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Oddly, they all paused.
Feeling empowered, she studied them all. “Is anyone here fromThe Tribune?”
“I am,” a man said, raising his hand, a large camera dangling from his neck.
“Come here,” she told him.
He glanced at the other reporters and then carefully let himself into the yard, pulling out an old-school notepad and pencil as he approached.
Rachel met him halfway. “I’m going to make a statement. Are you ready to take it?”
“Yeah,” he said, bracing his pencil.
“I went to a baseball game with Jamie MacNiven. It was a simple date while he was in town, period. He’s a great guy, and I hope to see him again, but, frankly, I let my work get in the way of our friendship, so I’m not sure he’ll be interested. That said, I’m hoping to correct that. Love is more important than work. Make sure you print that.”
The reporter glanced up. “You love him?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I cannot, and will not, speak for Jamie on that.”
“Got it.” The guy scratched it all down.
When he seemed ready, she continued. “As far as speculation about Jamie leaving his football team on the sly to come play for the Fire, that’s ridiculous. If you knew Jamie, or knew anything about his reputation, you’d know that he’s loyal and cares about his teammates like they’re family. He’d never leave them in a lurch. Anyone who believes that doesn’t know Jamie at all.” She exhaled, her knees weak. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a couple more things to do.”
“Thanks, Ms. Morgan,” he said, rushing off with his story.
The other reporters swarmed her the second she stepped onto the sidewalk. She had a moment of panic—she should have called a cab to pick her up. Rookie mistake.
Luck smiled on her, because after a block of them hounding her, a free taxi rolled down the street. She flagged it down, knowing she must look like a deranged muppet in her desperation.
The driver stopped and she hopped in, closing the door on the last of the errant reporters. She wilted against the seat when she heard the driver lock the doors.
“You famous or something?” he asked after she gave him her work address.
“I went out with someone famous,” she replied. She hoped she’d get to go out with him again, forever.
She’d almost expected there to be paparazzi at work, but it was amazingly normal when she got there. Instead of going to her cubicle, she went to Robert’s office.
His assistant glanced up when Rachel blew in. “He’s in a meet—”
Rachel strode past her and opened the door to let herself in.
Robert sat at his desk, reclined like the world was his oyster. Hailey sat on the edge of his desk, leaning toward the large computer screen, which had Rachel’s favorite photo of Jamie on it, big and in high res.
She loved that photo, and she was especially grateful for it now, because it showed her the truth of what was going on here—loud and clear. Jamie had been right. They were using her to get to him.
Shaking her head, she reached into her purse for the folder.
“Rachel,” Robert boomed, standing up. “Just in time.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” she said, extracting one of the pieces of paper she’d put in there. “It’s so good that you and Hailey are here. Here you go.”
“What is this? Another plan? Is it for MacNiven?” He took the page and scanned it. Then he looked up, his brow furrowed. “What is this?”
“I quit.” It felt good saying it, so she said it again. “I quit, effective right now.”
“You can’t quit,” Hailey said, standing up.
She rolled her eyes. “Or you’ll, what? Tie me to my office chair?”
