by Alice Ward
I stared at her, trying to understand her motivation. “You’re just worried about protecting your precious job. Or is it Rhett that you’re protecting?”
I couldn’t figure out what her angle was. Her face flushed. She cleared her throat like she was nervous but didn’t argue or defend herself. Her dad was loaded, she didn’t need this job. So it had to be Rhett, but why? If she was messing with Rhett, why was she here with me? Was all this part of their media game? Was I a PR stunt?
“I’m protecting you,” she said finally.
“Me?” I scoffed. “I don’t need you to protect me. In fact, I don’t need anything from you.”
The look on her face made my stomach roll and my heart ache. That wasn’t true. I did need her. Or at least I thought I did. The words my sister had whispered in my ear after dinner — keep your heart open, little brother — burned my brain as they ricocheted from my skull. Yeah, keep it open, look what that gets you… played!
I watched as she rolled from the bed. Her body was tense, obviously sore from the rough handling during her attack. I suddenly felt that remorse, that guilt flood through me again. This was entirely my fault.
“Fine. I’ll call a cab,” she snorted as she dug through her bag of clothes.
“I’ll just call the airport and get flights. There’s no reason to stay here,” I said, exiting the room.
I played the conversation over and over in my head as I fumbled on my phone for the airport's number. That look she gave me, what was it? Fear? It was obvious she was lying, or at the very least hiding something. If it wasn’t Rhett, then what?
I knew better than to open my heart. This was why I should never let anyone in. Damn contracts should have a “don’t fall for a woman” clause because that pain was worse than any motorcycle accident.
Holding my head gripped in one hand, I hit the call button to the airport. The woman on the other end of the phone was chipper, too chipper for the mood I was in. “Two tickets to Daytona. No stops. First available.”
“I have two tickets left for this afternoon's flight. First class okay?” she asked.
“Perfect.”
“The only problem is the seats are not together, but I’m sure—” she started to say.
“Even better,” I snarled, and then read her my credit card information.
"Todd Morris, from the Beasts?” she asked when I said my name.
“One in the same.”
“I certainly hope you’re okay. I watched that video of the fight last night. And that poor girl, is she okay?” Her words shook me.
“The girl?” I asked.
“Yes. The one in the video being assaulted by those men. She must’ve been so scared before you saved her,” she continued.
“She’s fine. Thanks for asking.” I finished the transaction and disconnected the call.
That same twinge of guilt rolled through my veins again. Katrina didn’t know that she had been videoed. I could only hope they didn’t expose too much of her on the Internet.
She exited the bedroom, stood in the living room with her bags in hand. “I got two tickets this afternoon. I’ll call the driver, we’ll grab lunch, and head to the airport,” I said, feeling a bit softer toward her than earlier.
“Just take me to the airport. I’ll get lunch there,” she said irritably, but I could sense the exhaustion beneath the sharp words.
Okay then. The feeling of remorse disappeared.
I avoided eye contact with her as I moved past her to the bedroom. I gathered my clothes, made the call to the driver, and then took a quick look at myself in the mirror. I was hoping I didn’t look as bad as I felt. No such luck.
“Let’s go,” I said to her as I walked for my front door.
Teresa was handling the move with our mother, Marcus would have to be someone else’s problem until I got back, and I needed to focus on the game, training, and winning. If I wasn’t going to use Marcus to explain why I was in that part of town, it would be a lot of hard work to win back the fans that had their own ideas about my intentions.
I searched through my phone for the video of the fight as we rode to the airport. I watched Katrina scrolling through her tablet, probably doing the same thing. The video was short, luckily only catching the tail end of the fight, but the one with Katrina, that was a bit longer, and caught much more than the tail end. I turned to her, her face was pale, her knuckles white as she tightly gripped her device. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks as the driver pulled up to the airport drop-off.
I wanted to say something. I wanted to reach out and hug her, wipe away her tears, but before I could, she was already out of the car. She grabbed her bags, racing toward the entrance while I struggled to keep up. Airport security was crowded, and she wouldn’t look at me as we made our way through. The walk to our gate was short, leaving little time to have a heartfelt conversation. Maybe it was for the best. She had a lot to process. After the way I'd treated her, the things I'd said. It was best to cool it for a bit.
I grabbed a burger at the bar while Katrina snacked at the vending machine near our gate. I watched her on the hard, uncomfortable chairs, squirming to find a comfortable position as she fumbled with her Oreos and can of Sunkist orange soda. She was stubborn, that was for sure. But there was still something inside of me that said she was hiding something.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Katrina
I caught Todd peeking at me from his seat on the plane once or twice, but he never tried to speak. His facial expression wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm. I was confused, hurt, and even a little angry. Who the hell did he think he was?
Okay, so maybe I acted a little strange when he questioned me about the job, but it wasn’t about Rhett, not at all. It was about the fact my dad lost everything, and this job was the only thing I had to survive.
Maybe if I told him the truth, he’d understand. My heart ached at the thought of how loyal Todd was to his family. He was willing to take a fall, possibly lose fans, his position on the team, just to keep his brother’s name out of the media. Wasn’t that what I was doing now? It was my dad’s secret, my mother’s fear of their family’s image being ruined. None of this was my decision.
