Blindsided: A Sports Romance (17 page)

I wrap my arm tightly around Darla’s shoulder and smile at the journalist in front of us. She glances down at her notepad and bites her lip. All around us, stylists and assistants scurry around, plumping cushions and placing bowls of fruit and flowers all over the place, like we’re in some sort of upmarket farmer’s market.

I’ve never read these magazines and I’ve never understood why anybody would want to. Darla explained it to me. She said it’s aspirational. That people read them and imagine themselves living celebrities’ lives.

Now, in the middle of our own shoot, I want to laugh out loud at the craziness of it all. This isn’t even our house. Early this morning, Howdy magazine sent a limo to collect us from our home and drive us across town to a cliff-side mansion. We’re pretending this is our home even though neither of us has ever set foot in the place before. I’m about to ask our interviewer what that’s all about, but she beats me to it.

“So when did you first know she was the one?”

I stare down at Darla’s brown curls and think about my answer. “I think it was the first time she cooked for me. I realized then that she was the whole package and I’d be a fool not to marry her.”

Cara, the journalist, nods her approval. “Very good.”

Darla pats my leg. “Good job,” she whispers. “Keep it up.”

I grin at her. This is fun. A lot more fun than I thought it was going to be.

“What about you, Darla? When did you realize he was the guy for you?” Cara gushes.

Darla squeezes my hand. “Oh, just about the first moment I met him.”

I grin down at her. “You’re so sweet.”

“And have you chosen a wedding date?”

I close my eyes and smile. “Of course. We’re getting married at the end of February.”

“Just as soon as the season’s over, so he can contribute fully to the planning.”

“I want to make sure it’s got my signature all over it. I want this to be a day we can remember as
ours
.”

“He’s very modern in that sense,” Darla simpers.

I roll my eyes. “She doesn’t say that when I’m shirking on my housekeeping duties.”

Cara’s eyes widen. “What, you don’t have a housekeeper? In a huge place like this?”

I shake my head. She looks genuinely shocked, even though she was the one who called to tell us they’d sourced a set for the photoshoot. It’s like she’s worked at this magazine for so long that she doesn’t even recognize her own truth-twisting anymore.

“No,” Darla says, biting her lip. “Look, I grew up in a family where we didn’t have much spare cash. And I still…” she pauses and takes a deep breath before letting out a heart-breaking sigh. I hug her tighter to me. “I want to do it all myself. You know? And when we have little ones I’m determined that I’ll be the one to look after them on my own.”

“What do you think of that, Jake?”

I shrug. “As long as I don’t have to change any diapers,” I grin. “I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

***

Darla elbows me as we’re making our way back from the makeshift wardrobe room after our first outfit change of the day.

“Is that true? About the diapers?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I’ve been getting pointers from Stevie. This’ll be fifty-fifty.”

She grins. “If you say so.”

“There you two are,” Cara smiles widely as she shepherds us into the huge, light-filled master bedroom. “Okay, so I’ll ask you a couple more questions once James is happy with the shots.”

She stands back against the wall as the photographer’s assistant arranges us on the bed for the next shot. I glance across at Darla, who’s been corralled into sitting cross-legged with a teddy bear in her hands. I smile at the look on her face. I can’t believe that only a couple of months ago I hated this woman’s guts. Now we’re a team.

“This is where the magic happens, right?” James says as he bounds around the room snapping test pictures from all angles.

Darla titters. I roll my eyes. Could the guy be any more retro if he tried?

She slaps my arm. “Lighten up, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You two are so cute,” Cara gushes.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of cringeworthy lines and clichés. But it’s not as bad as I thought. I’m left wondering why I refused to do magazine photoshoots for so long. They’re really not so bad.

***

“Come on, darling, let’s get you over the threshold,” I say, leaning down and grabbing Darla’s legs to carry her through the door.

She pushes me away laughing. “Nooo, Jake. It’s too soon. We can’t do that before the wedding. It might be bad luck.”

I carry her across the threshold anyway and kick the front door closed behind us.

As soon as we’re inside, I drop her to her feet.

“Why’d you do that?” she says, elbowing me in the side.

I dust off my pants. “Why’d you think? For the photographers at the gate, of course.”

Van clears her throat and comes to join us from the living room. “Can you two stop bickering? How did it go?”

I glance at Darla. “We’re not bickering. Now that we’ve got a common goal, we’ve been getting on perfectly well, thank you very much.”

“Whatever.” Darla rolls her eyes. “It was fine. They totally bought it, every cheesy line. You were right.”

Van crosses her arms over her chest and grins triumphantly. “Told you.” Darla follows her to the kitchen, leaving me standing in the hallway.

“Wait. What do we do now?”

Van spins around and looks at me like I’m a simpleton. It’s a look I’ve gotten used to since she came to visit me close to midnight one night last week. I don’t hold it against her—the woman is an evil genius. She has every right to look down on the rest of us mere mortals.

“We do nothing, Jake. We wait is what we do.”

“Did anybody see you come here?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I arrived at least an hour before you two. Most of the photographers were gone—I assume they were busy following you guys.”

“Did
any
of them see you?”

