In her mind, it sounded a little like: ‘Hey Jackson, you know that picture you have for your life? How about you try me on for size for the mom of your kids?’
But of course, classier and far less insane.
Before she lost all the fearlessness that was still pumping in her veins from that one-way ticket she’d just ridden away from her past, Leila dialed his number.
“H’lo?”
“Jackson?”
Pause. “Hi Leila.”
He sounded…weird.
“Is everything okay? You sound…different.”
“Leila, we’ve been trying to reach you. We need you to come in to the office right now. Are you already at the airport? Do you need a ride over here?”
“No, I have my car.” She blinked, startled. “Wait a minute, how did you know I was back?”
***
Jackson pulled the phone away from his ear again and shut his eyes for a beat, needing a moment. When he looked back at his phone, he checked the ridiculous thrill he got over seeing Leila’s face on the screen. It was a grainy black and white company photo that had auto-filled as the caller I.D. image for her number.
And he’d stared at it more times than he could count over the weekend.
Funny how much can change in a few short hours.
“Hello?” called out Leila into the silence, clear concern shading her voice.
“Leila, have you not checked your phone or the internet for the past few hours?
“Why do you keep doing that?” She sounded confused, a little alarmed even.
Frowning, he asked, “Doing what?”
“You keep calling me Leila. Why?”
Irony of ironies. He checked the impulse to say her name again to force himself to keep his focus on the problem at hand, and the needed distance between them as they dealt with that problem. Interpersonal business communications 101 on keeping things strictly business.
He needed to do it. Because if his life had been merely complicated before, it would become cataclysmic if he didn’t protect it from the devastation that a verified betrayal on Leila’s part would bring.
So he stayed the course, to protect his…life.
Instead of answering her question, he simply said, “Leila, we’ll be here waiting for you. In the meantime, I suggest you google your name and your ex’s before you get here. There’s…another video.”
And with that, he murmured a quiet goodbye and held silent until she hung up, not able to hang up on her regardless of what she may or may not have done.
He reentered the conference room shortly after to rejoin the five grim, corporate faces looking at him expectantly.
“Was that her?” asked Lloyd.
“Yes. She’s coming from the airport. She should be here in a half an hour.”
“Well, then let’s figure out our next move.” The network legal head pulled out his laptop to begin taking notes.
“How the hell did a gambling site get into our house without us knowing?” asked Perry, the head of Public Relations.
“It’s not a gambling site,” clarified Jackson sharply. “The site Leila is running is an NFL and college ‘locks’ and ‘picks’ site. No betting takes place. She simply makes calculated determinations on game winners for straight-up gamblers and other picks for those who do fantasy football.”
The head of legal looked optimistic. “So no money’s involved.”
“No, there’s gambling,” he replied. “But there is money. Leila has some free ‘locks’ of the week—easy winners or a no-lose bet—but the rest of her picks are essentially strongly-researched recommendations that gamblers use to help them make their bets. She charges for her picks by tiered monthly subscription, along with one-time purchases and customizable packages. According to her site, she handles everything from point spreads to estimated yardage for those that play the smaller fantasy football leagues. And she also does higher-priced individual reports for more specific or difficult picks for high rollers.”
“What kind of money are we talking?” asked Lloyd, looking like he was suffering a massive migraine.
“No way to know without looking at her books, but some of the big sites—which hers is reputed to be among the best of—can rake in a hefty salary.”
“But it’s not gambling, right? So we won’t be sanctioned?” argued one of the senior VPs.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it still looks shady as hell for us as a network,” replied Lloyd.
Unfortunately, Jackson agreed a hundred percent. This was bad. A sideline reporter who had just broken two big stories during the NFL Draft, now being outed as the owner of one of the more popular lock and pick sites on the web?
An effing PR nightmare is what it was.
“You think we should fire her?”
Dread drilled him in the solar plexus at the suggestion. There was a very good possibility that she’d get fired here today. But he held onto hope. He wanted to believe in her, believe she was…different. “Let’s just wait and hear her side of things before we start thinking in that direction.”
His suggestion fell on deaf ears of course since he was just an analyst. Her supervisor, but powerless against the boys on the top floor. So for the next half hour, the higher-ups all did their thing and discussed damage control and all the ways to save their own ass.
Meanwhile, Jackson was focused on figuring out how to tell Skip. Hell, that man looked at Leila like a daughter now. If he found out that she used anything from that war room he’d let her into for financial gain…
Well, then there would be two men profoundly, and irrevocably disappointed in her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Leila felt like throwing up.
She’d waited until she was in the privacy of her car before doing the google search.
The resulting video made her livid to the point of blinding nausea.
“That’s right. Ms. Hart and I, unfortunately, have parted ways. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on certain key things. Now I want to note that nothing she has done with her website is illegal. Please don’t feel that I’m disappointed in her because I’m not. I will always love her, and I wish her the best. But again, we just had a difference of opinion. That’s all I will be saying on this matter.”
