“You know that’s not what I do, Jeff,” I defended myself but my voice lost its gusto. “I’m here for ideas…more like motivation. Nothing more.”
“Right.” He shook his head and tensed his jaw as he scanned the room. “Motivation to find out who’s sleeping with who? Who has a better batting average when they’re in a relationship versus being single?”
I gritted my teeth and willed my skin to not turn red. My cheeks burned when I attempted to defend my reasoning forwriting those posts. “It was for entertainment, Jeff. Plus, the stats didn’t lie.”
He gave me a look like many of my professors had.Disappointment.“Do you ever think about writing something credible or for a good cause?”
“The story about Hilly and Greta was?—”
“Fine, sure.” He waved a hand in dismissal and gave me a look that made me feel even smaller than my just-over-five-feet frame. “But you couldactuallyspend time writing posts that matter. Not dumbass pieces that exploit athletes and encourage cleat chasers to come after us.” He pressed his lips together and let out an aggravated sigh. “Stay away from my team, Amber.”
Then he stalked away to the front of the room, his stiff shoulders telling me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t a fan of what I did or who I was. It wasn’t news, but his words hit one of my deepest insecurities.What am I even doing with my social pages? My life?
God damn it. Find a story!I finished the water and tossed the bottle into a trash can when a familiar deep, masculine laugh caught my attention.That’s my Uncle Martin.My mood lifted instantly and I headed toward him. He was dressed in a three-piece suit and had his hand on a shoulder of a middle-aged man I didn’t recognize. He finished telling a joke—a specialty of my favorite family member—before he noticed me and ushered me over. “Amber Henderson.”
“Martin Rhett,” I replied, mirroring his hugging stance and smiling into his chest when he wrapped me in a bear hug like he had since I was a child. “I don’t even know why you’re here, but I’m so glad.”
“Business partners in the community. We love supporting athletes!” He kept his arm around me and introduced me to the gentleman around us. “This is my favorite niece, fellas. She’s a senior this year and is a hell of a writer.”
Various hellos and greetings echoed around me and I relished my uncle’s words.A hell of a writer.He never made me feel stupid or unremarkable. He’d encouraged me my entire life and seeing him at the event gave me the necessary boost of confidence.
“Nice to meet you all,” I said, looking all five of them in the eye and shaking their hands. There was a brief moment where I faced the direction of the baseball table and met Jeff’s gaze, but I forced myself to not stare or think about why he was watching me with anger in his eyes. “Anyone have a good story for me? I’m looking for a topic on my senior project and could use some ideas.”
“Ah, my girl is always working.” Uncle Martin laughed and led me away from the group with a smile that had taken years to practice. Once we were out of earshot, he changed his expression. “How did you get into the event, Amber? I thought this was for athletes only.”
“See, the thing is… I was on my way out.” I gave him a cheesy smile. “Lunch next time you’re in town?”
“Of course.” He pulled me into another hug. “Stay out of trouble, okay? You have four more months of college and I don’t want anythingmoreto happen. You know?”
Like my little drug and drinking binge freshman year?
Or my academic probation?
“I know, I know.” I frowned and felt every ounce of shame in my bones. “I’ll head out. I really did come for ideas. Nothing more.”
“I believe you. Now go through the side door. I’ll cover for you.” He indicated the large black double-doors and winked. “While I can’t condone you sneaking into an event, it does bring me joy to know you do have a little Rhett in your blood.”
“See you later, Uncle.” I smiled and snuck one more glance around the ballroom before leaving. It didn’t mean anythingwhen Jeff continued to stare at me with an unreadable expression on his face. If anything, he should’ve been happy I was leaving his precious party.Ugh.
New post idea.
Jeff Maddow should pullthe stick out of his own ass to get a better batting average.
2
JEFF
Aaron Hill and Tanner Johnson had the tempers, not me, yet the urge to slam my fist through a wall grew stronger the more I thought about Jaime Smith. The fundraiser had done nothing to appease the growing frustration, nor had working out harder than normal that morning. It was bullshit. I left the shower and called him again, hoping he’d answer to explain what the hell had changed since the previous month. The kid had talent and deserved a scholarship and a place on the team—so what had made my coach take it away?
“Yo, Maddow,” Jaime answered without the normal pep in his voice.
“I’m fucking pissed, man.” I clenched my fist a couple of times and asked the question I couldn’t stop thinking about. “What are you going to do now?”
Now that your future’s been taken away for no reason.
“Look, this guy from a community college contacted me and he seems all right. Might play for him a year or two, save up some money. My ma found a part-time job for me on the weekends, so I’ll be good.”
A dull headache started at the base of my skull and I needed to clarify one more thing before storming into my coach’s office. “I know I’ve asked before, but Coach talked to you, verbally promised you a spot on the team and backed out without an explanation?”
