AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Except when we make it into the box, Bree is staring at her phone with a frown. And then those eyes lift to me, and somehow, I instinctively know something is wrong. Something that has to do with me, judging by the way her eyes fill with a mix of fear and pity.
“What?” I breathe out.
There are a few other people in the box: Bree’s friend Dylan and her sister Lily. They each look at me like I’ve just been announced as the newest tribute in the Hunger Games.
Bree opens her arms to me. “Come get a hug first, and then I’ll tell you.”
My stomach falls, but I comply, stepping into Bree’s arms and letting her squeeze the life out of me before she releases me, handing over her phone.
I hold it but can’t bring my eyes to look yet. “Do you think if I avoid looking at whatever you’re trying to show me, it’ll just…go away?”
“Not likely,” Bree says with a frown that makes me even more nervous. “And you should read it quickly.”
My mom steps up beside me to read over my shoulder—scanning the online article that just dropped a few minutes ago on the heels of the Sharks’ win. The article isn’t about the L.A. Sharks, though, it’s about me. And Derek…but mostly me.
The title of the article isConniving Agent Marries Football Legend to Further Career.
Wow, how original.But then the terror sets in because as I read, I realize a lot of what this article says is truth. I mean, it’s spun to make me look like a manipulative witch, but the foundation of the truth is there. It states that although Derek and I presented a romantic front, it was all a lie. That our spontaneous elopement was nothing more than a drunken mistake on Derek’s part.
The source has the audacity to suggest that I purposely got Derek drunk and used him as a way to get ahead in my career (that part an obvious lie). It then goes on to spell out how our honeymoon was nothing but a publicity stunt that Derek was forced into to cover our butts so he didn’t ruin his reputation. Which…is not at all true either. Derek’s reputation has withstood far worse. (Including the time he got drunk in a club and stripped completely naked in the center of the dance floor. He was escorted out and put in a car and all that came of it was a lot of blurred-out gifs. His endorsements still flowedin.)
No, it was my reputation that Derek was voluntarily protecting.
“How dare they write this,” I say, shaking as I near the end of the horrendous article and see that the source is cited as anonymous, but this is undoubtably the work of a jealous co-worker. And then I remember the day I spilled my guts to Nicole in the office several weeks ago and us thinking we heard someone in the hallway. Apparently, there was someone listening in.
I’m going to barf.
“Are you okay, hon?” my mom asks, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“Yes…no…somewhere in the middle maybe.”
“Do you have any idea who wrote this?” Bree asks, concern etching her brow.
“Someone jealous enough about the sudden spike in my career to want to see it end,” I say, knowing exactly who it is. It’s the same person who’s been whispering behind my back for weeks. The same one who has been upset watching the office slowly accept me as one of their own. And the same one who has tried to poach the athletes I’ve been in talks with right out from under me—claiming he’s seen my work ethic and it leaves much to be desired.Your work ethic leaves much to be desired, Marty, judging by how poor a job you do of cleaning up your trash in the break room.
I hand Bree’s phone back to her when my own begins vibrating in my back pocket. I pull it out and find Nicole’s name on my screen. She must have seen the article.
“I just read it,” I tell her in lieu of a greeting.
She doesn’t bother with one either. Instead, she cuts right to the point. A point that makes a cold sweat break out down the back of my neck. “Derek’s press conference. You need to get to him and prepare him before he steps in front of the cameras.”
I mutter a curse and take off in a sprint out of the box.
—
I jog as fast as I can through the stadium, accidentally bumping into a few people in the process. One guy holding a beer is not watching where he’s going and clearly doesn’t expect a woman running toward him at the speed of light because he steps out directly into my path. That beer ends up all over my beautiful new jersey and if I weren’t already in a frantic hurry to make it to Derek, I’d (1) stop and buy him a new drink because courtesy is the currency of my life. (2) I’d feel buzzed with excitement to try out a new stain-removing hack. But there’s no time, so I keep pushing through the crowd.
I manage to dash off a text to Derek while moving, but upon a second look, I realize it readsTrbl. CLL mE.
When he doesn’t call me immediately, I call him on repeat while zigzagging through the crowd and flashing my media badge to security guards as I rush down tunnels until I’m field level. After the fifth time Derek doesn’t answer his phone, I’m fairly certain he must have left it in his damn locker.
There’s a security guard posted outside the media room, and when I race up to it dragging in breaths like I’ll never get another, the man looks as though he’s debating throwing me in handcuffs out of precaution alone. I try to push past him, but he stops me with a sharp frown. “You can’t go in, ma’am. They’re in session right now.”
“I know—that’s why I need to get in there.”
“No one goes in after they’ve started.”
I summon my inner Nicole and hold up my badge three inches from his face. “I’m an agent and my client is participating in a press conference right now without me. Kindly step aside or find yourself without a job next week when I speak with the GM about your conduct.”
