Anatomy of a Player (Taking Shots #2)

by Cindi Madsen

  • Scars: Stories you can trace with your fingers. If approached at the right time, players may even tell you the stories behind them. It’s true chicks dig scars, and this chick is no exception.

  • As for the rest of his anatomy… A lady never tells. But let’s just say he knows how to use it.

  Of course I wouldn’t actually put that in a professional article I was submitting, but it was fun tinkering with it. While I’d always enjoyed sex, no one had ever taken care of me quite so thoroughly. My past guys always seemed to be in a rush to get to the sex part, and there’d been times I’d had to help out, but with Hudson there’d been no rushing, and I certainly didn’t have to help him.

  Honestly, the only thing I could think about was when we were going to get to do it all again.

  My phone chimed, and when I picked it up, I saw that Will had sent another text. Last night he’d texted me to say he’d found something. Now he was telling me to get my “arse” down to the office, so he could show me what he’d dug up.

  Ugh, I guess I should go face my article and figure out what I’m going to do about it. Lindsay would seriously want to murder me if I told her I wasn’t writing it, and I really hated to disappoint her, but I was toying with abandoning it all the same. How could I write such a scathing commentary about hockey players when I was totally in love with one?

  Hudson aside, there were his teammates to think about. Beck, who took care of Lyla, not to mention his sisters, and had been awesome to me while I’d been third-wheeling it with him and Lyla.

  Dane had been nice to me, too, and he and Hudson were practically brothers. In fact, Hudson had referred to the entire team as his family. He deserved a good one after the one he’d been born into was so awful.

  I thought about how he’d been sliced by broken glass and had to take care of it himself. I could tell he hadn’t even considered calling his mom, which spoke to how unreliable she was. Even mine would show up if I were bleeding.

  Then there was the mess with her fiancé—I couldn’t blame Hudson for not wanting the wedding to happen. I didn’t understand how his mama could do that to him. How she could take it a step further, even, asking him to give her away to that jerk.

  Last night I’d tried to convince myself that I could still go through with the article, and that Hudson wouldn’t mind, because he’d said we could disagree.

  But this wasn’t disagreeing, it was exposing his family. It’d be like someone writing an article that slammed my daddy and divulged every one of his worst qualities, without mentioning any of the good ones. Would I forgive them?

  Probably not.

  I texted Will that I’d be there in about an hour, then I jumped through the shower and debated my clothing options, looking from my dress pants to my favorite pair of jeans. I grabbed the jeans and tugged them on, deciding I was going to dress more like me for tonight’s hockey game. Nothing said a sports reporter couldn’t rock a little pink-and-sparkly, or wear her hair down.

  It was nice to feel like I could be myself and still do my job, even if I might not have a position at the Heights after I finished telling Lindsay that I couldn’t write the article she wanted.

  …

  Trepidation replaced my determination as I climbed the stairs to the newsroom. The door suddenly weighed about a hundred pounds and took every ounce of effort I had to open. My feet bolted themselves to the floor. I forced one in front of the other, feeling like I was on the way to a firing squad. I guess that was overly dramatic, because at least there wouldn’t be a line of men with guns. But there would be firing, I just knew it.

  Will was at his desk, but I didn’t see Lindsay. “Is Lindsay here?”

  “On her way,” Will said. “Now come on, I’ve been waiting for you for forever.”

  Judging by the three empty cups, he was also over-caffeinated. Usually he typed quickly, but he was going warp speed now.

  “I finally found the owner of the email address you gave me.” He pulled up a picture of a guy I’d never seen before. “Calvin Wagner, a second year senior who provides tests for any class you want, for the right price.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, because after you didn’t reply—”

  “I was sleeping,” I said, even though there wasn’t much sleeping for the first half of the night.

  “The news never sleeps,” he said, and I had to suppress an eye roll. He was going to kill me when I told him I didn’t want him to keep digging. How best to break the news to him without raising his suspicions so he’d just let it go?

  I licked my lips. “You know, I think I have enough information without him to—”

  “Anyway, I emailed him from a dummy account and asked if he could get me an upcoming test for my class—well, a class I claimed to be enrolled in. He emailed me back this morning and said he’d sell me the test with the answers for two hundred dollars, with instructions to send the money through PayPal, as well as the promise that I’d have the test within twenty-four hours of receiving the payment.

  “Once he replied to my email, I was in. Here’s a list of people who’ve emailed him in the past few weeks.” Will clicked his mouse, and a spreadsheet filled the screen.

  “Whoa.” I wanted the information far away from me, but at the same time, I couldn’t not look closer. I studied the emails and corresponding names, my heart sinking at the second one from the top.

  Dane Kowalski – hockey player

  “Shit,” I said, my hands trembling now. A month ago they’d have been trembling with enthusiasm over finding a scoop like this. Now they were trembling for other reasons, reasons I couldn’t even name, but they definitely didn’t feel like excitement.

  “I know! Can you believe it?”

  The list went on and on. Mixed in were other students, hockey and football players, and one labeled “just his mom.” I was terrified I’d see Hudson’s name in there, but I didn’t. There were, however, more unidentified email addresses running down the page.

