by Jess Bentley
“Harry!” he shouts as his son jumps into his lap with a soccer ball in his hand.
“You get all you wanted?” David asks him and the little boy nods adorably.
“Now Daddy has to go and train—will you sit quietly with Carrie here till Daddy gets back?” The boy nods again. With a quick smile and a light squeeze on my shoulder, David jogs back to the field where practice is resuming once again.
Harry’s too busy playing with the new soccer ball and doesn’t pay much attention to me till his ball slips away and I go to retrieve it.
“Do you like it here in the US?” I ask as I hand him the ball. The boy politely nods.
What do you talk to a five-year-old boy about? I’m stumped. Even though I love kids, I haven’t been around many, especially since I’m an only child.
“Mommy says that we are going to stay here forever,” he suddenly speaks up in the cutest voice possible.
“Really?” I try not to let on, but my heart sinks. I feel bad about asking the little boy questions but it feels like I have no other choice. I need clarity.
“Mommy loves daddy very much, huh?” I say slowly. The boy nods again.
“Mommy fights with daddy,” the boy confesses, with his big expressive eyes staring up at me. “But she says, you only fight with people who you love.”
If he were anyone else’s child, My heart would’ve melted at the cuteness but his words aren’t giving me any peace of mind. Children don’t lie and they're perceptive. Maybe there is something still going on between David and Lucy. The question is whether I want to stick around to find out what? I know the answer to that question.
“Mommy tells me Daddy will take me to Disneyland. And he will also get me a baby brother.”
I purse my lips, emotions all over the place.
“I don’t want to leave daddy again. I want to live in that big house with mommy and daddy,” he says, snuggling closer to Carrie. I hug him, as I don't want him to see the sadness on my face. Then ruffle his hair gently.
“Yes, baby. You'll live in that big house with Mommy and Daddy and you'll be happy forever.” Tears well up my eyes, as I stare yet another impending heartbreak in the face. I blame myself for getting too attached to David. I blame him for being so damned charming and I blame the universe for being so unfair to me. I deserve better. I don't deserve these failed affairs with famous men.
Sometime later, Scott walks up the bleachers and I decide to make my exit, leaving Harry in his care. There’s no need to wait for David anymore. There’ll be no more lunches, no more kisses on balconies and no more David Adams. It’s simply time for goodbye.
David has a happy family and there’s no place for me in his life. Besides, I can’t be the other woman. Maybe it’s okay for these rich and famous folk to treat flings as a common occurrence but it’s not for me. With a single tear falling down my cheek, I send David a text late in the night. ‘I'm sorry for everything. Goodbye!’
All the frustration, disappointment and resentment I’d build in my heart over the past few weeks take the form of tears that flow freely through the night. I’ll be okay, sooner or later. But I’m not going to forget the lessons I’ve learned anytime soon.
In the morning when I wake up, there’s a single text message waiting for me on the phone. Surprisingly, it’s from Max. ‘Check your email :)’
I have no idea what it’s about. Two emails are sitting in the inbox. The first one is a letter of termination issued from Coyote. Max could’ve asked me to put in a formal resignation so it wouldn’t look bad on my resume, but he doesn’t care. He’s already on a mission to destroy my life.
The second email is from Max. The subject line says ‘Enjoy!’. The body of the email contains a link to the Coyote website. No other text.
At first read, I’m confused. It’s an article about David, credited to me. Sure, I wrote an article on David but this is not the one… besides I didn’t hand over my article to Max. Still, there are plenty of sentences that were in my article as well. This is not a coincidence, I think, as alarm bells ring in my head.
The article, supposedly written from my point of view, slams David as a misogynist, bigoted, womanizer. It exaggerates his drinking and his wild lifestyle in general. I’m shocked. David’s nothing like that, and besides, I would never ever write such lies, especially about him.
My temper rising, my face becomes hot with fury and I hurriedly dial Max’s cellphone number.
“I was wondering when you’d call,” He says smugly.
“What the hell is this?”
“Why, it’s only the article you wrote for us, your previous employers.”
“I didn't write this.”
“That’s not what it says on there. Let me see, it says ‘written by Carrie Tucker.’ Yep, that’s you,” he laughs.
“So you just took my article and twisted and deformed it to fit your narrative.”
“I don’t know what you're talking about. This is what you submitted to us,” he chuckles.
“How the hell did you even get this? I didn’t send my article to you.”
“Well you saved it on the Coyote cloud account, and once we read it, we deemed it ready for publication.”
“But... but you fired me. I don’t work for you anymore and this article is my property.”
“So, you're admitting that the article is yours?”
“No!”
“Well, Miss Tucker, at the time you were assigned to this job, you were an employee of Coyote magazine and since you saved it on our company cloud account, which only employees have access to, we have the rights to publish it if we deem the writing to be acceptable.”
I’m stumped. Max has cornered me and won once again. There’s nothing I can do about it. Maybe Shauna can do something.
“Shauna’s going to have your hide about this,” I growl.
“Shauna? Who cares? I’ll blame it all on you and then tell her that I fired you for misrepresenting the facts.”
