Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats)

by Jeanette Murray

  “Poehler, let’s get this over with,” Coach Jordan growled. “I’ve got a game to prep my players for, including this player right here.”

  “This player needs a lesson in how doors lock,” Simon shot back, then sighed. “Yes, right. So I’ve studied the video several times. Definitely a cell phone shot and raw. No editing that I can see. It was uploaded to what appears to be a teen’s Instagram page, and though I haven’t had the time to investigate as deeply as I’d like, I would say the account is real. It dates back over two years. That’s a long time to set up for a punch if it were fake.”

  “A teenager?” That took Michael by surprise. When Sawyer had mentioned that, he’d thought it was a fake profile. “What the hell would a teen be doing uploading that kind of crap?”

  “If what is on her—definitely a female—profile is accurate, she was likely at the tennis center for lessons. Seems she’s homeschooled, plays tennis and swims, and has an inexplicable love for One Direction.” Simon shuddered. “Taste is subjective, I suppose.”

  “Where does this leave us?”

  “Well, as the video—less than fifteen seconds, thank God—shows you fully clothed, in what is clearly a private area given the video also shows the door opening and closing, we could be worse.”

  Could be worse could also mean a million things. “Plain speak, please.”

  “You’re in the clear.” Simon sat back, nodding his own agreement to his statement. Smug bastard. “Your face isn’t shown, though it won’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who you are. But you’re simply kissing a pretty girl behind what should have been a locked door. While a little embarrassing—I’ll use the word ‘chagrined’ in print communication, it’s more likeable—it’s not a big deal for you. We’ll treat it as such, and move on.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, and Coach Jordan nodded before slapping his shoulder. “I’m heading to my meeting with special teams. Finish up and get back to where you’re supposed to be. We’ve got a game to win tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Coach.” He waited for the older man to leave, then turned back to Simon. “You said for you.”

  “Hmm?” Simon was busy scribbling on a pad of paper, apparently ready to tune him out.

  “You said, ‘It’s not a big deal for you.’ Meaning me. Does this mean it’s a big deal for Kat?”

  “Oh.” Setting the pencil down, Simon studied him for a moment. “You’re intent on this one, are you?”

  “If you’re asking if I’m in love, yes.” God, that felt good to say out loud. “So what happens to her still affects me. If you were hoping to give up caring what happened to her, don’t. She needs help too.”

  “Yes, she does.” Simon sighed. “Look, Michael, I won’t lie, her past will come back to bite her on this one. She’s set herself up for a rocky go of it. Not impossible but not ideal either.”

  Rocky wasn’t worrying to him. He’d conquered adversity before, he’d do it again for her. A hundred times. Thousand.

  “I’ll tell you the biggest play will be to stand beside her. Unlike last time—”

  “What do you know about last time?”

  Simon gave him a look that asked, were you dropped on your head as a baby? “When one of our starters begins hanging around publicly with a notorious person, I start researching. It’s my job, if you recall. Anyway, unlike last time, where the other person involved in the video immediately bolted from her and made it sound like he was a victim of a con artist, you’re standing beside her, saying you believe she had nothing to do with it.”

  “Because she didn’t.”

  “Great. You can say it with conviction.”

  “Because it’s true.” Michael’s gauze-wrapped hand clenched, and he hissed at the reminder of the pain. “Drop the PR speak, Simon. She didn’t do it. That’s the end of that.”

  “Most likely, you’re right. So we’ll go with that angle.”

  Simon was just doing his job, but Michael began to wonder if he could still perform his duties without his head attached to his body.

  “We won’t wait for someone to find out. We’ll cut it off at the pass. Post an informal video of you and her together, speaking directly to the fans about it. That it was a violation of your privacy, that it was an unfortunate situation to be caught up in, that you hope others can use this as a lesson about what uploading videos of people you don’t know can do to another person’s life… play it from the mentoring angle. Make it seem as if it’s aimed more toward high school and college kids since that’s the best odds of who uploaded the video to begin with, and who struggle with proper social media behavior.”

