by Sterling, J.
Chills surged down my neck, causing the hairs to stand on end with her demands. She was hot as fuck when she was angry. I wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right here, while our model driver watched. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I’m sorry.”
Her breathing still erratic, she reached for my hand, pulling me toward the giant waiting shadow. “Don’t be like that. It’s not fair to me. I’m the one who gets to be upset and have insecurities, and figure out how to trust you again. Not the other way around.” Her voice turned to a whisper as we neared Matteo.
“Good evening, Mr. Carter, Miss Andrews,” Matteo’s voice rang out as he pulled open the rear door.
“Seriously, Matteo, call me Jack. Or Carter, even. Just drop the mister. Please.”
“Are you sure?” he asked one last time.
“I’m fucking positive,” I answered with a laugh, hoping that the f-word would break the ice even further.
“OK, boss. If you insist.”
That’s right. I’m your boss, model boy. And I do insist.
“How about you, Miss Andrews?”
Cassie leaned her head to the side, her lips puckering. “How about me, what?”
Is she flirting with him?
“What do you prefer I call you?” His eyes locked on to hers, and I wanted to introduce my fist to his jaw. Or piss all over Cassie in an effort to claim her as mine.
Get it together, Carter.
“Just Cassie would be great. No Miss Andrews. It’s sorta weird and creepy.”
“You’re weird and creepy.” I leaned into her ear, whispering.
She whipped her head around to face me, and I grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to mine. Her tongue parted my lips, and I deepened the kiss, my hands roaming down her back to her ass. I squeezed and she moaned into me. My lower body willing and able, I suddenly wished for privacy glass so I could take her in the back of this car.
Matteo cleared his throat as he eased the car forward. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure we were heading home and not stopping anywhere first.”
“We have to stop somewhere. I’m starving,” I said. “But no pizza. I need meat.”
The sound of Cass’s cell phone beeping distracted me from my starving stomach as I wondered who was texting her this late. As if sensing my question, she said, “It’s Melissa. She wants to know if we’re fighting already.” She scratched the side of her head, her hair dangling around her fingers.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m asking her.” She barely responded as her fingers raced across the cell phone screen.
“I keep forgetting it’s three hours earlier there, you know?”
“I know, right? Me too,” she said, still typing.
I watched as the Manhattan skyline grew closer with each passing moment, marveling at the unmatched character of this city. I’d never seen so many tall buildings in such a small space before. I knew that seemed stupid, but there was nothing like this in Southern California. I fucking loved it here already. Cassie’s phone beeped again. And then again, as I turned to her.
“Oh my God.”
“What is it?” I focused as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Cass?”
She waved a finger in the air. “There are pictures of us online already. From when we were just talking a few minutes ago. They look bad.”
Cassie shoved her cell phone in front of my face, and I stared at the three attached photos, all showing Cassie looking upset and angry while I stood there like a jackass. The Internet caption on the photo read: “Jack Hits a Home Run on the Field, but Strikes Out at Home!”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, her voice shaking.
I tossed my arm around her shoulder, pulling her body against me. “There’s nothing you can do. We should probably be more aware from now on when we’re out in public.” Anger worked through me as I digested the simple fact that nowhere was safe from prying eyes. It was the one part of being a professional athlete that I loathed. I hated having no control over which pictures were posted of my personal life and when. I honestly couldn’t give a shit what they posted about me, but posting things about Cassie crossed the line.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t even think about who might be watching.” Her breath warmed my chest.
“It’s not your fault.” I planted a kiss on the top of her head. “We didn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff before.”
“I look like such a bitch in those pictures.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I tried to reassure her but ended up pissing her off instead.
She pushed away from my chest, squaring her shoulders to me as her breath quickened. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
I leaned forward, cupping her cheek in my hand. “I’m just saying that people are going to think whatever they want to think, no matter what we look like in some online photo.”
Her eyes closed as her breathing evened out. “But I don’t want people to think you have some crazy mean girlfriend who yells at you after your games.”
“They won’t,” I told her. I couldn’t promise her that people wouldn’t think badly of her, but I’d do my fucking best to try. I’d fight the press for her. I’d do anything to keep her feeling safe, happy, and loved. She didn’t deserve to be vilified online for any reason. Hell, if the public knew anything about our relationship, they’d be hunting me down daily with pitchforks and chanting. “But you have to promise me something, Cass.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?” she pouted, looking up at me with those big green eyes.
“You can’t let them get to you. The press will write and post whatever they think will sell ads or get them attention. They say things all the time that aren’t true, and you just have to remember what is and what isn’t. OK?”
I’d experienced how rabid the press can get when it comes to players. I’d escaped the scrutiny somehow in regard to everything that happened between Chrystle and me. I always wondered if Marc had something to do with that, but I’d never asked him. I watched my teammates’ relationships crumble under the pressure and never once blamed them or their girlfriends for not being able to handle it. But I knew I couldn’t let that happen to Cassie and me. I’d make sure of it.