  “I haven’t sorted through all the emails yet, and some didn’t have names attached, so they’ll need more digging.”

  I looked at Dane’s name again. For all I knew, an email from Hudson was somewhere in the mess, too. The entire thing sent a sick heaviness tumbling through me, infecting every organ it touched.

  “You can’t be sure every person paid once they found out how much it was, though,” I said. “Or that they even used the information.”

  “No, not unless they said so in their emails. But all we need is enough proof to take it to the higher ups and they can deal with it. Telling them how we got the info gets tricky, since how I obtained it is slightly…”

  “Illegal?”

  “I was going to go with ‘frowned upon,’” Will said. “If I track him enough, though, I’ll find a way to catch him red-handed, don’t you worry.”

  Was it bad to hope he couldn’t?

  Will nudged my leg. “Where are my cheers? Smile, at least! This is the kind of article with the potential to go national, like all those other scandals Lindsay’s been rattling on about—she’s going to flip out when we tell her about this.”

  “Can we not…tell her?”

  Will’s fingers froze, and he slowly swiveled his chair to face me. “Come again?”

  “I want to check out a few things first. I don’t want to ruin these people’s lives before we have all the facts. Just hold off telling her for a little while.”

  “I don’t know, Whitney.”

  Panic beat at my senses, and I struggled to find the right words to stop the freight train I’d started but needed desperately to stop. “Think about it. This doesn’t really tie directly into my story. This isn’t the college giving athletes preferential treatment. It’s a different story entirely.”

  “Unless we expose it and the regular students get a harsher punishment than the athletes.”

  “That’s really reaching, Will. And this could land us both in huge trouble.”

  His should
ers slumped. “I know. I was so excited to crack it, though, and I’ve done all this work… I’m going to keep poking around to see if there’s a way to find proof in a more legal manner, but I’ll hold off on telling Lindsay.”

  “Thanks.”

  Maybe if I dropped the entire story, he’d stop. That was probably wishful thinking, but I was wishing for it anyway. I didn’t want to ruin a bunch of students’ lives. I didn’t like cheating, either, but I knew the pressure a lot of students were under. I’d felt that desperation after receiving a bad grade in a class. I was starting to feel like being a journalist meant dragging everyone down. Where were the stories with true corruption and evil? Where people were 100 percent bad? That would help ease any guilt over exposing their dirty secrets.

  Lindsay strolled into the room, a big smile on her face. “Morning! Have you two seen what’s going on?”

  I looked at Will and he looked back, and if I appeared anywhere near as guilty as he did, we were screwed.

  “A bunch of students are picketing in front of the dean’s offices, demanding equal treatment.” Lindsay tapped my shoulder. “You started this.”

  Man, I really wanted to stop getting credit for these kinds of things. The comments online had grown out of control within a day; I could only imagine what would happen if a bunch of athletes went down there and a physical fight broke out. “Have the police been informed? In case it gets violent?”

  “Just campus security for now,” Lindsay said. “I’m going to head down there in a few so I can cover it for Monday’s edition, right alongside your article. Are you almost done?”

  “About that…”

  For the first time, she took a good look at me. She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you look all…verklempt?”

  If anything I was more disconcerted. Or guilt-ridden. Okay, I was a hot mess.

  “Uh-oh,” Lindsay said. She jerked her head toward her desk. “Follow me.”

  I did as instructed, glad it was far enough from Will’s that he wouldn’t hear what I said—he’d tell her about the emails and cheating for sure. She set down her coffee and perched on the edge of her desk so that she faced me. “Start talking.”

  “I don’t want to turn all the students against each other,” I said. “That was never my goal. The comments on the survey are horrible and now people are protesting? It’s getting out of control.”

  “You created a stir—it’s a good thing. It might mean the higher ups will try to hide a bit more, but we’re ready to go public. Just you wait till your article comes out, then you’ll see how fired up people get.”

  “That’s the thing. I’m…” Come on, Whitney, force it out. “I’m not sure I want to go public anymore. I don’t want part of the student body to hate the other half. Wasn’t this supposed to get better after high school?”

  “That’s the problem. It’s supposed to be better, but it’s the same shit, different school. That’s why we need to point it out as many times as it takes for people to listen and finally turn things around.” I could practically see the frustration wafting off her. “Come on, you were just as mad about the unfairness of it all when you started digging into this story. What happened between then and now?”

  The better question was who happened. The answer was just over six feet tall, had deep brown eyes, held me tight when I spilled secrets, and told me I was perfect when I needed to hear it most.

  I ran a hand through my hair, and, after so long without being able to, I welcomed the familiarity of it. The soothing sensation didn’t last for long, because Lindsay was staring at me, so intently that I became self-conscious of every twitching muscle and breath I took. “I’m not even sure if I have enough information to prove our theory. I’ve seen both sides, and it’s not as black and white as you want me to make it.”

  Lindsay grabbed my elbow and marched me to a secluded corner of the room, right next to the neglected fake tree that was so dusty it looked more brown than green. If she planned on dragging me out of sight to murder me, this just got more like a firing squad than I’d originally imagined.