Max has his ass covered.
“Besides what will she do? Sue me? I don’t think so. No one sues the Griswolds in this country. Their legal team is bigger than the number of employees Shauna has in her office!”
Just when I think it can’t get worse, it has. Max tied my hands, chained me to a heavy rock and has thrown me in the sea. There’s no way I can ever recover from this. More than, I’m worried for David. This will certainly ruin his reputation beyond repair. By the time Shauna issues a counter statement, this’ll be all over the gossip news websites and TV shows. Coach Miller won’t be happy about this and whatever little chance David has of playing in the final has just disappeared.
Besides, now that Max has implicated me in this, David and Shauna will never believe I’m innocent. Shauna’s always had a suspicious eye for me and this will confirm all of her fears. Even if none of this is my doing, Max is playing his game with perfect precision.
“So enjoy all the free time that you've got now and ... as for my parting words? Fuck you, Carrie,” Max says, and hangs up.
The phone slips from my hands and I sit down on the floor with a thump. Max is cunning, vicious and in one swift motion, has destroyed everything I’ve worked hard to achieve. David and his entourage will think that it was my intention all along to write such an awful piece. Not hard to believe considering I’m the one that wrote the first unflattering article featuring Ana the model.
Max will blame everything on me, if they complain. David will probably hate me. Not that it matters, because there’s nothing left between us. Yet at the same time, something is dying in me at the thought.
A few days ago I had it all and all of a sudden, there’s nothing left. No job, my ex-boss is hell bent on destroying my life and the man I love probably hates me with all his heart.
How did things change so fast?
Chapter 98
“There is gotta be something we can do!” Scott punches his palm in frustration. “Can’t we just sue them?”
“Scot
t, he’s not just Max Jefferson anymore — he is going to be one of the Griswolds. Do you really want to go up against the Griswold legal machinery? They’ll just destroy us,” Shauna replies.
“This guy has published not one, but two slanderous pieces against David and you're telling me there’s nothing we can do?”
“They have more money than they care to throw away. Max knows he is untouchable now, and that’s why he laughed at me when I called to tear him a new one.”
“You should’ve known this was coming. It's your job to keep this kinda shit under control.”
“Scott.” Shauna’s voice is stern. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. That girl was supposed to do just that. I'm still not sure what happened there… she seemed okay to me,” She grimaces.
“I knew something was off with her. First she interviewed that damn model and then all of a sudden she is coming to parties, going to practices. She invaded our inner circle, won our trust and then stabbed us all in the back.” He throws his phone on the sofa.
These people are just falling apart, I think as I sit there glumly, staring at the text message from Carrie on my phone. ‘I'm sorry for everything. Goodbye!’ is all it says. For the last hour, as Shauna and Scott try to do damage control, I’ve been trying to decipher what it means.
Sorry for what? For writing this piece? For betraying me? Shauna and Scott are making solid arguments. Scott, especially, is certain that Carrie’s a double agent, a plant by Max to get a juicy story for his failing magazine. I’m even tempted to believe them for a moment but deep inside my heart I find it very difficult to believe that Carrie would do this to me.
She doesn't seem like that kind of girl and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s identifying an opportunist from a mile away. When we made love the other night, it was special. There’s a strong connection between us. She’s not just another girl who wants to sleep with someone famous.
“The Knights’ PR team aren’t happy,” Scott stares at their message on his phone. “We gotta fix this. Now!”
“You’re gonna be okay?” Shauna asks David sympathetically. Bloody hell, it feels like someone died, I think, but simply nod my head. I don’t have the energy. “Just lay low,” she says kindly and pats me on the back. When she makes her exit, Scott follows her.
Carrie wouldn’t betray me, would she?
I’m still struggling to come to terms with all this. Coach Miller won’t like this at all, and the team management had already expressed their displeasure. Rightly so, considering this piece of gossip is all over the internet. I really thought that I found someone amazing the day I kissed Carrie on the balcony. Like every other relationship of mine, this too has come crashing down on me.
At least I didn’t have to wait a few years and a million dollars spent in gifts to discover this, I snort to myself. But there’s no time to dwell on this new development. There are other important things to focus on, like how to make sure that I get to play in the final.
Walking out to the pool area to get a breath of fresh air and perhaps take a dip in the water, I see Lucy sprawled on the sun bed. She’s wearing a skimpy bikini, trying to get tanned as quickly as possible.
“Hey love,” she calls out.
I absolutely hate it when she calls me that.
“Where is Harry?” I ask.
“He’s taking a nap. Come sit by me.” I also hate the way she tries to command me, but I just go anyway, knowing well that otherwise Lucy will get upset and create more drama. That’s the last thing I needed right now. Besides I don’t want my son to see his parents squabbling, if he were to walk in on us.
“God, I love this sun. I could live here forever,” Lucy says.
Wouldn’t you like that.
“London seems so dreary after this. Even Harry loves it here, I didn’t think he would.”
Using your son to get what you want, your old trick.
“I'm glad you like it here,” I reply politely.