“Cass? Just try not to read anything if you can help it. Tell Melissa to filter what she sends you,” I suggested.
“Like only send me something if it’s good?” She shrugged.
“Yeah, Kitten.” I pressed my lips against her forehead. “Tell her to only send the good stuff.”
When Life Gives You Lemons
Cassie
Not wanting to wake up Jack, I grabbed my things for work as quietly as possible and headed out our front door. Once outside the apartment building, I rushed toward the subway station, noting the time. If I missed my train, I’d have to grab a cab. And grabbing a cab would take forever at this time of the morning.
I passed by a local newsstand as a headline caught my eye: “WELCOME TO THE BIG APPLE, JACK CARTER! GRAB A SEAT AND STAY AWHILE!” Jack had a love-hate relationship with the press. He told me once that the press only likes you when you’re winning. But the second you lose, you’re the first one they blame. It didn’t serve any purpose for him to read the things written about him by strangers, so he never did. He always said that he knew what he needed to improve upon, and he didn’t need it shoved down his throat by some reporter who had no idea what it was like to stand on that mound.
Plus, the bad articles really pissed him off, and he almost punched out a reporter once. One long-winded talk in the manager’s office with the media director present, and Jack vowed to never read any more press about the team again.
Even still, seeing this paper caused my heart to swell in size. His first win for the Mets was printed in black ink, and I wanted to cherish the memory, even if he didn’t. I figured since the article was positive, maybe Jack wouldn’t mind. So, I purchased one copy to read and another to k
eep.
I ran down the dank subway stairs, my papers clutched firmly in my hand as my train pulled in. The brakes squealed as it came to a complete stop before the doors opened. I hustled through the crowd and into the packed subway car. Not wanting to stand the whole way, I silently thanked God for the empty seat I spotted. Once sitting, I flipped open the paper to the sports section, immediately scanning the article on Jack. After skimming the highlights, I mistakenly decided to flip to the Entertainment & Arts section.
My pride-filled heart suddenly exploded inside my chest, and I almost choked on the air around me when I caught glimpse of a familiar photo. I stared at the larger-than-life picture of me pointing my finger at Jack, my face clearly twisted in anger. I looked furious as Jack simply stood there, dejection written all over his face. My eyes fell to the photo caption where my first name was posted as clear as day. “Mets new golden boy gets reamed by girlfriend Cassie off the field.”
Shit. How’d they already figure out who I am?
I snapped the paper closed and looked at the people sitting around me. I prayed they hadn’t seen the picture or noticed I was the one in it.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
That stupid picture showed up online last night and now it was printed in the newspaper for everyone to see. I reminded myself that no one actually read printed papers anymore before I realized that the online version would probably include the same articles. Shaking the embarrassment off, I fidgeted in my seat until my stop.
Walking into the office, I tossed my things down on top of my cluttered desk before heading into the small corporate kitchen. The magazine’s senior editor, Nora, flipped through the pages of a newspaper before glancing up at me.
“Morning, Cassie. I see you had quite the night last night.” Her gray eyes softened as she held the paper up for me to see.
I released a tense breath. “Yeah. It’s not what it looks like.” I attempted to defend myself, dunking a bag of chai tea into my cup of hot water.
She smiled, her short brown hair perfectly curled. “It never is.” Her voice soothed my fraying nerves.
“It looks bad though, right? Like I’m crazy angry?”
She glanced back down at the photo. “You look pretty pissed off.” Her gaze returned to me as I winced. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just one photo and no one will think anything of it.” She waved a hand in the air, and I wanted to believe her.
“Thanks, Nora.” I smiled, appreciative for her kind words. I turned to walk out when she called my name.
“Sit with me for a minute.” She pointed at the chair across from her.
Uh-oh.
My legs started to tremble as anxiety consumed me. That picture could be bad for the magazine, and I doubted they wanted to be associated with any negative publicity. What if she fired me over this?
“Stop looking at me like I stole your cab and sit down. You’re not in trouble.” I relaxed into the cold chair, still clutching the hot teacup in my hand. “I just wanted to hear about your first Mets game as a player’s girlfriend.”
A small breath escaped from my lips as I relaxed even further. Nora had been kind to me since the day I started in the office. She complimented my work, encouraged me to learn, and challenged me to grow on a daily basis. I respected her, and I wanted to earn her respect in return.
“So, how was it?” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes locked on to mine.
“It was,” I hesitated, “different than I expected.”
“Different how?” she asked, before sipping her coffee.
I glanced up at the white ceiling tiles, attempting to formulate my words into cohesive thoughts before answering. “It was amazing watching Jack play again. Nothing in the world compares to how that feels.” My heart squeezed inside my chest. “But the wives on the team are really mean. Like, none of them would even speak to me, mean.”
She let out a loud guffaw, her head tilting back. “You’re joking.”