  “Tell me which one of those smug bastards got to you,” Lindsay said.

  “This has nothing to do with the hockey players—”

  “Ah-ha! I didn’t even say hockey players.” She leaned closer, her narrowed eyes information-seeking missiles.

  I kept my face as neutral as I could, my invaded personal space making it more difficult. “You didn’t have to. Clearly I’ve been spending a lot of time with them. It’s hard to report on hockey without being around the players.”

  She tightened her grip on my arm and jostled it. “You told me you weren’t one of those dumb blondes who’d fall for a hockey player and give up everything she believed in.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  Lindsay’s sharp gaze bored into me—if the editor gig didn’t work out, she should go into interrogative police work. I wanted to confess everything, even as I clamped my lips to hold it in. “You give this up for a guy, and you prove Professor Jessup was right,” she said. “You prove that athletes get special treatment, not only from the faculty, but from students, too.”

  “Why are you so passionate about this? What happened to you that makes this so important?”

  She glanced away instead of insisting she didn’t have a personal stake in the matter, which surprised me. I thought she’d give me a speech on journalist integrity, or how people deserve truth and justice. Then she slowly looked back at me—I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was changed about her, only that everything had.

  “I don’t like admitting this… I thought I was above it.” She finally let go of me and instead of being grateful for the returning blood flow, my arm sent stabbing pain through it with each fresh pump. “Do you know why I picked you for this story?”

  “Because I knew about hockey?”

  She laughed full-out, enough that Will craned his neck. I could only imagine how we looked, two girls crammed in a tiny corner with a sneeze-inducing fake tree. He seemed to realize there was more crazy going on than he wanted to deal with, and returned his attention to his computer.

  “You remember that first article you pitched me?” she asked. “The one about college guys?”

  “Yeeaah. Do you want me to write that instead?” I could do that easily enough. It would include some of my thoughts from “Anatomy of a Player”—of course, that one also involved Hudson. But he’d understand that far more than an article slamming athletes, especially with so much focus on the hockey team in particular. He’d probably even find it funny, and the fact that we were now together would show that I didn’t think that way anymore. You simply had to find the right college guy, the one who saw the real you and fit like your favorite pair of jeans, like he was made just for you.

  Lindsay’s features softened, revealing a side of her I’d never seen. “The truth is, I’d love to put out an article like that, because I’ve felt that frustration. I could see how much you believed in it, and that you’d been hurt before by guys who’d lied to you and fooled you into thinking they cared about you.

  “I saw that passion, and I thought, she’ll fight for the cause of the people. She’s given up on guys and relationships like I have, so she won’t fall for some jock’s lies and abandon the story. She won’t be like the last guy who started the job but clearly had a case of hero worship within a week.”

  I’d always wanted to fight for those causes I believed in. I wanted to expose wrongdoing and to make people think. But the angry comments and protesting made me think all I’d accomplished was making people fight when there’d been peace. Lindsay seemed set on punishment, and while there’d been brief mentions of the football and basketball teams, clearly her main target was the hockey team.

  “You’ve got a grudge against the hockey team,” I said. “Why?”

  Lindsay sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Last year, I was the girl in the stands cheering for them. I showed up at all the parties, an
d I flirted with the guy I’d been crushing on for weeks. He told me that he couldn’t get serious because hockey came first.”

  Suddenly I couldn’t swallow.

  “I was stupid enough to sleep with him anyway. I thought I could change his mind once he got to know me. He said all the right things. He called me beautiful, told me I was different from the other girls…”

  My neck prickled in recognition. But it was just because I’d been played before by guys like the one she was describing. Every player on the team put hockey first. I was sure they’d all charmed their fair share of girls. In some aspects, yes, it was similar to my experience with Hudson, but it was different, because now we had a committed relationship—he’d said so, no making me guess.

  “I thought I was better than those puck bunnies—I was there because he wanted me there, not to just score with whichever hockey player would take me.” Lindsay’s voice went completely flat, in that forced way that said otherwise too much emotion would spill out with the words. “But then one night I surprised him at his place, and he had another girl there. He acted so confused that I’d be mad. After all, he’d told me he didn’t date. But it was painfully clear I’d been played.”

  Her emotionless facade broke and pain flickered through her features. “Clear he’d never cared about me. I was so stupid to think I’d be different.”

  I patted her shoulder, because I didn’t think we were quite at the hugging level of friendship. Before now, I would’ve guessed she was too tough to be hurt by anyone, much less a guy. “I’ve been there. We’ve all fallen for the charming guy, only to find he was a total asshole. I was there not two months ago.”

  Which was why I’d sworn off guys. But then Hudson happened, and I couldn’t bring myself to regret it, even though he so wasn’t part of the plan.

  “I fell so hard and fast, even though I knew better, and here I am, several months later, still not quite over it.” A tear escaped and ran down Lindsay’s cheek. She quickly swiped it away and sniffed. “Damn it. I swore I’d never shed another tear over Hudson Decker.”