So are you considering Ramsey “the one” now?
I quickly pushed that thought from my mind.
For me, for now, I was “the one” - the only one my heart should belong to, after having it stomped on in such a dramatic fashion, for the world to see, by a man who I was maybe only still with because I’d been with him so long that I didn’t have another frame of reference.
But that was easier said than done, when Ramsey was so… Ramsey.
“Who will you be in ten years?” he’d asked me, our last morning in Bali. It was a question that had been playing in my mind since then – and ended up on my list of standard interview questions now. We had a flight to catch, but we’d packed the night before, only leaving out the bare essentials so that we could spend as much time as possible doing what we were doing - being naked in bed. The question hurt me, because… I didn’t have an answer. The Darius thing, plus having the show snatched from under me, had me all discombobulated.
Ten years from now, at almost forty, I wasn’t even supposed to be Wil Cunningham anymore. I was supposed to be Wil Hayward, have at least a couple of kids, and a second home somewhere sultry and beachy and warm. I would be a well-known name in sports news, as recognizable as any of my male counterparts.
Now, that all seemed… distant.
I didn’t want to say that to Ramsey though. Didn’t want to look weak, didn’t want to have him giving me a pep talk, like it seemed he was always doing for me. But I told him anyway, because that was just the effect he had on me. I was too comfortable with him to not give him a truthful answer.
He didn’t pep talk me though. He just listened, and then explained how he felt where I was coming from, with his unexpected return to the NFL. As I laid there, looking in his eyes as he spoke about being grateful for the opportunity to keep the promise to his mother, and his fears about being the same quality player he was before, and hoping to be a real asset to the team, I felt so… connected. No, our paths weren’t exactly the same, but there was a sense of synergy there that was hard to explain. He wasn’t listing out his own problems so mine didn’t seem so bad - he was relating to me. Spilling his heart and mind in a way that was beyond refreshing.
He was beyond refreshing.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my doorbell, prompting me to glance at the time. It was past ten at night, and the only person I could think of who might drop by unannounced so late was Ramsey, but it couldn’t be him. He’d started training camp with the rookies - he was in the “dorms” with them, under a curfew and subject to bed checks to make sure he was where he was supposed to be. It had to be someone else.
My guess was right - when I peered through my peephole, Chloe McKenna and Cole Richardson were on the other side, both wearing concerned expressions. Knowing both of their connections to Ramsey - his PR and his team liaison - worry had my fingers shaking as I hastily undid the locks and opened the door.
“Wil, how are you?” Cole gushed, as soon I stepped aside for them to come in. “Are you okay? Naima said you aren’t answering your phone, and she’s getting ready to come over here herself. She’s worried sick about you!”
Beside her, Chloe shook her head, all business as she headed right for my kitchen counter to take her laptop from her bag. “Tell Naima to stay put - we don’t need any added chaos. Unless Wil wants her here. Do you want her here, Wil? Just say the word, and we’ll make it happen.”
“I’m sorry - what the hell is going on?” I asked, frowning in confusion. “Why would I need Naima here? What are you doing here?” I asked, pointing between the two of them.
“My apologies,” Chloe chimed in first, extending a hand to me. “Chloe McKenna, Ramsey’s publicist and image manager.”
I accepted her hand, but shook my head. “No, I know who you are, I just… I don’t understand why you’re here.”
Chloe and Cole looked at each other, as if they were puzzled, and then Cole’s eyes went wide. “Waiiit… you… you don’t know yet, do you?”
My frown deepened. “Don’t know what?” I asked, which prompted them to exchange another glance, and then Cole grabbed me by the hands, pulling me to the couch in my living room. “Okay… you’re going to want to sit down.”
She was right to have me sit down. Just as she’d guessed, I needed extremely firm grounding to hear that this evening, while I’d been doing my interview prep for Trent Bailey, letting my phone stay on “do not disturb” so I could maintain my focus, once again the internet was running rampant with my name.
Only this time, I wasn’t a woman scorned - I was a woman scandalized, with picture evidence of my trip to Bali with Ramsey.
If it were just footage of us walking around, having dinner, on the beach, etc, that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course it would feed the long-standing rumors of Ramsey and I having a “thing”, but still easy enough to explain away, or talk around.
There was no way to talk around my head thrown back, leg up on his shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy as he screwed me - with the door open - on top of that little table behind the couch in our villa in Bali.
Apparently, two bottles of wine had made me very flexible.
Luckily enough for me, whoever had invaded our privacy hadn’t been able to get in close or get a very good angle. Somehow, I’d been granted enough grace that because of the curtains, none of the pictures had any overt nudity beyond a bit of side boob, but it was very obvious what we were doing.
Which, what we were doing shouldn’t have really been a problem, right? We were two single people - we weren’t hurting anybody.
Only, that wasn’t the story the media was running with. The story was that this trip was part of a long-term affair, that Ramsey and I had been romantically involved since before my broken engagement, and even before his too.
