Droplets start to collect on the SUV windows and I look out at the city as we drive, and quiet thunder rolls through the air.
The guy asks me a couple of easy questions, the typical ones about how it is to play a football player on TV.
But then he steps over a line.
“Now, Logan, I know you’re a private guy. You don’t talk about things likematters of lovein the public. But what actuallyhappenedwith Caitlyn Grener? Can you give us any juicy details at all? Even just a scrap?”
I cut a glance over at Emily and she’s furrowing her brow.
The call is on speakerphone and she just heard all of that, too.
She mouths a silent “what the fuck?” at me, because she knows that we always brief interviewers to tell them that I’m not comfortable talking about my love life on the show.
This guy expressly agreed not to ask about Caitlyn.
But now I’m live on the air.
And the host fucking knows I’m trapped.
“Caitlyn is a wonderful person,” I start to say, choosing my words carefully. I feel like I’m stepping over landmines, and if I phrase anything wrong, I could be misquoted. “I’m very happy for where she’s going, and proud of her career. It’s been a meteoric rise.”
The radio host laughs. “Well, we’re certainly glad to hear you’re happy. Because you sure didn’t look happy in that picture!”
Another one of the radio people chuckles in the background, and suddenly I feel like I’m part of some farce.
“Ah, yes, no. That was a perfectly good night.”
“Certainly seemed like it for Caitlyn!” the guy says. “We had her on for an interview just a few days ago, and she says she’s never been happier in her life. She talked aboutshedding old baggage.”
I’m silent after the host says that.
I’m stunned into disbelief, actually. A distant roll of thunder sounds through the air.
There’s no chance he’s actually implying that there’s some made-up world where I got cheated on by Caitlyn Grener and now she’s calling me her old baggage.
I never even fucking dated the woman, and somehow the narrative has become this entrenched?
“I’m just happy that she’s happy. Do you have any other questions, maybe aboutYard Line?”
As soon as we hang up the call, Emily shakes her head.
“Never fucking working with them again,” Emily tells me. “If we wanted to bring in legal, we could. That’s a breach of our contract agreement, for sure. I’m so sorry, Logan.”
I exhale, shifting on the cool leather seat. “They’re not usually so aggressive. I mean, hosts press me a little bit, sometimes, but that was over the line.”
We drive through the city to Chase’s art studio, which is tucked away on a cramped street right between a laundromat and a lamp shop. The door is so small and unmarked that we almost miss it when we pull over to the side of the road.
I check my phone before we head in.
And I see that already, I have an alert from my publicist asking what the hell happened on the radio show.
There’s a link to an article calledLogan Stone Flails on the Radio, Demanding A Change of Subject about Caitlyn Grener.
I show it to Emily.
“I didn’tdemandanything,” I protest. “God, I hate that they can spin anything to make the public believe whatever they want.”
Emily sighs. “I can take care of it. Try to put it out of your mind, okay?”
