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“The second thing we have to look at is who knows the information thatLowdowngot. Let’s make a list,” he said, pulling a notepad out of a drawer and sliding it across to Reese. She grabbed a pen that was sitting on his counter.
“Cam knows everything, but he would never tell. Plus, I’ve already asked him about this, and he denied knowing anything, and he’s a terrible liar. I’d have known if he wasn’t telling the truth. There’s also Daria, Marnie, John, and I assume the PR team. And who knows if they’ve told anyone. I know you know, but you’d also never tell.”
“At least we have a list to work with. I think your next step is to talk to John. He needs to go back to the PR team and see what they know.”
As Reese wrote down her suspects, a thought occurred to her. “I wonder if I could feed certain people information to see if it ended up inLowdown.”
Grady’s microwave dinged and he retrieved his food and sat at his kitchen island with her. “You could,” he said. “But maybe see if John’s team can find the mole first. Want some food?”
“I’m too angry to eat.”
“I know it sucks. But you’ll figure this out.”
Reese sipped more of her wine. “I can only assume that whoever is behind this is doing it for monetary gain.Lowdownmust be paying them. But how much could it possibly be?”
“Maybe, but it can’t be much. But don’t they also have a YouTube channel and other revenue streams?”
“Maybe. I’m going to investigate further. I suppose I need to figure out why someone close to me would do this.”
“For all you know, it could be for the attention—knowing something no one else knows.”
Reese thought about that later as she lay in bed unable to sleep. She’d stayed over at Grady’s, but his long day at the rink had him passing out the moment his head hit the pillow. She couldn’t help but wonder who had betrayed her. She knew she could eliminate Grady, Cam, and Daria from the list. But she couldn’t trust anyone else.
ChapterThirty-One
Reese’s plus-size line was quietly launched. Her marketing team had done what they could with what few resources they had. They’d been instructed by the PR team not to use Reese’s image and not to mention her at all. They’d used their small advertising budget for social media campaigns. There wasn’t the fanfare she’d gotten when she’d launched her very first line, or the men’s line a year later. There was simply no extra money to splash out, but her marketing team had focused on a lot of influencers, so Reese had some hope. Deep down, though, she knew the line would be seriously in the red until she could untarnish her image.
Reese was no closer to finding out who the mole was, and now with Grady in training camp, she saw less of him. When she did see him, he was usually both mentally and physically exhausted. For a brief moment she wondered if this would be a new pattern for them, the way it had been with Jordy, but she banished that thought. Grady was nothing like Jordy and she wouldn’t even let herself think about that again. Even though it felt like her world was contracting, she poured herself into her work.
Reese was engrossed in work when Daria knocked on the door. Reese motioned for her to come in, and Daria sat across from her. She could see by Daria’s pensive look that it was more bad news.
“Just rip the Band-Aid off,” Reese said.
“How did you know?”
“It’s written all over your face.”
Daria cleared her throat and grimaced. “Josh Semple called. He wanted to speak to you about a piece that’s appearing in theGazetteon Saturday. It sounds like it’s going to be a feature in the Entertainment section. Actually, it sounds like several features.”
Reese’s stomach did a nosedive. TheGazette’sSaturday edition was a must-have, and given any other situation, she would have leapt at the opportunity to get that kind of exposure, especially with her new line tanking. But Josh Semple had no love for her, or her sport, and every piece was an attack. Why would this one be any different?
“Did he say what it was about?”
“The whole Jennifer Brennan scandal. He mentioned something about this being a series of articles and that he’d like your participation. Before you even ask, I’ve left a message for John to get back to us.”
“Semple hates me. This is going to be a disaster.”
“I’m going to assume John will not want you to participate.”
“I’m assuming the same thing.”
“When I hear from him, I’ll let you know.”
It was Thursday, and Semple was cutting it close for a comment. Reese didn’t know what to think, and instead of concentrating on her work, she was thinking about Semple. She wanted to call him back, state her case, but she knew John would kill her. So she waited. Made coffee from the single-serve coffee maker in the break room, and paced her office. John called her back an hour later. By that point, Reese had consumed three cups of coffee and was bouncing off the walls.
“I spoke to Semple,” he started. “I’m not sure what his angle is. He asked a lot of questions, but they weren’t ones I expected. I thought for sure he was going to go for the jugular, but it sounds like it may be fair and balanced. The bad news is that he plans to run this as a series; theGazetteis going to print one article a week in their Saturday edition for a few weeks. I have a feeling this goes beyond you and Jennifer, but we won’t know for sure until we see what’s printed on Saturday.”
“What do I do?”