It didn’t matter. He was obviously not interested in talking. His nose was pushed into a magazine as the loud speaker announced we were ready to land in Daytona. As soon as the flight attendant said it was clear to unload, he was up and out of the plane. I followed a few feet behind him, realizing we were being collected by the same driver. This was silly. He was being ridiculous. I didn’t have time for this. I had way too much to handle, and without his cooperation, it was going to be extremely tough.
“Ladies first,” he said with a smirk as he held open the door to the black SUV.
I slid into the seat, avoided eye contact, and didn’t react to the sexy scent of his cologne that wafted under my nose. Damn, why did he have to smell so good?
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then paused as my heart fluttered, and my eyes began to well up with tears. That’s all I wanted to hear. That’s all I needed to hear. “Those assholes had no right to put that video of you on the Internet.”
My heart sank deep into my chest, so hard and so quick that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. “It’s okay,” I muttered.
This was my job, my life. I knew how to put a positive spin on anything, even this. I was sick to my stomach thinking about it but I could do this.
He reached across the leather seat, touching his hand to mine as the driver pulled up to the tall white condos. He didn’t speak. He didn’t apologize for the fight. I knew I’d have to come clean if I wanted to clear this up. I just couldn’t. Not yet.
Fuck! Lana stood at the front doors as I exited the vehicle. Her lips were tightly pursed together, her eyes narrowed and slanted with anger. Todd offered me a sympathetic smile as he walked past her and toward the elevators. Great, leave me to be sacrificed.
“I don’t even know what to say to you,” Lan
a scolded.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my eyes moving to the floor to watch my feet shuffle beneath me. I didn’t want to deal with her, not now, preferably not ever.
“How did you let this happen?” she snapped.
“Let this happen? Are you fucking serious right now?”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and for a moment there was an aroma of fear that surrounded her. That fear quickly dissipated when her bright white teeth snarled beneath her lips, and a strange darkness filled her eyes. “I think having an attitude with me right now is the last thing you want to do,” she hissed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been a long couple days,” I apologized.
I wanted to slap her across her freckled face, but I knew better. If I was willing to push Todd to exploit his brother for this job, I could take her screaming.
I walked toward the elevator with Lana right on my heels. Inside, she continued her ranting about the events that had occurred the night before. I was still sore, still embarrassed about the video of me plastered all over the Internet, the last thing I wanted was Lana in my face.
“One night, one fucking night I trust you with a team player, and you let him get his ass kicked in an alley?” she snarled.
“He didn’t get his ass kicked,” I snapped to his defense, not exactly knowing why.
“And you, what the fuck were you doing there with him? How are we supposed to clean up your mess?” She cursed under her breath, then continued her rant. “I knew Rhett hiring a spoiled little rich girl would do nothing but cause trouble. I still don’t understand how you got this job.” She slung her words at me like an ape slings feces at an enemy.
I was at my door. My key was in hand, and there was no way I was letting her push her way into my room. “Lana, like I said. I’ve had a long fucking couple of days. I’ll clean up the mess, even the one where I was almost fucking raped and videoed for the whole world to see. But right now, you need to leave me the fuck alone.” I slid my key into the door, opened it, went inside, slammed my door, and didn’t even look back to see the horrified look I knew was plastered on her face.
My phone rang as soon as I set my bags down. What now?
Rhett’s number scrolled across my screen. Great, round two of the ass reaming. Just what I needed.
“Yes, Rhett,” I answered with the most professional tone I could muster up at the moment.
“Have you landed safely?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
His calmness surprised me. “Yes.”
“Where did you get with Todd on the brother angle?”
Shit, I really didn’t want to deliver the bad news.
“He’s unwilling to exploit his brother,” I said calmly.
I waited during the pause, expecting to be screamed at, or worse, fired for my incompetence. “Well, I guess that’s noble. Did you explain how the fans could perceive this fight?” he asked.
“Yes, but the video of me shows him as a hero rescuing me from the thugs. I think that’s the angle we should take.” I hated the words as soon as I spoke them, but it would be the best spin. Instead of burying the video like I first planned, I’d push it into the limelight and exploit myself to save Todd. To save my career.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s the only way.”
“Okay. That’s great. I mean, it’s not great what happened to you, but it’s great it can be used for some good.” He stumbled over his words as he tried desperately not to sound so fucking excited about my misery. It’s just business, and Rhett Hamilton was a savvy businessman. Of course, he was excited to hear I had a solution, even if it was at my own personal expense.
“Are you doing okay? Do you need any time off to recover?” he asked kindly.
“No, sir. I’m fine.”
There was no way in hell I was going to show weakness even though I wanted to crawl into bed for a week and let this all go away.
“Well, why don’t you come up with some positives to post, no matter who the player might be. And, if you’re ready, start back on those interviews.”
“Yes, sir.”
