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“Will you just wait? I’m getting to it.”
Reggie took a drink as he waved her on.
“She was hanging all over Tony but he was more interested in another woman,” Amanda continued. “I didn’t think much about it at the time. But a couple of hours after I left, she called me.”
“And?”
She detailed the call and the cancellation that morning. “Needless to say, I’m tired and frustrated. Part of me was glad she pulled a no-show. I don’t like the idea of getting a story through an ex-lover and that’s how this is feeling. And this is so bad—” she hated admitting this out loud, hated what the competition was doing to her “—but another part of me worried she went to Jack instead.”
“I doubt she went to Jack. He has a way with the guys. Women are another story.”
“I can vouch for that.”
“You’re in a spot, though. How you handle anything Laura tells you will be delicate. You don’t use it and she clams up, never telling you another thing and passes the word to everyone she hangs with. You do use it and it pisses off the team, then they won’t talk to you. And that’s presuming she’s telling the truth. Nasty all around.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?”
“Nope, I do not. A wingman tells it like it is. But he also brings coffee. And on really rough mornings, chocolate doughnuts.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said with a smile. “And it just so happens that I’ve been thinking about exactly this subject. The way I see it, if I get this steroid story and go to the player and give him a chance to tell his version, then I’ll earn trust rather than destroy it.”
“Sounds like a plan. The key is to beat Jack to the story. Despite what I just said, I think you have to work Laura.”
“I know. I don’t want to, but I will. Since we have a game tonight I’ll try to catch her at the stadium. Until then I need to work ahead on feature ideas.”
Reggie pushed to his feet. “Check. Reading between the lines—get lost.”
Amanda grinned. “Yes, but only after I’ve used you thoroughly. I need the best action shots of Brad and Casey pitching you can get me.” She mentioned several other photos for potential stories. With so much performance pressure, she needed options in case she changed her mind.
Reggie winked. “You got it. I’ll e-mail you the shots within the hour.”
***
BRAD’S BOOTS scraped against the floor of the home-style restaurant where he was meeting Tony and Kurt for breakfast. He felt as rough as he probably looked. The ache in his arm had rendered shaving impossible. The pain, which radiated from his elbow to his shoulder, had kept him awake most of the night. That, and thoughts of Amanda.
He’d been a damn fool to align himself with a member of the press. That phone conversation with Laura had been a wake-up call. Amanda may not have sideswiped the team with bad press yet, but Jack had proved that once a reporter, always a reporter. They were all after a story. How they used the information they were given depended only on their current agenda.
The worst part of this situation was he still wanted her. If he ever found himself alone with Amanda, he wasn’t so sure he could resist her. One night with her hadn’t come close to satisfying his desire. She was in his head, working a number on him. Driving him insane.
Shoving away the thoughts, Brad approached the table, slapping on a game face.
Kurt grabbed his hat from the seat next to him, and stuck it under his chair. “Morning,” he murmured, scrutinizing Brad before adding, “Or maybe not.”
“Long night?” Tony asked, as he buttered his toast.
Brad’s only reply was a grunt as he sat. He prayed Tony wouldn’t start needling him over Amanda. Most of the time Brad found Tony entertaining and could give as good as he got. This wasn’t going to be one of those times.
A fifty-something waitress appeared beside Brad. “What can I get you?”
“Coffee. Black. And keep it coming.”
“Something to eat?”
“Just the caffeine for now.”
“I’ll take some Texas Pete,” Kurt said.
The woman stared at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about. Kurt asked every wait person at every restaurant for the Texas condiment, knowing they wouldn’t have a clue what it was. Something in their reactions amused him.
“Hot sauce,” Brad told the woman. She shook her head, then left to fill the order.
Kurt turned a sharp gaze on Brad. “You really are foul this morning.”
Brad didn’t reply, just turned his cup right side up so he’d be ready for his coffee.
“Guess you didn’t get lucky last night, after all,” Tony taunted.
“Like I’d tell you if I did.” Brad thanked the waitress as she filled his cup. He brought the cup to his lips, eager for the brew.
