Page 24 of Forever Relentless

I had gone to school to study marketing, and at twenty-four, a social media marketing manager or influencer was a natural fit for my major. I’d lied about my name and added an extra year to my birthdate to give myself credibility, but my content on my socials and my portfolio spoke for me.

Thank the Lord I had the sense to set my social media profile to the bare minimum when I set it up.

Today, though, my portfolio wasn’t going to be the thing that kept my cover intact.

Mason had been dead set against my coming here, but when had I ever listened to my little brother? Oh, that’s right, never.

“Hi Briar, how are you feeling?” Gaby asked me.

I’d told them I had the stomach flu and would work from home, and they didn’t even question me. I kind of wanted to resent them for it, but they were so easy to dupe; I let everything working in my favor keep working in my favor.

“I’m good, thanks,” I told her, letting my hair fall over my face as I set my tote on the table and pulled out my laptop.

“Oh, you don’t need to unpack,” she told me airily as she sipped whatever ice-cold coffee concoction she had this morning. “You’re at the Den all day.”

I swallowed. “I have a lot of content already,” I argued weakly. I did not want to see Noah Matthews this morning.

“They have a new jersey or uniform or . . .” she shrugged. “Something. I don’t know. The coach was all for freshness, so . . .” She sipped her coffee.

“What is it?” I asked, pointing at the cup. I like coffee, but Gaby had an obsession that bordered on dangerous. “On a caffeine-to-sugar ratio, what are the percentages?”

Gaby grinned. “It’s a mocha lite, extra shot, caramel twist, raspberry iced cappuccino.”

I blinked. “I don’t think that can exist, can it? A mocha can’t be a cappuccino too, right? Caramel and raspberry?”

She grinned. “It tastes divine.”

I eyed the clear plastic cup. “The sugar’s going to hit you in what, ten minutes?”

She nodded. “And then the caffeine rush and—”

“You’ll crash in about forty minutes,” I told her flatly.

“Which is why I already have a preorder in for a delivery at ten.”

I picked up my tote. “The Den is looking more and more enticing.”

Her laughter carried out the door with me.

The marketing office wasn’t far from the stadium and the athletic building; I just liked to take the long way around to make sure I didn’t run into anyone I didn’t want to.

I’d had one meeting with Bobby Ray Sutherland since I was here, and I’d kept my head down throughout, while the dean did all the talking. I wouldn’t say I looked like my brother, but if you put us side by side, even with him a foot taller than me, you’d definitely see the family resemblance.

Bobby Ray Sutherland was not a stupid man. A greedy, conniving, backstabbing bastard, yes. Stupid? No. So I kept my head down, my hair over my face, and never looked up whenever he was near. I was quite simply hiding in plain sight.

I’d been so scared he’d remember me. Mason had been thrilled to get into Wrighton. The football program was one of the best, and it was only two hours from home. As his older sister, I was thrilled that my brother was thrilled. I’d met Coach Douche after one of Mason’s first games. He had given no pervy, sleazy vibes, but his eyes were dead. It was clear, to me anyway, that he didn’t give a fuck who played for him as long as they played the way he wanted.

Mason was a defensive end, really fast off the line, and his whole intent was to get to the quarterback. Sometimes he went off script when he saw an opportunity. Coach Sutherland had come over as Mason was talking to my mom and me after the game and basically told him to ‘watch himself’ if he wanted to keep on playing. My brother, never one to keep his mouth shut, had made some comment about how his play had worked.

Coach Fucker had benched him for the next two games. To ‘teach him a lesson on how he spoke to his coach.’ So, when the program didn’t stop the rumors of who had assaulted Tiffany, I knew exactly who could have shut it down, and who chose not to.

Sutherland had no idea what hell he caused either of them because he was too fucking arrogant to see past his own self-importance. There wasn’t anything that happened in his program he wouldn’t know about, and I would find a way to make him apologize for the pain he caused my brother.

I used the ID pass I’d been given to access the training facility, as they were practicing inside today. The spring game was coming up, and I guess they were going to have a new kit, along with new plays and maybe some new starters.

“Media.”

That’s what one of the assistant coaches, Kevin Campbell, called me. Media. He was middle-aged, graying at the temples, with hard eyes and a permanent scowl. The kind of man who thought buying the next size up in a shirt would disguise the extra weight he carried; it didn’t.