by Kathy Lyons
Gia mimicked my stance, her arms folded across her ample chest. “Remember how Joe said that baseball was about selling tickets.”
“Yes, and the tickets sell if we win.”
“They sell even better when the image is right. When there’s a story the public likes. Then they’ll come if you win or lose.”
I winced. I remembered this conversation with Joe. I remembered thinking then that it was a crock of bull, but Joe obviously believed it. And Gia had the ticket sales to prove her point. The fans did like to build stories around their favorites. “Fine, but I’m not—”
Gia cut me off. “Brittany has built a huge wave of publicity on your date.”
“I didn’t know anything about a date!”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s built it, and you will go.”
I was about to argue when Nico abruptly pushed his phone at me. “It’s your agent,” he said, his voice loud enough to silence anything I was about to say.
“What? Why would Marc be calling on your phone?”
“Because I called him,” Nico said as he pressed the phone to my ear. I had no choice but to grab it from him.
“Marc—”
“Listen, dude, Nico got me up to speed on the situation.” Marc’s California slang bothered me, mostly because he seemed to think that’s the way I spoke. But he was one of the best agents in the business and I’d learned to trust him. Especially when he got me my spectacular deal with the Bobcats.
“There is no situation—”
“Of course not. But you know I’m on your side, right? You know I’ve been around the block a few times and I’ve got the long view here. You want a career at the Bobcats, right?”
“You know I do.”
“Right. That means you’ve got to play ball with them.”
“I am playing ball,” I retorted. “Really well.”
“And I was cheering you on every second. Loved what you did in Chicago, dude.”
“So, dude—”
“But listen,” he cut me off. “I was talking about the publicity thing. We’re building a career image here and you’re the one who wanted to do the clean-cut kid from Nebraska.”
“That was your idea.”
“Pretty sure it was yours, but either way, you’re stuck with it now.”
“Right, so I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“No, you don’t. Because you had that great camera shot of you and Brittany. She’s a gorgeous girl and you played like a dream when she was standing there.”
“I didn’t even notice her there.”
“But the camera did. The audience did. And the Twitterverse certainly did.”
“But—”
“Nico says you’ve got a girl. That she wants to move in with you.”
“I asked her.”
“Doesn’t matter. She can’t. You’ve got to hold her off until you’ve played to the paparazzi for a few dates with Brittany. She’s a one-woman publicity queen and you don’t want to turn her against you. Look, it doesn’t have to be real. Brittany knows how this is done. Go on a few dates. Let her show off some new jewelry, and then let her find someone else. You know she’ll be finished with you by next year.”
“Next year!”
“Yes, next year. This is how it’s done, Rob. You’ve got to listen to me. This other girl, is it love?”
How to answer that? It was so new and, yet, I’d been so sure when I asked her to move in. “Yes, it’s real.”
“If it’s love, she’ll wait. She’ll understand that this is your career. And if she doesn’t, then you’ll know it wasn’t meant to be. Come on, Rob, think. It’s only a few dates. A couple months until the season is over. I’ll make sure the Bobcats pay for the meals. They won’t cover any jewelry. You’ll have to take care of that yourself, but they can pay for the food.”
“No.” I wasn’t going to do that to Heidi. She’d given up her lease. Where was she supposed to live?
Marc blew out a breath loud enough that it sounded like a rumble through the phone. “You have to, Rob. Seriously. Look, I was going to call you and congratulate you on how smoothly you’ve been handling the image thing. National TV, dude. A close-up with you looking lovelorn at Brittany.”
“I wasn’t looking at her!”
“The camera made it seem like you were. And social media has started calling you two Rittany.”
“That’s a terrible name.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t make it up. Brittany knows how to work the fans and she’s damn good at it. Dating her would be just the boost to your career that will keep you as the darling of the team. That’s important in general, but right now it’s crucial. You need this boost, Rob. At least until you establish yourself in the majors.”
Holy hell, what was I going to do? Marc had warned me early that this first season was crucial for setting up my image in sports. And that the right image could take my career to the stratosphere. That’s what he’d said. Stratosphere. As long as I kept playing well, he and the team’s publicity wing would manage the rest.
“I just want to play baseball,” I groused, knowing that I sounded like a child.
“I told you when you first signed with me,” Marc said. “I warned you it wasn’t just about baseball. It was about your image. That’s how I got you such a great deal at the Bobcats. They needed a wholesome boy. If you make Brittany look bad, she can destroy your image. And that will hurt your whole career.”
“I never asked her out.”
Marc snorted. “Like that makes a difference. The media already has you two in bed together.”
“Hell, no!”
“Take it easy. I’m not suggesting you do that. I’m just saying you go out on a few dates. Let the Bobcats pay for your steaks and champagne. What happens after the meal is your business.”
And what the hell did I say to Heidi? How could I explain this to her? After I’d begged her to move in with me. After I’d claimed it would solve all our problems?
“This isn’t right,” I said.
“It’s show business.”
“You mean baseball.”
“Same thing.”
