Then the former coach left and the air of big, tough, superhero football gods was back. I could almost smell the testosterone and sweat in the air. Like they had to turn it up to eleven after showing even a hint of emotion.
The press conference lasted barely fifteen minutes, including questions, most of which had nothing to do with Lori Franks. Several journalists asked about the coming season and another asked about some gossip they heard regarding Ollie Tucker and Tasha Magnusson, a pop star who sometimes sang the national anthem at sports games. The player in question wasn't present, but would likely have found the question as inappropriate as I did. New Head Coach Wayne Quinn had laughed it off and ended the conference on that note.
Too bad no one asked me. I could’ve told them the rumour was fake.
I peered over the heads of the other journalists, trying to see who had asked the question, and what their reaction was to Quinn.
Harvey Danbury was the likely culprit. He looked as smug as he always did, as if he was handed a juicy headline, in spite of Quinn's evasion.
He saw me looking and gave me that slimy grin of his. He took a few steps in my direction, but I ducked my head and hurried out of the room. The last thing I wanted was to have a conversation with him. I'd have to wash my…well, everything, afterward. Even my soul. I knew it was intentional on his part. He wanted people to be uncomfortable. He looked for slip-ups, not exclusive interviews. Trust didn't factor into anything he did.
Ick.
I bet he spent a lot of time searching through dumpsters and following people around for the right moment to snap and shareonline. He was the kind of guy who gave the rest of us a bad name. He wouldn't even be at the press conference if he didn't smell something he could use. Only a total sleazebag would dare to try and turn a dying woman into a scandal.
Dragging my thoughts back to the present, I wiggled my toes in my shoes. I stood to look at myself in the mirror. I turned this way and that, appraising how the skirt sat at just the right place on my legs to make them appear longer. The blouse complimented my skin tone and brought out the hint of green in my eyes. A hint of mascara and a touch of pale pink on my lips finished off the outfit. I looked like me, but a cuter, more put-together version than usual. I should take Grace's advice more often. I liked the way I looked, but more importantly, I liked the way Ifelt.
"All right, Rebecca Anderson, are you ready to take on the world?" I asked myself.
I grimaced. Maybe not the world, but one dinner, to get the exclusive story from one of the masters of the universe. No pressure.
Old acquaintance or not, he might give me the story of the year. A greater insight into the inner workings of the Lowball Bay Humpbacks, and how they operated as a cohesive unit. Readers loved stories like that. They liked to see their heroes as people. People who worked hard, played hard and had each other's backs. It was like the Avengers, but with less technology and slightly fewer gods.
At least that was the perception I wanted to give in my story. The ultimate feel-good. Let people like Danbury dig for dirt. I wouldn't join the relentless race to the bottom, no matter what happened. I'd rather give up my job than write that kind of crap. I wanted to have integrity. Most of all, I wanted to sleep at night knowing I hadn't shattered anyone's world into ugly little pieces.No one deserved that. Okay, mostly no one. I still wanted to get my own back on Hawk Florence, but not to that extent.
I was determined to walk away with my dignity intact.
I grabbed my bag, phone and keys and headed out the door.