  Make it a mentoring thing. That, Michael could get behind. Simon was good, Michael had to admit. Hitting him right where it counted. “Right. So, when do we do this?”

  “I’ll have Kat flown in this afternoon. We can do the video tonight, have it uploaded pretty soon afterward. I don’t want it to seem glossy and edited. I want it fresh, real. You kick some ass on the gridiron tomorrow afternoon, and the odds are it’s forgotten from your life before next week.”

  “And Kat’s life?”

  “Don’t push. She’s got a different situation and a different past. I’ll help, but she’s not part of my job. You’d do best to find someone freelance to work with you on that side of things. I’ll give you names.”

  It was the best he could hope for. Michael shook Simon’s hand and started calling Kat even as he left the small conference room in order to find the assistant with their schedules for the weekend.

  “Hello?”

  “Kat,” he breathed, feeling whole again just hearing her voice. “Where are you? Are you at home?”

  “No. I packed up and—”

  “Don’t leave,” he barked out, then realized he’d scared a lobby full of people. The desk clerks froze, a mother pushed her small child behind her legs for protection. With a grimace, he ducked into an alcove and lowered his voice. “We’ll fix this, Kat. Please, don’t leave.”

  “I’m not leaving. I was about to say I packed up and came to Gary’s place in case. The lawyer suggested I duck out of the apartment for the time being.”

  The vise crushing his chest instantly let up, giving him much needed relief. “Thank God.”

  “Michael… what’s going on?”

  “You’re going to get another call from Simon, our PR guy. He’s putting you on a plane out here. Don’t argue. It’s for the best.”

  “That’s too much.”

  “I need you here, Kat.” He knew, if it were for him, she’d view it differently.

  There was a brief pause. “Oh. Okay.”

  With satisfaction, he smiled. “God, I love you.”

  Silence.

  That was a little deflating, but he pushed on. “He’s got a plan for a video addressing the situation. You and me, together. We’ll use my social media, then push it to yours after it’s finished. No official press conferences. Don’t want to make too much of a big deal about it. We act like it’s a nonstarter. There’s more, but we’ll talk about it when you get here.”

  “You sound confident.”

  “I am. Just… will you trust me?”

  “I do trust you.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Chapter 26

  Sitting beside Michael on a bed was nothing new. Fully clothed, a little less likely but not unusual.

  It was the guy holding a small digital camera, plus three other men and one woman who were standing in the hotel room that really made the experience surreal. Despite having her most intimate moment broadcast for the entire Internet to see before, she’d never had an actual crowd in the bedroom.

  Michael reached over and squeezed her hand. “You nervous?”

  “I’m… a lot of things.” Nervous, guilty, freaked out, guilty… Had she mentioned guilty? “Just want to do whatever’s best for you.”

  “Us.” He pecked her cheek, nuzzling a little. Her face flushed at the realization that people were watching
even if the camera was—they swore—not on yet. “This is what’s best for us. Simon can be a jackass, but he’s good at what he does.”

  “I hadn’t had a chance to run this by Sawyer,” she warned.

  “Sawyer’s not an issue. We’re both getting new representation.”

  That made her blink and pull back. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “He didn’t trust you. Didn’t believe in you.” Michael cupped her cheek. “Baby, that’s not a guy in your corner.”

  Right, well… she’d always suspected that. Fear of the unknown had kept her with the guy and because he was a good negotiator. But… “He’s your agent too, Michael. You’ve had a good run with him.” Something clicked, and she gasped, pain striking her gut. “Oh my God, he dumped you because of me.”

  “No, I dumped him because of how he talked about you. I’m not going to do business with a guy who talks about my girlfriend like that.”

  Her eyes teared up, and she blinked furiously to keep from ruining the makeup the woman had spent twenty minutes on, in an effort to look fresh and naïve. Frankly, she thought that looking fresh and naïve would have required less makeup, but she wasn’t the professional in that regard.