We talked for a few moments longer. Argued, really, but he’d already won. As much as I hated everything about this, I knew that all three of them had a point. I hadn’t just been hired to play baseball. I’d been hired to fit into an image, which was being molded by experts to make me into a media darling. Before Heidi, I hadn’t had a problem with that. But now I felt like the biggest shit on the planet. And I hadn’t even told her yet.
Then I spotted Jake coming in from the field. He was our shortstop and last year’s surprise call-up. The man had great hands and a silver-tongue known for flirting with every female interviewer and fan. He didn’t have the blond hair and blue eyes that I did, and his heritage was Mexican rather than Caucasian golden boy, but his square jaw and short hair gave him a rugged quality that girls seemed to go for. Plus he had been a firefighter before joining the Bobcats, so he had that hero thing going for him.
And even better, he owed me a favor.
Chapter Sixteen
Heidi
Packing up even my tiny apartment took time, but what else was I going to do? I’d been planning on sorting and tossing stuff anyway. But before I could schedule movers, I had to see Rob’s place. I had to figure out where and how we were going to share our space, and he was disturbingly cagey about answering questions. He just kept saying, “Come over Tuesday night. We’ll sort it through then.”
Tuesday was only a day away, but I hated being in limbo. I’d always had something very clear to do with my time: school or work. Searching for outlets that were interested in articles about millennials wasn’t exactly a life plan. Especially since I hadn’t told my parents I wasn’t going to law school. The uncertainty was making me cranky and needy.
I ached to talk to Rob, but he had practice and a publicity thing. So rather than hang on his every word, I took to the internet to hang on his every taped word.
Interviews with Rob, sports coverage about Rob, Twitter gossip about Rob. It was that last that had my hands shaking as I stared at my phone.
Twitter was agog with the coming date between Rob and Brittany DeLuce. Rob had already mentioned it, passing it off as another publicity thing, but it was clear from Brittany’s tweets that for her, it was anything but. She speculated on where he’d take her, had online polls to decide what she should wear, and accepted dating tips, including eating an energy bar before the meal so she didn’t eat too much.
I hated every word she said, and not just because she thought she was dating Rob. Every word was about projecting a false illusion of who she was and a sick obsession with minutia. What woman obsessed about wearing cream shoes after Memorial Day? Should she go with pure white? And what did that say about me as I read every single tweet like it was the key to a Pulitzer?
As a reporter, I wanted to be interested in world events. Global warming, politics, technological breakthroughs, and how we could stop dictators from blowing us up. Instead, I was dissecting tweets two hundred eighty characters at a time and wondering how she could think about having sex with Rob when I was moving in.
So I texted the question to Rob. It only took me an hour to phrase it correctly. How to strike that balance tone between WTF and oh by the way? In the end, it didn’t matter. He didn’t respond for eight mind-breaking hours. Sure, I knew he was in practice and then at some kids’ charity event. I felt small for resenting kids with cancer, but what the hell? Why wasn’t he answering?
Then he called. It was before midnight and he was in a taxi. He sounded exhausted and said four words that reassured me down to my soul.
“I hate that bitch.”
“Then why does she think she’s going on a date with you? Why—”
“I can’t talk right now, Heidi. And I need to shower. Please, can we talk tomorrow night? I swear I’ll explain everything.”
He sounded awful. Exhausted. Defeated. My heart went out to him. And so I offered him something else. “Why don’t you get home, get comfortable, and call me back.”
“It’ll be so late—”
“I’ve got nothing on my schedule. And I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.” I tried to make my voice sultry. “I could even come over—”
“No! Jesus, my place is a mess and…” He sighed. “Heidi, I want to. You have no idea how much. But let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” Then someone said something that I couldn’t make out. I thought it was the taxi driver until Rob’s next words. “Jesus, Nico, I know.”
Nico was there? In the taxi with him? Or maybe Nico was driving. Just how tightly were they keeping control of Rob?
“Hey—” I said, but Rob cut me off.
“Tomorrow night, I swear. But I’ve got to go now.”
Then before I could say more, he cut the connection. I stared at my phone while my gut twisted in anxiety. I knew something was wrong. I knew it deep down, but I shoved it away and thought it would all come clear Tuesday night.
And it did. Starting with the fact that when I showed up at his luxury apartment complex, a really tall brunette squealed, “Heidi!” and bounced over to me. She literally bounced even while wearing three-inch heels. I had no idea who she was, but as she hugged me tight, she whispered into my ear. “Just go with it, kay? I’m Dana.”
“Wow, Dana! That was quite the enthusiastic greeting,” I said when she finally eased off the hug.
“Well, how else am I supposed to greet my long-lost bestie?” Then she tugged on my arm, pulling the tote bag of extra clothing off my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go up.” Then she waved at security and walked me through the glass doors to the elevator bay.
She kept up a string of nonsense throughout the elevator ride up to the twenty-seventh floor and her words didn’t stop until we were all the way down the hall to the last door. Then she stopped and abruptly pointed to an apartment just to the side of the elevator. “That’s me. If you need anything, I’ll be here all night. Just knock.”