She shakes her head and grins widely. “Nah. I climbed in from next door’s garden. There’s no way they could see that from the gate out front.”

I shake my head as she turns toward the kitchen. I want to ask how the hell she managed that when she’s a good foot shorter than I am and that fence is at least seven feet tall, but I know better than to suggest she’s not capable of it. I may be dumb but I’m not that dumb.

“Come on,” Van says, grabbing my hands and pulling me off the couch. “No more wallowing.”

“I’m not wallowing,” I snap.

It’s true. I’ve finally begun to reclaim my life from daytime TV and takeout. I’ve started classes and I’ve got a job interview lined up for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve even had a haircut.

“Um, you are a little,” she says.

Am not
, I mouth to her departing back, but there’s really no point. She won’t take no for an answer. Besides, I can’t exactly claim that she doesn’t know what I’m going through. She may not be pregnant, but her life is as fucked up as mine is at the moment.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but her business was tied up completely with Jackson’s. She only found that out when she went to see her attorney about splitting the company apart so they could each take their respective shares. It turns out that Jackson doesn’t want to do that, because Jackson believes all of the success is down to his manipulative ass.

So I get up and follow her, because the last thing Van needs right now is to listen to my bullshit. All I really want to do is curl up on the couch and watch sad movies from the safety of my worn blanket.

It was all fine until this morning. It felt like I was slowly moving on. And then I saw them. Grinning out at me from the front page of Howdy like two Cheshire cats that got all of the cream.

I glance at the sink. When Van found me curled up on the couch poring over the glossy pictures of my child’s father with another woman, she tore it from my hands and rushed over to the kitchen before I could stop her. It was lucky she didn’t set off the alarms when she grabbed a lighter and held it to the corner of the magazine with a strange sparkle in her eyes.

“Come on, mopey pants,” she says now, spinning around. “There’s nothing left to read.”

She was right. All that was left was a pile of charred paper in the trash. I couldn’t make out any of the faces on the front.

“Where are we even going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she says brightly. “Come on. Get changed.”

“What should I wear?”

She taps her finger against her chin. “Something… memorable,” she says at last.

“Like one of those muumuu things I bought last week?”

“No,” Van says with a frown. “Trust me. You’re gonna want to look good today.”

That does it. I’m too intrigued to ask her any more questions. I rush to my bedroom and open my closet doors, staring inside. It’s not like my belly is showing yet, but the constant nausea has made most of my closet unwearable. As in, I’m not going to tempt fate by wearing a dress that squeezes my tummy when even the sight of fish or cheese can make me barf uncontrollably.

Within seconds, Van has breezed in behind me. “Wear this,” she says cheerily, pulling a bright pink tunic from behind her back.

I take it from her and stare at it. “Is this yours?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. It’s yours. I got it for you this morning.”

I want to sit her down and quiz her but I decide to play along. Maybe whatever weird plan she’s got might actually work to cheer us both up. I don’t see anything wrong with that.

“Okay,” I say, pulling my sweatshirt over my head.

“Jesus, lady,” Van exclaims. “Is there a store that sells underwear like that or did you get it made specially?”

I snort with laughter and almost vomit again. “Get fucked. It’s laundry day. All my other stuff is in the wash.”

“Maybe change those too.”

“Who’s gonna see them?” I protest, throwing my discarded sweatpants at her.

She cringes away and lets them fall on the floor. “Just do what I say. Come on. Humor me.”

“You really are a weirdo,” I say as I stand between her and my closet door and shuck off my gray granny panties in favor of a lacy bikini I’ve never even worn. “Are you planning to get me hit by a bus? Because that’s the only way anybody is seeing my underwear today.”

“Yeah, whatever, Rose. Let’s just say you’ll thank me later.”

I poke my head out from behind the door and scrutinize her. She’s up to something and I feel like I’m at a disadvantage because I have no idea what it might be. Her eyes shine and there’s a big grin on her face. I’m glad of that—she’s been down the past couple of weeks because of what’s been going on with Jackson and her clients.

“We need to leave in ten.”

I’m too intrigued to ask questions now. I rush past her to the tiny bathroom and fish out my ratty makeup bag. I dust on a little powder. By now, Van has shown me how to camouflage my drawn skin instead of trying to paint over it. I brush a little blush on my cheeks and pull out the pink lipstick she brought me as a gift from her last trip. It’s a cool bluey-pink that actually complements my skin tone instead of washing it out. When I’m done, I blot on a piece of tissue and stand back to admire my handiwork.

“Beautiful,” Van says, appearing in the doorway and watching me in the mirror.

I shrug. I wouldn’t go that far, but it is nice to dress up for a change.

***

The car ride is relaxed and fun until we pull off the highway on the outskirts of the city and I begin to panic a little. I know this exit. I’ve been here several times in cabs and I also know there’s nothing much out here except for industrial lots. And the huge Grizzlies facility.

“Van?” I say, turning to her.

My face feels cold, like all of the blood has suddenly just drained out of it.

“Van?” I repeat when she doesn’t reply. “Where are we going? Please tell me.”

Please tell me what? The words die in my mouth as she pulls into the long driveway that leads to the facility.

