by Leigh Lennon
False Start
Leigh Lennon
Contents
False Start
Play List:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
The Quick Snap Novella Collection
A Note to my Readers
What I have learned along the way
Other Books by Leigh Lennon
It Takes a Village!
About the Author
False Start
A Quick Snap Novella
By Leigh Lennon
False Start
Copyright @2020 Leigh Lennon and Lady Boss Press
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.
The E-book copy is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be re-sold or given away.
This book is a work of fiction and is the product of the author’s imagination.
Editing by Jenny Sim
Proofreading services Deaton Author Services
Content Editing by Ashley Cestra
Cover Design by Kari March Designs
Published by: Lady Boss Press, Inc.
Beta Readers: Kelly Green, Nancy George and Rebecca Berland, Megan Harris.
To Auden:
Thanks for being my person in this world!
To Mom
It doesn’t matter how long you’re gone,
I’m still not used to being in this world without you.
My books would have made you blush,
but I know you would have been my #1 fan,
as you always were!
I will miss you forever!
Play List:
Ashley McBryde: “What If We Don’t”
Green Day: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
Halsey: “Bad at Love”
Justin Timberlake: “What Goes Around…/…Comes Around”
Justin Timberlake (feat. Chris Stapleton): “Say Something”
Limp Bizkit: “Behind Blue Eyes”
One Direction: “Night Changes”
Panic! At The Disco: “I Write Sins Not Tragedies”
Pink (feat. Nate Ruess): “Just Give Me a Reason”
Ruth B.: “Lost Boy”
Taylor Swift: “Mean”
Thomas Rhett (feat. Maren Morris): “Craving You”
Timbaland (feat. OneRepublic): “Apologize”
Prologue
Leela
Age 14
“Leleeta, Leleeta, pudding in pie, had a stupid birthmark and then wanted to die.”
Are we in kindergarten? These taunts by the fourteen-year-old man child behind me only cement my reasons for attending the private Catholic school next year. He’s been a pain in my ass since the day I first stepped into class, the new student with thick glasses and out of control frizzy black hair.
My sister, Venezia, has kicked him in the balls a couple of times already after hearing his criticism and insults.
“You better watch out,” one of his cronies I don’t care to remember calls out. “Her sister will kick you again. And it’s her little sister to boot.”
Keeping my head stationary, I maintain my gaze forward, quadratic equations being the only reason I don’t take my math book and slam it on his fingers.
“Do you know why you have a birthmark that looks like a broken heart?” he asks, and coming from Kieran O’Hennessy, I have no idea what he may say.
Ignoring him doesn’t end the incessant ridicules. “It’s because no one will ever love you and your thick, nerdy ways. You’ll always stay heartbroken and alone.”
He won’t break my spirit, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction. This last statement can’t be the reason he finally causes me to break. Math doesn’t have my attention anymore, and the only thing I continue to concentrate on is my restraint not to let him see me cry.
Kier
Age 26
The owner is a large son of a bitch. Flanked on either side of him are the general manager and the coach. The other person in the room is the team's publicist, and he’s just lurking behind me, giving me the creeps.
This isn’t good—not at all—and after three hours in a cold and dank jail cell, this is the last place I wanted to end up. When bail had finally been posted, the owner’s car picked me up and drove me to the front offices.
I’d been number one in the draft five years ago, and my entire career has been in New York. I love the city; everything has been a dream. Well, besides my name in the newspapers more than anyone would like in regard to my unruly behavior.
The paper gets thrown over my shoulder onto the conference table, thanks to the PR creeper still standing behind me. I’d been arrested late last night, yet my name always makes the morning front page.
“You’ve been warned more than once, O’Hennessey. And we can’t keep cleaning up your mess. Your contract was clear. And because of this, we can cut you.” The owner’s vein above his glasses pulses, and I worry about his health. Yeah, I’m not taking this seriously. I’ve heard all this before.
I’m waiting for the GM or the coach to come to my rescue, stating the obvious about my stellar game—my numbers being the reason to keep me. No one is better than I am. I’m the best running back since Barry Sanders, and we all know it. My gaze stays on all three men, waiting for another warning, but it never comes.
Chapter 1
Kier
Eighteen months later
I haven’t been able to sleep, and at four a.m., I stroll out of bed, pumped for a second chance. It’s the first practice of the year. We’re back. I’m back. Being cut by my team last year had been rough, and no one had been willing to take a chance on me.