And then the bastard blasted the url for ‘Gridiron Locks and Picks Weekly’ across the screen. The business she’d been running for the past few years to pay off her student loans and save for a house. He’d used this cheap font like it was some tawdry site that deserved his scorn.
She wondered how long he’d been holding this in his back pocket. Years probably.
Bastard.
This time, she wasn’t going to take it lying down. He would pay. The only question now was how big of a payback she’d be owing him soon.
And the answer was sitting on the other side of the door to the conference room where she and Jackson had first agreed not to divulge their deep, dark secrets.
Oh, the irony.
Entering the conference room felt a little like walking into an execution.
Her own.
“Thank you for coming in so quickly, Ms. Hart,” said Lloyd, as formal as can be.
Ouch. Regressing all the way back to last name pleasantries? This was not sounding good.
That’s when she saw Jackson lean forward and offer her a small reassuring smile. He didn’t look like how he’d sounded on the phone.
That gave her hope.
“Ms. Hart,” began the head of legal. “Have you seen the video that your ex released a little while ago about your glpweekly.com website?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied in interrogation mode, before sitting and waiting for the next question.
Lloyd exhaled in exasperation. “So do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Genuinely and completely perplexed, she answered truthfully. “I’m not sure I even understand what all the fuss is.”
Another small smile from Jackson. She held onto it like a lifeline.
; “We need to determine if you need to be terminated,” replied the head of legal.
She almost jumped out of her seat. “What? Why?”
“Leila, you do realize don’t you, that anyone in an employment capacity like the one you have, with access to privileged information, cannot participate in anything related to insider information that will result in gambling over football?”
She did a double take. “Wait a minute, you all think I’ve been using insider information from my interviews to pick the winners on my locks and picks site?”
Were they serious? Did none of them understand how picking worked?
“Are you denying the accusation?” came some faceless voice she didn’t even bother trying to identify.
“Hell yes, I’m denying it!” she replied hotly.
Finally, a full-blown smile from Jackson, but she was so worked up, she didn’t need a lifeline. She just needed a bullhorn.
Standing up, she glared at each of those corporate suits frowning at her before starting her tirade. “Now listen here. I built that site two and a half years ago, and it’s one of the most popular, well-reviewed locks and picks sites out there because of my success rate. A success rate I’ve had long before I ever came to work here.” She made sure to hit each person in that room with the fuming heat of her indignation—well, except for Jackson, but that was because he was the only one in the room smiling. She tried to avoid looking at him so she could hold onto her anger. “Picks and locks are not made by insider information. They’re determined by science and math. The algorithms I use to determine picks are based completely on my MBA thesis from last year.”
“You have an MBA?” questioned Perry-something from the P.R. department with nothing short of shock.
She sighed and fought hard not to spit on the tiny man. “Yes, I have my MBA. And running this site was part of my thesis. During my research, I developed an algorithm based on data that I gathered over the course of years. My algorithm takes longitudinal player stats, along with team and field stats, and turns it into data that can determine the likelihood of a win to a minute point spread, the number of yards a football player is likely going to accumulate in the game, and countless other ‘picks,’ There is absolutely no overlap between my site, and my work here at DBC Sports Network.”
“Then why were you hiding it from us?” asked Lloyd, visibly less unreceptive than he’d been a few minutes ago. Probably about when she’d said MBA—seriously, she was now more certain than ever that the man hadn’t even read her resume before hiring her.
“Are you honestly puzzled as to why I kept my identity a secret?” She dropped the bomb like it was a big secret. “I’m a woman. I guarantee that if Gridiron Locks and Picks Weekly had been run by Leila Jane Hart instead of L.J. Hart, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now because the site would’ve died within months of launch. And not only that, but my gender would’ve turned the entire thing into a circus act. I would’ve made news. And I hate making news. Not for things I didn’t work for—like simply being born with a vagina.”
“Okay,” conceded Lloyd, lips twitching in humor over that. “I get why you didn’t want the public to know. But why not tell us?”
A long tired breath whooshed out of her. “Guys. I told you how successful my site is.” At their blank looks, she translated further. “Roughly, I’d estimate that close to fifteen or twenty percent of the folks working in this building have accounts on my site.”
She could hear the silent, collective “Oh’s” circling around the room. “If all my co-workers knew I ran that site, and that I was the one giving them picks that may or may not have won them some money in the past—though let’s be honest, it was mostly the former and hardly ever the latter—I’d never hear the end of things. It would’ve been a nightmare to work here.”
“Leila,” began Lloyd.
Progress! Back to first name interactions.
“Is there any way you can prove that you’ve never used any of the information you’ve come across in your job here to pick your winners?” asked Lloyd, now practically back to his normal self.