“The Americans just know how to do things right, don’t they? The clubs, the shopping, the restaurants. LA really is all that it’s hyped up to be.”
Lucy’s spent more time going around town than she has with me or Harry. The fringe benefit of that is it gives me a lot of alone time with my boy.
“Come here, David, take a selfie with me,” she props her sunglasses over her head and opens Instagram on her phone. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s selfies.
“Not now Lucy,” I reply.
“Oh, come on, love, my fans would love to see a world famous soccer star taking selfies with his favorite girl,” she smiles.
“It’s called football, not soccer,” I wince.
“You're in America now. When in Rome…” She grins.
Don’t call me love, you selfish woman. I’m already annoyed by how the day has gone so far and Lucy’s chatter isn’t helping. Enough is enough.
“Lucy, you've to stop using me and my fame to further your own interests. These silly reality shows that you keep appearing in won’t work out for you in the long run. You need to think about a serious line of work, if you want to be the superstar you think you are.”
Her smile disappears.
“Do you know how many fans I have?”
“Doesn’t matter. Half of them are probably just creeps who come to ogle all the pictures of your chest that you post.”
She doesn’t reply, just crosses her arms and looks the other way.
“You haven’t called me since I moved here and then suddenly you arrive in America at the pretext of accompanying Harry. Is it just a coincidence then that you were fired from your latest reality show last week?”
Lucy makes a face as if she’s really hurt by my comments.
“David, is that what you think this is?” Her brows furrow. “I came here because I want to be with you. I wanted Harry to be a part of a family. Isn’t it our duty to as parents to give him a good family life?”
If you hadn’t been such a selfish, fame-hungry woman, we would’ve had a family, I want to say. Although not a day goes by when I’m not glad that I saw Lucy for what she really is. I was about to ask her to marry me when I discovered that she was having an affair while he was away playing football. Plus she freely threw my name around to get favors.
“Besides, I still have feelings for you. I never stopped loving you David,” she murmurs, tears welling up her eyes.
I stare back at her and start laughing.
“I’m pouring my heart out to you and you’re laughing like a twat?” Her nostrils flare.
“Lucy, the only thing pouring out of you, is all the stupid that is in your head. What do you want this time? To be in a reality TV show in L.A.? To be in the movies? You always have an agenda and that agenda is always geared toward your benefit.”
“You’re such a pathetic, disgusting... wanker.”
“And you're nothing but an opportunist. Hear this, Lucy, you're not getting a penny out of me. Neither can you use my name or be associated with me in any way. The only thing we have in common is our son, and for his sake, let’s pretend to be civil while you're here in America.”
“You think I need your money? You think I need anything from your petty self? Go f—” Lucy stands up in anger.
“Well, you're living in my house, driving around in my cars and using my credit card to apparently shop for my son, although now that I mention it, all I've seen you carry are bags of fashion brands which certainly aren’t meant for kids…”
“Go to hell. I can go live in a hotel,” she says as she pretends to walk away.
“Be my guest.” I sit back and grin. Lucy’s not expecting that and the sudden look of shock on her face gives me a lot of satisfaction.
“You know what, fuck you. I'm not your nanny. You can take care of your son yourself. I'm leaving!” This time she actually does storm out.
I wait to see if she’s bluffing, but I am surprised when I see her stomping out of the house after an hour, with all of her luggage in
tow. Apparently she’s not as friendless in L.A. as I’d thought. She’s coaxed some guy to come pick her up and I already feel bad for the poor man, who’ll have to endure her bad mood.
This was the last thing I needed to happen. As I sit next to my son, who is still in a deep slumber, I worry. I’ll have to explain to him why his mum isn’t here. But at least I've got him all to myself now. For the first time that day, a smile comes across my face.
Chapter 99
I was worried the coach was not going to be pleased with me and I was right. Both of us standing in the press area of the Rose Bowl for an hour, and Coach Miller has still not spoken to me. I’d like to escape this place. If there is anything I hate more than sponsor’s events, it’s press conferences and this one’s the biggest of them all: the pre-game press conference for the Cup Final. To make it worse, Javier ‘El Matador’ Romero will be here as well.
Javier’s team, the Miami Titans, are in the final and so are my team. Although I still have not been reinstitute as captain, the sponsors insisted I be present at the press conference. Usually it’s just the coach and the captain who have to go.
“What up, yo’?” Willie, in a very cheerful state of mind, comes up to me. “Ready for the big press conference?”
“Mate, are you havin’ a laugh? I’d bloody hell rather be anywhere else,” I look down at the members of the media as they begin to trickle in to the press area.
“Don’t worry, man, it won’t be so bad. Just don’t let Javier or these scumbags from the media get to you. As they say, keep calm…” He smiles.
“That’s quite the ask isn’t it?” I’m annoyed. “After all that’s been written about me of late, they're going to have a field day out there.”
“Yeah, man. Sorry about that. That article in Coyote was unfair, man. They massacred you out there.”
“I just didn’t see it coming,” I say, shaking my head, still unable to believe that Carrie betrayed me like that. “You think you know a person and then this happens. Is there no more honesty in this world?” Or true love?