After six months, I was still unemployed. The preseason started without a team signing me. One week before the regular season games began, a team approached me with a list of demands. I jumped at my last opportunity. And I’d be less than three hours from home. My mother could get to me and kick my ass if I messed up again.
I didn’t care about the conditions I agreed to because I love the game more than my party ways. After taking a long look at myself, I knew I needed to change. The probationary clause in the contract meant I wouldn’t be given a second chance. Plus, they knew I was desperate, so I signed for a fraction of what I’d made in New York. After just one more year of keeping my nose clean, I could move to a better contract with a better paycheck.
My new routine and the new man I’ve become are no joke. No one believes me after my endless amount of arrests and drunken displays in the past, but this is all I know. Threaten to take a person’s only reason for living away, and it makes them, or at least me, re-evaluate moving forward.
I’ve not been late, not once. I don’t mouth off, and I keep my head down. I’m here to play the game. The veteran quarterback, who happens to be the captain, isn’t messing around with me, and he made that clear from the first time
I stepped into the locker room. Will
Montgomery’s belief in me has been one of the reasons I’ve been able to walk into the stadium to many boos, hisses, and catcalls.
Practice may not begin for several hours, but I usually arrive before the sun comes up. I spend that time in the locker room studying videos, playbooks, and various other resources to improve my game. Plus, it gives me an hour or more to hit the weights.
My phone is in my hand as the early morning text scares me. Though no one can hear me in my downtown Seattle condo, I laugh out loud. I open the text from Will, who I had just seen yesterday at the hospital.
Many of the men on the team volunteer at the children’s hospital where his wife works. I do it without the hoopla of the press. The children are dealing with shit no child should ever have to worry about. The kids love me, but the fans in Seattle not so much.
Will: I know you wanted to keep a low profile, but Becky in PR found out about you joining us at the children’s hospital. She’s leaked it to the press to help your bad boy persona.
Fuck Becky. She’s been assigned to me to improve my image. Many men have publicists, but I’m the only one who’s been assigned one by the team. I know sales are lower because of me. Everyone is still disgusted by the playboy from New York being given a chance to play in Seattle.
When I had asked Will almost a year ago if I could tag along with some of the veteran players, he warned me not to use it as a PR stunt. His wife is the charge nurse, and he’ll protect the kids, along with the love of his life. It had never been a blip on my radar. It’s time to atone for the fucker I used to be. This is personal, not professional, and not for others to know.
I pick up the phone, shooting off a text.
Me: Oh, shit. I didn’t have anything to do with it.
I was stupid at twenty-one—young and obsessed with having everything I never had growing up. However, with hindsight being 20/20, I realize now, I did have so much. I have a family who loves me despite putting them through hell, a God-given talent, and a drive to continue to make my dream of playing ball a realization.
Will: I know, kid. I know how much you adore all the children there. I know your heart is in the right place, and you never wanted this to reach the press. I have a call in with the GM today, and we can discuss this. She should have never come after your personal life.
The upbeat temperament I’d woken up with is gone, and an ambiance of irritation and fury that will most likely follow me the rest of the day has replaced it.
“It’s bullshit, is what it is.” I don’t raise my voice, but Will steps in front of me at what the general manager attempts to explain.
“Sir, what Kier is trying to say is that he has a right to a private life.” I’ve been what Will needs of me in a running back, having just shy of the record for the year at eighteen touchdowns. So, right now, he has my back.
“I understand what all of you were doing, and from now on, Becky has explicit instructions to confer with Mr. O’Hennessey before she goes rogue. However, that doesn’t negate what she’s worked out for him, and the team, to hopefully improve his image.”
Of course, there’s more. Becky sees me as a stepping-stone. She’s continually yipping at me like a chihuahua.
“She’s worked out an interest piece with the local news station. And it’s with an up-and-coming national broadcaster. She’ll follow you around and get a read on the changes you’ve made.”
“Wait.” I sense the tightness with the tic in my jaw. With the information the GM has just thrown at me, my voice isn’t controlled like before.
“No, you wait, Mr. O’Hennessey. We took a chance on you, and hell, you’ve done your job, but you lost a lot of support. Our fans aren’t invested in you, and if they aren’t invested, we suffer. When we signed you, you promised to do what we asked, and we’ve tried to let your record speak for itself. So here is the thing—we’re doing this. No ifs, ands, or buts. Plus, you’ll sit down with Becky. You haven’t made it easy for her, and maybe it’s one reason she decided to leak your volunteer service to the news. You’ll listen to her ideas, and you’ll make this work.”