With a determined headshake, she pulled out her phone and stalked up to the conference room projector. Syncing up her phone, she directed their attention to the big screen. “This is all the data I keep on my end for every lock and pick I recommend. Every single one. I can catalog this all in a report for you to prove via timelines and stats that not a single one of my picks and locks since I began here had anything to do with anything I learned on the job here. And not just that.” She clicked over to another area of her site with two more secure log-ins. “I keep notes for my records on every single NFL and college pick and lock I recommend. Every single one was based on long-term data and some other formulas I devised during my MBA, as my reports can easily prove.”
A collective breath of relief rippled around the room.
From her as well, though she kept her tough chick armor on just in case.
“Okay Leila, for the time being, until you furnish those reports, let’s just say we’re giving you the benefit of the doubt,” said Lloyd. “I’m afraid, however, that you have a big decision to make. You can’t continue to run that site and be employed as our sideline reporter. I’m sorry. But you’re going to have to choose.”
Well that was easy. She shrugged. “I choose this job.”
Jackson’s smile transformed into a barely smothered, eye-crinkling laugh.
While she loved that laugh—it was one of her favorites, his most affectionate by far—she had to wonder…what the heck was so funny?
“Are you sure, Ms. Hart?” asked Mr. Legal Affairs. “I’ve been crunching some raw numbers and I can already see that we don’t come close to paying you what you’re earning out.”
“No doubt,” she agreed. “But it’s just money. I’ve saved up a lot. Paid off all my graduate loans in the first six months, saved up enough for a home, and invested wisely. I’m okay. Even if you don’t pay me anywhere near what I earned from the site, this job is important to me. I have no problem shutting down glpweekly.com.”
“Okay then,” declared Lloyd after a roundtable head-nod check, “Just forward us those reports, and we’ll release a press statement after you shut down your site. Given everything, I’m fairly certain this is going to blow over easily.”
“Hold on—” spoke up Jackson, finally. “I think we ought to spend a little time coming up with a separate action plan to explain things to the coaches and players from the three pro teams on our network. That trust…we need to make sure it’s completely solid.”
For the first time that day, Leila finally saw what the issue was. She’d been looking at it from the perspective of knowing all the facts, understanding the science behind picks that have nothing to do with insider information. But if you weren’t privy to that perspective, then yes, you’d feel quite betrayed…say, for inviting a sideline reporter into an NFL Draft war room.
Leila put both hands on the conference table and directed her attention to the head of P.R. “Perry, arrange a half-hour meeting with each team—all the players and coaches. I’ll meet on their turf. A lot of NFL players and some assistant coaches use my site—let’s just leave it at that. So let me prove to them that there was no wrongdoing. They can quiz me to within an inch of my life. And after they’re satisfied that I’ve never used any information I’ve gained as a reporter for any of my picks, I’ll offer my final GLPWeekly picks and locks for free to anyone at that meeting who can get in their request within that half hour.”
Perry smiled. “Genius. Consider it done.”
She exhaled raggedly. “Alright, now can I go home? I have an ex-boyfriend I need to verbally de-ball for causing me so much stress and aggravation today.”
A round of chuckles was her only affirmative—and wholly supportive—reply.
***
As soon as everyone was cleared out of the conference room, Leila walked right up to Jackson. “Tell me the truth, did you thi
nk I was using insider information?”
Jackson held her gaze. “Honestly, I didn’t know.”
That stung. Hurt like the dickens, actually.
At least he was honest. Grant would’ve lied his ass off. She imagined a lot of guys would.
But not Jackson.
“I ran every possible scenario I could think of in my head,” he continued. “Unlike the others, I did know that there was a science involved. But without knowing your algorithm parameters, again, I just didn’t know. I did hold onto the belief that there was an explanation, however. And regardless, I still wanted to…protect you if I could. Even if you’d been guilty as sin, I still didn’t want you to suffer. The thoughts of your termination and sanction were killing me.”
“Would you and I have been okay?”
Pain streaked across his face. “No. But that wouldn’t have stopped me from helping you, Leila.”
Yes, she believed that. Even if she did something so heinous that she ripped his trust to shreds, she could see him still showing her mercy. That was very…Jackson.
“When did you know?” she whispered, thinking back to his smiles during the meeting, trying to pinpoint when she’d seen his first smile during the meeting. Had he believed her when she denied the accusations? Or was it only after she said she could provide evidence to prove herself. She needed to know. “When did you believe that I was innocent?”
He smiled…and that’s when she remembered.
“I knew the very second I saw your face when you came in the room, sunshine.”
Hearing him confirm her thoughts practically stole the ground out from under her. A long emotional breath of relief shot out of her lungs. “Good. That’s good.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more sure before. I don’t want you to think that I—”
She shook her head and cut him off. “No, don’t apologize. This wasn’t a black and white situation. I know how it all looked. And if the situations were reversed, I’m sure I would’ve wondered until I saw you as well.”
He directed a weighty gaze her way. “You could’ve told me, you know. I would’ve kept your secret.”
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