I held my phone tightly in my hand as I watched the men pulling on my arms, my pants, and my shirt. My skin crawled at the memory. A deep sigh escaped my chest as I shared the video with the team page. My caption deemed Todd Morris a hero, in the wrong place, but at just the right time.
My eyes were heavy as I made it to the next morning's practice. The entire night was spent working on interview notes, replying to messages and posts on the site about the video, and the incident. Even with the hero portrayal, many of the fans were calling Morris an adrenaline junkie, saying he was out looking for trouble. It would be tougher than I thought to clear his history and the taste he’d left in many Mets fans' mouths when he was traded to the Beasts.
Every time I worked up enough nerve to say something to Todd, I found myself running in the opposite direction. I couldn’t tell him about my family, about my dad. That wasn’t my secret. Just like he protected his brother from the limelight, I’d protect my family. If he couldn’t trust me, then so be it. I had a job to do, and no matter how delicious his lips were, how hard his body, and how good he made me feel, I was going to do that job.
“Blake,” I called out as the guys left the field.
He turned toward me, smiled, and walked in my direction. “What can I do for ya, sunshine?” he asked.
I loved his southern drawl, his warmth, and the name sunshine took me back to the days when I was just a kid watching my daddy play. “I haven’t heard that in years,” I said softly.
“Pink cotton candy, nachos without cheese, and loaded hot dogs," he laughed.
“Yeah, I was a picky kid,” I agreed.
Something about being around him made me feel safe. He'd always helped to look after me when I spent long days at the stadium. I wasn’t sure why I’d been so reluctant to conduct his interview. “Do you care if I ask you some questions?”
“Oh, it’s my turn?” he asked, his tone sounding a little disappointed. I felt a twinge of guilt for not speaking to him sooner.
I nodded, offered up my warmest smile, and motioned him to the seat next to me. “How’s your old man doing these days?” he asked. And there it was, the reason I didn’t want to talk to him.
“He’s great,” I lied.
“Man, I remember those days like they were yesterday. You were so small, just a little thing,” he said with a laugh, his hand held to his hip reflecting my height, or lack thereof. “He could hit that ball so high into the sky it felt as though it’d make it to outer space.”
The look in his eyes warmed when he spoke of my dad. My heart ached for that man, the one he spoke of. I missed him.
“Everyone loved Spaceman.” He said it like Dad was gone.
“They still do,” I chimed in with a smile.
He seemed to snap out of his dreamlike state of reflection, turning his eyes to mine. “Yes, that they do.”
“What have you been up to since I’ve seen you last? Besides baseball?” I moved to my first question.
“I’ve just been raising my son,” he said cheerfully.
A son? I didn’t know Blake Osborne was a father.
“Man oh man, that’s one helluva story,” he said, falling back into his reflective state.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me?”
His eyes narrowed on me, his lips tightened. I watched his smile fighting to be displayed, and his head shake back and forth as if he were struggling with what to do. “Well, you’re an adult now. You know your dad was a wild man, right?”
I knew my dad was a hothead at times, but a wild man?
“We’d just beaten San Diego and were heading to the playoffs.”
I shifted in my seat, unsure if I was ready to hear about my dad being a wild man. “Is this something a daughter should hear?” I asked, half chuckling.
“Oh hell, your daddy was a good man. Wild at times,
but always good.”
Relief rushed over me like a warm blanket as he continued to tell his story.
“He wanted to hit the strip clubs, ya know, have a little fun,” he said with a wink.
Oh God, maybe this wasn’t something I wanted or needed to hear.
“There was this stripper, Jasmine. Her skin was dark and smooth like milk chocolate, and her eyes so bright they lit up the stage.”
Blake’s eyes turned to little slits as he spoke. It was like he was trying to picture her as he sat there next to me. “Your dad, now he told me to steer clear.” He laughed. “Hell, I was too young and too dumb to listen.”
“All the guys took off, leaving me there at the club where I decided to wait for Jasmine’s shift to end. Your dad waited with me, trying his best to talk me outta the hookup.”
“Why did he care what you did?” I asked.
“He cared about everyone. There was something he saw in the girl that I didn’t, I couldn’t. I didn’t listen. In hindsight, I guess I should’ve.”
“Weren’t you married?” I asked, remembering a blonde woman who used to come to the games at times. She was sweet, always offering me snacks from her oversized bag.
He blushed and his eyes widened, the guilt obvious on his face. This wasn’t exactly the type of stuff I needed to make him look good with the fans. “Tell me about your son,” I said, trying desperately to change the topic from strippers, cheating husbands, and whatever else he had hidden in the story he was trying to unravel.
“Well, that’s what I’m gettin’ at,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t listen to Spaceman. I hooked up with that girl, and don’t get me wrong, I loved every second of it. But afterward, I felt like an ass. I couldn’t even face my wife.”
I opened my mouth to say something but had no idea what that something should be.
He continued, “I wanted to tell her, but your dad warned me that she’d never forgive me, and to tuck it away, pretend it never happened, and never do anything like that again. Everything you do, it always comes back to bite ya in the ass. That’s what your old man said, what he always said.” He chuckled.