  “Okay.” The man Michael had introduced as Simon, the brainchild behind the video, clapped his hands. “We’re doing this in one take, and remember, ad-libbing is fine, but don’t ramble. We want this to be under ninety seconds. Stats currently show past that time frame, people drop off. We want it to be seen. Stick close to the script, but work on making it feel candid.”

  Kat felt like a bobblehead with her nodding so much. Michael just stroked her back and gave one decisive nod of his own.

  Suddenly she realized just how much trouble he was going through to be with her. To fight against the past she’d suffered through, and the reputation she’d created willfully. And she knew she couldn’t let another minute pass without telling him.

  “And… action.”

  She turned to him, just as he took a breath to speak his opening line, she said, “I love you.”

  That took the wind out of him, and he turned sharply toward her. “What?”

  “Okay, cut.” Simon snorted in disgust. “Five minutes, everyone. Five,” he emphasized toward them on the bed, waving everyone toward the hallway. The door closed behind them.

  And Michael asked again, “What?”

  “I just…” She could dance on a bar top, karaoke with the world watching, and do a samba with a bobcat… but she couldn’t look him in the eye for all the gold in the national Treasury. Picking at the bedspread, she said, “I had to tell you before we started the video. I love you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, not caring that their clothes were wrinkling, that her fresh, naïve makeup was probably smearing over his shirt, that the bedspread was going to look like they’d invited a party of monkeys to roll around on it.

  “Thank God,” he breathed by her ear. “I love you too.”

  “I know. You told me,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, but his arms just tightened around her. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. It just felt weird over the phone, and I needed to see you first.”

  “I get it. I sort of blurted it out before, didn’t I?”

  “I won’t complain. Well, maybe a little,” she added, feeling her lips quirk up on their own. His smile was one of chagrin. “But only when I’m being annoying.”

  “Which is often.”

  “It’s part of my charm,” she argued.

  “Probably. I must be nuts, wanting to be saddled with you,” he murmured.

  “How did this happen so fast?” she asked quietly. “Three weeks…”

  “Lightning hits fast, babe. When it does…” He blew out a breath. “I think love at first sight is a little bogus. But love at first meeting… there’s something to it. I should have known I loved you the first minute I missed your irritating presence.”

  She leaned out and nipped his lower lip for the pseudo-insult. He prodded at the hurt with his tongue, one brow raised in silent, mocking disapproval.

  “You love it.”

  “I love you,” he corrected, kissing her. “I don’t care how fast this happened. I care how long it’s going to last. And baby, this is going the distance.”

  His forehead dropped to hers. Their eyes both closed… then hers popped open again.

  “That… that wasn’t a… You’re not…”

  “Proposing? Hell no. I’m not Josiah. I’m not proposing to my girl in some generic hotel room. Screw that.”

  She laughed, as that was a story she definitely hadn’t heard before. “You’ll have to fill me in on that one later.”

  “Will do.” A knock sounded at the door, wordlessly reminding them about the time. “And the cavalry wants back in. You ready to do this?”

  Kat wiped under her eyes and grimaced when she noticed the black smears that coated her fingers. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to fix this. I doubt a fresh, naïve sort of girl would have raccoon eyes.” A glance at Michael’s shirt made her wince. “And you’ll need to change.”

  Michael sighed dramatically. “Simon’s gonna have a fit.”

  They both laughed, then kissed again before the pounding on the door forced them apart.

  Two weeks after their impromptu videotaping in Los Angeles, Kat sat in her apartment, packing her tennis bag.

  “How is it,” Michael wondered out loud as she searched in another half-open box for a new pair of workout shorts, “that you managed to get your things here, all your things, and you still have nothing to wear? Is this a female thing?”

