“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re lying, as usual.”
“I know.”
“You got enough to throw Sunday night?”
“I think I do,” Piper said, as his face turned to Tank.
“Okay. You got this, we got this. You know you are not alone out there. I have pressure to fucking catch the ball, just like you have pressure to throw it,” Tank said, as he wiped down the bench with a towel.
“Tank, I’m locked in. I promise.”
“Good. Fuck Seattle.” Tank smacked Piper on the ass and walked out of the weight room.
Piper looked up and managed a smile. “Fuck Seattle.”
***
Piper managed to finish a few more sets before his phone buzzed. He knew who he wanted it to be, and could not be, but it was Vivienne. He picked up on the second ring.
“Are you home?”
“At the gym, but I’ll be home in an hour.”
“I’m coming over,” she replied.
“Okay. What is going on?”
She hung up.
Oh shit Joan, we can’t take another distraction, but I guess when my flop era rains, it pours.Piper thought as he peeled off his sweat-soaked tank top. He had pushed himself to the limit in the weight room in an attempt to resurrect the old version of Piper, the golden boy.
***
Vivienne let herself in through the side gate with the code she knew by heart. She was in a gray Chanel blazer over a black tank, the uniform she wore to her office and also, Piper had learned, the uniform she wore to emergencies.
“Piper, something is coming.”
“Can I get ahello Piperor a hug before the fucking dramatics, Viv?”
“Just sit the fuck down. Something is coming this week, Piper. I am telling you because I need you ready for it.”
“Tell me.”
“A long time friend, a journalist called me, his name is Caleb Ward, you know him?”
“I do, great reporter,” Piper replied.
Vivienne looked at him. “He has been investigating you obsessively for fucking months.”
He paused. “About Noah?”
“Among other things.”
“Jayson?”
