“You're blackmailing me.”
“I'm trading. I have one story or the other. Your call on which one I run.”
I think about Riley in the hotel lobby, sliding the coffee toward me.
“Would you have done that for anybody on the team? Or just him?”
Three weeks of barely speaking to anyone, and the first thing he asked if I'd protect him.
I think about the bartender on tape.
I think about Noah. About the timeline. About what's already public and what I can still control.
Riley's nineteen.
Noah's already taken his hit. The story about us is going to run no matter what I do. I can't undo that.
But Riley hasn't been hit yet. And he doesn't have to be.
“When?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Tomorrow. Noon. The coffee shop on Fifth.”
“How do I know you'll keep him out of it?”
“You don't. You take my word.”
“Your word means nothing.”
“Then take this.” He finally meets my eyes, and for the first time in this conversation I'm not sure what I'm looking at. “I don't want to write that story. I don't get off on outing nineteen-year-olds. I want the bigger piece. The redemption arc. Yours. That's the story that gets me the byline I want. The kid's just leverage. Give me what I need and I throw the other story away.”
I almost believe him.
That's the worst part.
“Get out of my apartment.”
“Tomorrow at noon, Danny.”
He shows himself out.
I stand in the middle of my living room for a long time, breathing, thinking. Then I pick up my phone and almost call Noah.
I almost call him.
I don't.
He ended things. He told me to stay away. And if I tell himabout this, he'll call me a fucking idiot and tell me not to do it. He'll say Alex is bluffing. He'll say we figure it out together.
And I don't know if he's wrong. But I do know this…if Alex isn't bluffing, and I do nothing, Riley's career is over before it started.
Because of me. Because of what Alex saw in ourlocker room. Because of a story Alex is writing aboutme.
Some things you don't talk about. You just watch out for the people who need it.
I put the phone down.
Tomorrow at noon.