  “Hush, you.” She swatted at him as she flipped through the next box of clothes. She’d flown back to Florida to pack her apartment, sell her car and the biggest pieces of furniture, and arrange for the things she wanted to take with her to be shipped to her apartment in Santa Fe. She’d taken over the lease on the next door apartment from Sawyer—no longer her agent, which felt odd—and had been shocked when her things had arrived three days early. Boxes sat stacked everywhere around her apartment. She hadn’t been prepared.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a house,” Michael said as she tossed several tank tops out of the box.

  “Oh yeah?” She knew she sounded less than interested, but seriously, she was going to be late for practice. And there was no time for makeup after, because she had back-to-back-to-back lessons. Gary would kill her for wasting good court time. Her head in the last box her workout shorts could possibly be in, she tossed out a few more tops to make searching room.

  “Watch it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and found Michael sitting there, a shelf-supporting tank top dangling from his head as he glared at her.

  Kat fought the snicker, she really did. But it made its way out anyway.

  Michael growled, grabbed for her, and pulled her against him. Kat shrieked and fought to get away, but he held her down and kissed her senseless until the tank top dropped from his head.

  “It was a good look for you,” Kat said as she rubbed the fabric of the tank top between two fingers.

  “Don’t even joke.” He let her up, and she walked back to the box and found her shorts—thank God—under the last layer of shirts.

  “So, you didn’t say what you thought about the idea.”

  “A house?” Shucking her capris, Kat pulled the shorts on and began the hunt for socks. “Sounds nice.”

  “I want you to come with me when I start looking.”

  “Okay.” Not in this box for sure. Maybe… “Were there any boxes with clothing out in the living room?”

  “Kat.” Michael gently circled her wrist and pulled her down to sit in his lap. “Are you reading between the lines here?”

  “I… no.” Blowing out a breath, she shook her head. “I’m too stressed about being late.”

  “I’m asking you to help me house hunt so we can get a place. Together,” he emphasized.

  “Together.” Kat
blinked. “Wow.”

  “Wow good?” he asked hopefully.

  “Wow… wow.” Kat stood, then took in his hurt expression. “Oh no, Michael, I don’t mean that in a bad way. Really, I don’t.” She cupped his face and kissed him. “I just… I’m not ready yet. Not because of you. Definitely not you. I just… I need to get my feet under me. Fully, soundly, without any shaking. I don’t want to use you as a crutch. I need to move to Santa Fe—”

  “Check,” Michael said, looking around her room at the boxes.

  “I need to live alone for a bit, pay my rent, work my new job with Gary, compete in a few tournaments… on my own. I can’t explain why that’s important, but it is. Even if it’s only for a few months, I need it.”

  “As long as you’re not stalling because of us or some concern with what other people will say,” he said grudgingly.

  “Ask me again after your season is over.” She kissed his brow and felt the skin smooth out under her lips as he relaxed. “Better yet, ask after I come back from the Australian Open. There’s a lovely lull there between the Australian and French Opens. That would be ideal for moving lots of big boxes.”

  “I’m asking,” he warned, kissing her one more time. “Don’t think I’m forgetting.”

  “I wouldn’t dream,” she murmured and searched the boxes for her socks.

  Kat twirled her racket on one finger, waiting with Thomas on the court. “We could be serving or something.”

  “We could be, but he asked for you to wait.”

  “I’m being punished for being late.”

  “Probably,” Thomas agreed.

  Kat just grinned at the reminder of exactly why she was late. “It’s not like he could object to some serving practice. That’s me using my time wisely, not wasting it. This is wasting.”

  Thomas merely smiled and shifted weight to the other foot. “When has Gary ever not had a plan even if we didn’t understand it at the time?”

  She grumbled in return but knew it was true. Two days after returning from Los Angeles—having watched Michael and the Bobcats kick some serious Rams ass—Gary had produced with certainty the culprit. One of the homeschooling girls Thomas gave private lessons to had been sneaking around the back offices while waiting for their privates to start. Seems she’d been slowly stripping the empty office of items the last few weeks, as a dare from her fellow tennis partner in crime. Something about the thrill or some form of attention-seeking behavior.