ZACH HEARD THE final double-blast whistle as he watched Derrick knock the rookie tackle on his ass again. Practice was over for the day. Derrick offered his hand to the kid to help him up.
“C’mon. Let’s go get some water.”
“I’ll be knocking you on your ass soon,” the kid told him.
Derrick let out a laugh and slapped the kid on the back. “No, you won’t.”
The kid nodded to the fans crowding the fence. “I’m at the autograph table today.” The autograph table was typically populated with rookies that spent an hour signing pint-sized footballs for the kids attending training camp practices.
“Have fun with that,” Zach told him.
Zach was going to spend the next hour or so signing his name hundreds of times, too. The fans that lined up at the fence that ringed the practice field were thrilled and sometimes a bit nervous to spend even thirty seconds conversing with a Shark. He got a kick out of most of them. He made a special point of signing for the kids that snuck away from the table to talk with a vet. He’d encourage conversation with the adults, if they were courteous and friendly.
Most football fans would be amazed to know how many people would sit through a practice and wait in line for half an hour to tell you they were still pissed off over a play that went wrong last season, or that you’d screwed something up in a game in college. He kept thinking he’d get used to it eventually, but it was always a shock to have some sweet-looking little old lady demanding to know why he failed to knock Adrian Peterson into the middle of next year.
Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel Page 18