They were saying I was the reason he and Lena McBride were no longer together, that I had driven Darius into the arms of another woman, by being this heartless, man-stealing, gold-digging whore with an innocent face. Apparently, I only wanted to get serious with Ramsey now because I was jobless, and he had a place on the team. It was all “confirmed” by an “anonymous” source who’d “worked closely with us in the past”.
Connie and Sarita’s fingerprints couldn’t be any more obvious all over this, at least not to me. There was no way I could prove such a thing though, and even if I could, what would the recourse be?
“Ramsey is very, very concerned about making sure you come out on top in this - that is why we’re here,” Chloe explained, after giving me the lay of the land. “Because of Nicole’s position with the team, she was able to get to him, and that was the message he wanted relayed, as well as his frustration that he’s not able to physically be here for you.”
“He’s really worried about you,” Cole added. “I pushed the rules a little to let him use my phone to call, but… no answer. He wants to know that you’re okay.”
I scoffed. “I mean… I don’t know what I am right now, honestly. This is… I just feel numb. And sick to my stomach. And a little like throwing myself off a cliff. But no, tell him I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m totally fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t have to pretend to be fine.” Chloe’s tone was very matter-of-fact as she typed something out on her cell phone. “In fact, I encourage you not to. I’m very good at my job, Wil, and I assure you that for whomever is behind this “exposure”, it will not be going as they intended. I want the paparazzi to see you with bloodshot eyes, I want you to look destroyed by this, even if you aren’t. I’m tired of the world using a woman’s sexual autonomy as a way to vilify her, and if it’s alright with you, Wil, I want to pursue legal action. Criminal charges.”
I shook my head. “I… I really can’t even wrap my head around this right now. Any of it. I don’t want attention, don’t want to be an example. I want this out of people’s memories, and off their screens. I don’t want to be lied on, or have pictures of me having sex - or, for that matter, being the poor d
ummy that got cheated on by Sugar & Spice’s “sexiest man alive” as what people think of when they hear my name. None of my personal life - I want them to focus on my work.”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you forfeited that when you became a household name. Now that your star is shining brighter - for better or worse - the narrative has to be guided. Just as I’ve told clients in the past, you’re going to have to give the public something. It’s up to you - well, us - what that something is going to be.”
“Us?” My eyebrow raised. “You don’t work for me, you work for Ramsey.”
“And because you two are involved, your image reflects on his. My job is making sure his public perception is positive - being portrayed as a chump does nothing for him. It’s in his best interest that this is fixed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, poor Ramsey, being portrayed as a “chump”, while I get the whore of Babylon treatment. How awful for him.”
“This is the way of our world, love,” Chloe said, in a clearly sympathetic tone. “I don’t make the rules, I just do my very best to make them work for us. I heard you mention several things you wanted here - images scrubbed from the internet, and off of people’s minds. To not be slandered. And to have people focusing on your work, and not the scandal. Okay.”
“Okay?”
Chloe nodded. “Yes.” She’d been scribbling furiously in a notepad as we talked, but now she stopped, using her pen to emphasize things on the page as she read them off, then supplemented each with an explanation. “Pictures gone - not possible. In this age of the internet, those pictures are saved in too many smartphones, posted on too many gossip blogs, etc, to ever be gone. I already have my IT guy working on getting them off the larger sites as a formality, but it’s honestly futile. The way we tackle this is by changing the narrative around your relationship with Ramsey, which gives the pictures a different connotation. Right now, it looks like an illicit affair. So, to fight that, we frame you two as friends discovering love, while comforting each other through grief.”
“But that’s not—”
“Doesn’t matter. We paint it this way, and at least half the people keeping the vitriol going switch gears, which drives the story we want to tell. It won’t convince everyone, but when people’s opinions are divided, the story doesn’t last as long - gets it off of people’s minds. It works, I promise you.”
“I can attest to that,” Cole chimed in, reminding me that she was even there. “I know you remember how everything blew up around me and Jordan after the Super Bowl. Chloe was the one who came up with that whole “Love on the Highlight Reel” thing, that had people calling us “relationship goals”. Did I want to give the media anything about me and Jordan, about our past? Of course not. But giving that little bit was enough to get the world off of my back. Because the woman is always the villain, of course.”
“Of course,” Chloe agreed. “Listen, Wil, I understand that this is not ideal. But, it’s the most favorable result we can aim for right now. And besides that, focusing on the triumph of your newfound love takes away from this idea of you as a victim of your ex, as someone to be pitied. So, it works twofold.”
I scoffed. “You keep throwing around this “love” word, and I just… it’s freaking me out, to be honest. Ramsey and I are nowhere near discussing something like that, and I—”
“Ramsey has actually already given his approval of the language,” Chloe told me, smirking. “Had exactly zero reservations about it. So perhaps you’re closer to discussing it than you think. But, it’s here nor there – the public doesn’t care. Either you went to Bali together because you were sneaking around, or you went because you’re in love and wanted to get away together. Maybe if you were known for having short, public flings, there would be other scenarios, but for you… these are the options. Keep in mind that the story we give the media doesn’t have to change things between you and Ramsey. There’s the spotlight… and there’s your real life.”