Then she handed me back my tote, squeezed my hand, and banged once hard on the door. The door jerked open and I saw Rob there looking stressed. Hell, I’d watched him face a full count and bases loaded with less tightness around his eyes. He didn’t even open the door fully, but pulled me in and flashed a quick smile at my escort.
“I owe you, Dana.”
“Yes, you do,” she retorted, then she strutted away looking like she was walking a runway.
I turned to him as he was shutting the door, but I didn’t even get my first word out. Suddenly he was kissing me, his mouth hard against mine, his body pushing me against the door such that it closed behind me. I resisted at first. His kiss was sudden, and I was off-balance from whatever that was with Dana. But then a moment later, my body relaxed into him. My mouth opened, my arms squeezed his, and my head dropped back for his plunder. Whatever my mind was doing, my body remembered the feel of him, the scent of his body, and the heated way he thrust into my mouth and set my heart racing.
No man had ever taken me from zero to yes, yes, yes! so fast. But even his charisma had limits. And so when we broke apart for breath, I was able to push him away from me. My arms were weak, my breath short, but my words came out gratifyingly strong.
“Talk. Now.”
“I can’t,” he said. “You’ll hate me.”
My stomach knotted, and I clenched my fists against the wall rather than let my panic show. Something awful was coming, but I had to know. Living any more time in limbo wasn’t an option. So I blew out a breath and faced him.
“Let’s have it,” I said.
“You can’t move in.”
To his credit, he didn’t flinch or lie or backtrack. He said the words solidly, and I just stared at him, so much in shock that the words echoed in my brain. Even so, my words spilled out.
“I was fired because I didn’t do an article on you.”
“I know.”
“I sublet my apartment.”
“I know.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I know.”
I’d spoken the words without thought. They just bubbled out of the churning darkness inside. Even the insult was thrown almost casually because I couldn’t fathom that what I was hearing was true. I’d been packing for days. It had been a huge step for me to do this. I was gambling my whole future on taking this time to find a job in journalism. Not to mention the risk of living with a man who might not love me the way I wanted. With rings and kids and Disney vacations.
And now he was saying it was all a joke? That I couldn’t move in at all?
The rage that boiled up inside me was murderous. Like I could absolutely understand killing him. With my bare hands. Instead I kept my voice excruciatingly level and asked a single question.
“Why? And if you say ‘publicity,’ I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
“Brittany. And publicity.”
My eyes narrowed as I noted that he was facing me with his legs slightly spread, his groin open and available for me to inflict massive pain. I nearly did it. I probably would have if I thought I’d stop after one hit. Instead, I bit out an order.
“Start from the beginning.”
He did. But only after leading me to a butter-soft leather couch in front of a huge entertainment center. This was obviously boy decorating. A glance over his shoulder showed me a small kitchen. The rest of the room was done in leather and angled for the video game consoles. I couldn’t help picturing myself here. It wasn’t perfect, but I would have managed. Hell, I wasn’t picky. I would have been happy with a mattress on the floor and my laptop. My needs weren’t about luxury. They were about being with him.
I sat slowly, keeping my thoughts inside. He didn’t settle but started offering me food. He got me water (my choice), then handed me tiny hot dogs wrapped in bacon (his choice).
“I don’t cook a lot, but I made this. And the casserole. And I bought cheesecake for dessert.”
Did he re
ally think I cared? “I’m sure it’s lovely,” I said, my voice flat.
He sighed and sat with me on the couch near enough to touch, but not actually connecting. And then he started talking.
As the daughter of Chinese immigrants, sitting in silence while someone else lectures is a skill I developed young. I didn’t interrupt him. I didn’t argue. I just let him stammer out his apologies and explain his point of view.
The thing is I believed him. There was agony in his voice and he looked like shit. He believed there was no other choice. Baseball was his career and his passion. He had one shot at the majors and he couldn’t screw it up.
If I had to choose between the career of my dreams and moving in with Rob, I don’t think I’d pick him. Certainly not if I could beg him to wait a few months. Just a few weeks and then we could be together.
That’s what he focused on at the end. He went on and on about how he disliked Brittany, but the media had set him up. He had no interest in her, but the Bobcats were making him go on the date. But he had a work-around, he hoped. And even if it didn’t work, their pretend dating would only last this season at the longest.
And then he did the most awful thing. I’d been sitting there and listening to him, feeling his reason and his logic like billiard balls banging around my brain. I heard them, even understood them, but every word felt like a hit to the head. And then he dropped to his knees before me. I saw the emotion in his eyes, the desperate hope that made his eyes sheen and his hands tremble. He touched my clenched fists and said the words I’ve been longing to hear. Words that I’d prayed would come from him soon. But I’d never thought it would happen like this.
“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
I jerked back, pain slamming hard in my torso. I couldn’t speak. Hell, I couldn’t breathe. He’d just said what I’d so longed to hear from him. Way back on spring break, I’d been thinking about love and marriage. But that wasn’t what he was offering. He was saying “love” with his mouth and his body, but he was also kicking me out of his home. The one place I’d convinced myself I would be happy and safe as I explored a future with him.