The GM’s eyes swing to Will’s, and I know I’ve lost. I can’t argue with him, and when my QB grabs my shoulder, it’s his sign that I’m beat, and everyone in the room knows it.
Chapter 2
Leela
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Marcel?” My silver fox of a boss is more like an older brother to me than a simple boss. I’m given grace in my reaction when he tells me what my next assignment is.
“Leela, are you fucking kidding me?” His low chuckle isn’t the same nor does it compare to my attitude. His smile doesn’t falter. “I don’t get it, Lee, you’re up and coming. People are crazy over you. After covering the Strickland murders, all the national news stations have you in their view. You’re the next Savannah Guthrie. So, you tell me why you aren’t jumping up and down, and kissing my ass for such a wonderful opportunity. Connie Weston is salivating over this assignment.”
Connie Weston always gets my leftovers. She’s always the bridesmaid and never the bride in the world of our business. She’s also a cunning bitch who’d stab me with an actual knife if given the chance.
With raised brows, he points at the seat in front of his desk, and I sit down. His stare stays on me, but I ping-pong my gaze around the room to look anywhere but directly at him.
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my hands, surrendering to my boss and friend. “I have history with that shit bag. And quite honestly, I don’t know if I can be impartial.”
His elbows rest on his desk as he sets his chin on his hands. “So it’s a good thing you’re a reporter and have learned over the years to be impartial and push your own feelings away.”
I lean my head back, a growl escaping my mouth. “And this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I mean, Marcel, this guy is a menace to society, and we’re giving him more exposure?”
Marcel sits up in his chair in a posture I’m familiar with, as he’s about to impart one of his pep talks. “I believe in you, Leela. As anchors, we aren’t always given what we want to do. But he’s kept his head down, and hell, he’s been volunteering at the children’s hospital for almost a year. He deserves a second chance.”
“It’s a PR stunt, old man. You’re too trusting,” I tease, and I’m glad I work in this relaxed environment where I can clown around with my boss.
“I don’t think that’s the case. If it were, there’d be cameras there every week. From my understanding, Will Montgomery is very protective of his time at the hospital.”
This, I do know. We’ve tried to follow Will into the hospital before, and he’s shut us the fuck down. Marcel may have a point, but I don’t believe for one minute this playboy has changed. And in the end, I don’t have a choice. I’ll have to pull up my big girl panties and be a fucking adult.
“You’re home early.” Zia’s on the couch, reading with a blanket over her, a cup of coffee on the end table, and her French bulldog, Poppy, snuggled up next to her. She never sleeps after a shift and tries to stay awake to keep to some sort of schedule.
“Ugh! You’ll never believe what story I’ve just been assigned.” Ambling over to my sister, I sit at the end of the couch. She puts her feet over my lap, and Poppy trots over to me.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she teases.
“Ah, shit, Sis. How was your shift?” I never sleep well on her nights at the fire station. I wouldn’t have picked this job for my sister—who happens to be my best friend, too—but it’s all she’s ever wanted.
“It was uneventful.” This is how she always answers me because she understands how I worry. “So tell me what has you all worked up, Leelee.” She has never called me Leleeta. My mother had picked two unique Italian names for my sister and me, and she insisted we’d never have nicknames.
Plus, she used her maiden name. Leleeta Adriana Grimaldi-Cesarea had always been a tongue twister. Both Zia and I dropped G
rimaldi after high school. Zia has called me Leelee since she could speak, and I’ve shortened her name from Venezia to simply Zia.
“Fucking Kieran O’Hennessey. They want me to do a puff piece on the man. I have to find some way to make him look good. And how the hell can I make him look good? He’s done a great job of making himself look like an ass.”
Her reaction isn’t what I expect from my very protective, overbearing sister when she begins to howl, holding her side. Her laughter startles both her dog and me. “First, I know he’s an ass, but you won’t have any problem making him look good. The man is certainly what you could call sex on a stick.” Her cackles continue. “Fuck, this is the funniest thing I’ve heard. Karma is a bitch.” I swat at her feet, and this only makes her laugh harder. “Do you want me to come with you to kick him in the balls like I used to when we were kids?”
A tear threatens to fall from my eyes, and she knows me too well. She understands how his incessant torture affected me for years after we parted ways. Zia sits up, offering me her embrace. “I’m sorry. That asshole, I forget how he tormented you. However, you aren’t the same girl you were back then.”
The problem is, I’m exactly that same girl on the inside. “What you mean to say, Zia, is I don’t look like the same person.”