“I get that, I do. It’s just…” I pushed out a sigh, and dropped my head into my hands. “This is so much to think about, while the whole world is watching what was supposed to be a private moment between me and my friend. All I want is to be respected as a journalist. How does this make me look?!”
“Well-fucked,” Cole said, then quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God – I did not mean to say that out loud. Sorry.” Her expression was remorseful, but shifted into a bit of a smirk. “But… seriously though…drama aside… yasssss, girl!” she reached to squeeze my hand, looking so genuinely happy for me that I couldn’t help a little grin from coming to my face.
“If Nicole is done,” Chloe spoke in a firm tone, but I could tell she was barely holding a neutral expression herself. “How it makes you look – if we get in front of this – is like a woman rediscovering the pleasures in life, after several hard knocks. And as far as wanting people to focus on your work, that’s as easy as getting it in front of them. Who is your next interview?”
Cole answered for me. “Trent Bailey. His schedule was so busy that we’re squeezing it in this week, before he and the other veterans start training camp.”
“Excellent!” Chloe seemed excited about that. “The interview will be a great way to remind people that you are not, in fact, jobless, and that you’re a badass at what you do. And Trent Bailey is a huge name, which helps tremendously.”
“I agree,” Cole said, nodding. “And right after him, let’s get you lined up with Jordan, to keep that momentum going. It shows that the Kings have full confidence in you – which we do – and by the time the hype from the interviews dies down, some socialite will have done something, and everyone will have moved on.”
“And while all of that is happening, my team will find out who took the pictures, and how they got into the hands they got into. This all blew up way too fast to just be some random person posting the pictures. There’s money behind this, and I intend to figure it out. From there, you can decide what, if anything, you want to do.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“So…?” Chloe asked, eyebrow raised. “Am I moving forward with this, or are you still feeling skittish? The sooner we get started, the better.”
I swallowed hard, then nodded again. “Um… do what you need to do, I guess. Whatever you think is best. I just want this all to go away.”
She gave me another sympathetic smile. “Soon enough. For now, I want you to focus on getting some rest. You need to unplug. Uninstall your social media apps. Do not look at the notifications. Do not search your name, or Ramsey’s name. Go be with your family, and your friends. You’re going to get through this, and you’re going to be perfectly fine.”
I wanted to believe her.
After she and Cole left, I told myself I’d follow her directions. I’d promised her that I would. But as soon as I got to my phone, and saw the comments ranging from ugly, to disgusting, to outright violent, I just felt… sick. That’s when the tears started, but I couldn’t make myself look away, digging deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of commentary that everybody seemed to have, everyday people and celebrities alike.
What struck me most though were the women – not the ones with nasty opinions, or even the small, but loud contingency that were cheering me on.
It was the ones who claimed to have had Ramsey before me. Women whose names I’d never heard, had never seen, had never caught a mention of on the rare occasion that he’d mentioned a date. Obviously I knew he wasn’t sexless, but aside from his dead relationship with Lena, the idea of him with other women never really crossed my mind.
Welcome to the other side of dick too bomb.
It wasn’t like there were tons of them – only a couple who were bold and wanted a little attention, apparently – and they weren’t even being disrespectful to me, not exactly. But the last thing I wanted, with everything else, was “@kellibabiii: I see @RB_TheHammer still has that hip action. That wild look in your eyes is familiar as hell @SwiftWilly con
grats girl lol! Used to be me.” retweeted and in my personal notifications twenty-six thousands times. Or, “@MillyFromPhilly: damn @RB_TheHammer brings back memories. Call me.”
Nevermind that he needed to choose more discreet women for his sexual escapades – how recent were these women? Since we’d started sleeping together? Were there more? Was there someone else now?
That was the thought that finally drove me to turn off my phone, after a quick call to Naima, and then my parents, to assure them that I was okay. I was too upset, and too embarrassed for the call to my parents to be very long, but the reassurance they gave me in those few moments was enough to calm me.
A little.
A bottle of wine took care of the rest.
This definitely wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done.
But I wasn’t so invested in making a “smart” decision that I didn’t know what the right decision was, and even though there was about a ninety-five percent chance I’d get my ass handed to me by the team, sneaking out of the dorm facility after bed check was a “right” decision.
If I knew Wil like I thought I did, she was probably going crazy.
My own cell had been confiscated, but between Cole, Chloe, and my childish-ass young teammates, I had a pretty good grasp of what was going on, and it wasn’t pretty. Not just because of the rumors and lies, but because I’d seen those pictures, and I knew Wil… this wasn’t the kind of thing she could sit with and be okay about, not this soon. Neither Cole nor Chloe had come back to me with a report that made me feel any less uneasy about Wil’s mental state, so I took matters into my own hands.
I showed up at her door.
I hesitated a bit before I pushed the bell – it was damn near two in the morning, and in a perfect world, she’d be peacefully asleep. I pressed the glowing orange button anyway, because the likelihood of that was low, and she confirmed my suspicion a few moments later, when she opened the door with puffy, swollen eyes.
Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3) Page 21