I shook my head. “I wish I were.”
“So they wouldn’t talk to you?”
“No. They just stared at me at first and then they refused to acknowledge me at all. It’s like I wasn’t even there.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed at the fact that I’d be seeing these women again later.
“That’s awful. And so unnecessary. Why do we women treat one another with such disrespect?” she asked as my coworkers milled in and out of the small kitchen, casting curious glances in our direction.
“I don’t know.” I suddenly remembered the one bright spot in the evening. “Oh, yeah! One woman did talk to me. She was really nice. Her name was Trina. She’s a model. Freaking gorgeous.” I bit at my bottom lip.
“Trina Delacoy? Beautiful brown hair, bright hazel eyes?”
“Yeah. How do you know her?” I asked in surprise.
“She’s worked with us before, very nice girl. Who is she dating on the team?” she asked, bringing the ceramic mug back to her lips.
“The second baseman, Kyle Peters.”
“Make sure you tell her I said hello.” The lines around her eyes deepened with her grin.
“I will.”
“So, Cassie, now that your gorgeous super jock is back in your life, you’re not going to quit the magazine, are you?” She smirked at me knowingly as I pinched my eyebrows together.
“No. Why on earth would I quit?” The last thing I wanted to do was leave this job. While the very idea of Jack being back in my life caused my soul to beam with love, I still had career goals I wanted to achieve. I moved across the country to work for this magazine, and Jack didn’t affect my feelings about that.
“I was just making sure. I’d hate to lose you and all that beautiful potential you have.”
“As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours,” I said with a nervous grin.
“Good. I assume you’ll be traveling with the team some, won’t you?”
My breathing hitched as the question echoed in my ears. “I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest. Work is my priority, so I guess I’ll go to some of the away games on the weekends if I’m not busy.”
Jack’s schedule hadn’t even entered my mind. I’d been so overjoyed at simply having him back in my life, it never occurred to me. I had no idea how long he’d be in town before he turned around and left again. I made a mental note to talk about his travel schedule that night, after the game.
“Maybe we can schedule some magazine work in with your boy’s away games. Kill two birds with one stone?” she offered with a wink.
I fought back against the burn of tears forming in my eyes. I would not cry, no matter how kind and amazing this woman was to me. “If that would work out and it makes sense for the magazine, it would be amazing. But you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. And I’m not making any promises. Just bring me a copy of Jack’s schedule, and I’ll have my assistant look into it.” Her eyes wandered, glazing over as she tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe we can work in an online feature where we travel with you, highlighting some local human-interest stories from wherever you are. Or we can highlight the team and the charities they visit when they travel?” She hummed lightly. “So many possibilities. Although I’m not sure how they will work since the teams are usually in and out of towns rather quickly. But something to consider nonetheless.”
I listened to the thoughts and ideas that spilled from my boss’s mind, quietly waiting for her to dismiss me as my own excitement grew. The idea of being able to possibly work and travel with Jack at the same time thrilled me, but I refused to get my hopes up for something that might not be feasible.
“Go.” She waved me away. “We’ll talk about this later.”
I scurried out of the kitchen before flipping on my computer and scanning last night’s e-mails. I smiled when I saw Melissa’s name in my inbox.
Cass,
Just remember one thing… when life gives you lemons, cut ’em open and squeeze the juice in life’s face!!!!! Tha
t’ll teach life to mess with you! HA!
Hang in there. The photo will blow over. You can always call Mom and talk to her if the shit hits the fan. In the meantime, I’ll monitor all the websites you guys show up on and see if I can run interference. You know, post things anonymously to try to help. I’ve already favorited the local NY gossip sites so I’ve got you covered, GF!
Love you. Miss you.
Melissa’s mom owned a successful boutique publicity firm in Los Angeles. She maintained an exclusive group of big-name clientele, but always made sure to keep that small business feel. Inadvertently I’d learned a lot from her over the years just by overhearing her business meetings and phone calls. This sort of thing was right up her alley, and I knew she’d be more than happy to help me if it got to that point.
Please, dear God, don’t let it get to that point.
I hit the Reply button and quickly typed out a response before handling my daily duties.
Meli,
That picture was in the paper this morning. The actual PRINTED version! And they printed my name, but just my first name, thank God. I’m so freaking embarrassed, but what can I do, right?! Ugh. I will definitely call Mom if things get out of control, but I’m going to work on being more aware of my surroundings from now on. Hopefully they won’t have anything to print of me going forward, unless it’s my face wearing a big-ass, shit-eating grin. :) Call you soon.
xoxo
My cell phone vibrated as I searched online for upcoming events our readers might be interested in seeing. The magazine printed human-interest stories, with the inclusion of local politics, news, and happenings around the five boroughs. When I started, I mostly handled the research for future issues, but once a week I was assigned a general event to cover and photograph. My bosses never promised me that my photographs would be used, but since I started working here six months ago, they always have.