“Trust me, Rose.”

I stare out the windshield, heart hammering in my chest. Of course I trust her. She’s my best friend. But I also can’t think of any good reason for her to bring me here. I’ve told her everything. She knows what’s at stake.

“Van…”

And then I see him. He’s leaning on the hood of a sports car, watching us approach.

“Van what the fuck?”

She parks right alongside him and kills the engine. Without saying another word, she climbs out of the car. I follow her, despite my apprehension. See, I’m curious now. And I guess the damage is already done.

To my surprise, they greet each other like old friends even though I’m sure they only met once—briefly—that night at the club.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

Jake smiles at me and my stomach flips just like it always does when those hazel eyes look in mine. “We’re making this right is what’s going on.”

I close my eyes and tilt my head back. What the hell is going on? I force myself not to get swept away in some happy-ever-after daydream—nothing has changed. “Jake, please. I begged you to walk away.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah well. I couldn’t do that.” He takes a step closer to me and reaches for me, lightly stroking my hair. “I love you, Rose. I thought I could hold back and pretend for a few more months, but then the demands got more extreme. They wanted me to make the marriage last for a year. Then there was talk of eighteen months. Or indefinitely.”

“Utter bullshit,” Van spits. “It’s got Jackson’s fingerprints all over it.”

I look at her in surprise. She shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry. Continue with your.” She waves a perfectly manicured hand. “Declarations of love or whatever.”

Jake rolls his eyes and jerks his head in her direction, never once taking his eyes off me. “Is she always this annoying?”

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “She’s been driving me crazy since we were eight years old.” Sam’s age, I realize. And then I freeze. They’re acting like this is all light and breezy, but it’s not. It can’t be. Kenny made his threats very clear.

Jake must have seen my panic. “Rose,” he says, taking my hands. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve got it all figured out.” He glances at Van. “
We’ve
got it all figured out. You don’t have to worry about money, even if they take your payment. I set up a trust in your name this morning. It’s all yours. The balance is one million dollars.”

“But how…” I start. He’s told me about his financial problems. He doesn’t have that much money. I know it.

Van winks at me. “Jackson always thought he was the PR genius. But trust me. I know a thing or two as well.”

***

Word must have got around, because Kenny, Charlie and Manny Blackmore, the head of legal, are waiting when we enter Charlie’s office.

“Your career is over, son,” he snaps at Jake before we’ve even sat down. He turns his attention to me. “And as for you…”

“Please, Mr. Fox,” the attorney says in his calm, clear voice.

“Yeah, Coach Fox,” Van says, mimicking his tone. “I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Vanessa Gray. I represent Rose Allen and Jake Thorne.”

He looks from me to Jake. “The team represents our players. Not some…”

She holds her hand up. “Let’s not get personal. We—”

“Let me, Van,” Jake interrupts, squeezing my hand. “Coach Fox. The deal you had with me is off. I’m not gonna be married off to suit the team. Play me or not, but I’m not gonna stay with to Darla forever.”

Kenny glances at Charlie. He turns back to Jake with a sneer. “You’re not in a position to bargain.”

“Says who? Those are my terms.”

“You signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

“And I haven’t broken that.”

“I’ll tell you how this is going to play out. I’ll give you twenty minutes to get back to that house and make nice with your soon-to-be wife. Otherwise I’m gonna come after the both of you. You’ll both be penniless. How’d you like that?”

I suck in a breath; my heart is racing so hard I wonder if I’m gonna need a defibrillator. I don’t see how they can turn this around. I tried to tell them.

“We don’t need to like it. I’m surprised your lackeys haven’t shown you the spread in Howdy magazine,” Van says calmly.

My ears prick. I’d forgotten about that. Why am I here if…

Kenny looks surprised.

Van grins. “My guess is you’ve been paying attention to the sports pages and not to women’s magazines.” She reaches into her purse and rummages around before pulling out a copy of Howdy magazine. Unlike mine, it’s in pristine condition—no tears or char to be seen.

Kenny pulls it across the table like it’s roadkill and stares at the cover. “What the hell is this? I thought you said…”

Jake shrugs. “I did. This was the one thing that could get me out from under your thumb. I don’t need your money, Coach. Neither does Rose.”

He looks furious. “You can’t do this. You’re contractually obliged not to bring the team into disrepute in the media.”

Van shrugs. “I hardly think that a photoshoot with his soon-to-be wife is damaging to the team.”

Charlie frowns. “What is this? You sit here and tell us that you’re not going along with the agreement. Then you show us this. Which is it, Jake?”

I hold my breath. I don’t get what’s going on either. What’s the point in the photoshoot if…

Jake breaks into a broad grin. “You’ll see.”

Van clears her throat. “At noon, I’ll be sending a press release on behalf of my clients, who’ll be holding a press conference at one.” She looks at me. “That’s if you’re up to it, Rose.”

I shrug. I don’t want to admit to Kenny that I don’t have a clue what’s going on. But I don’t. All this time I’ve been picturing Jake with another woman, and he’s been concocting this plan with Van. Whatever it is.

Jake squeezes my hand. “I want to start a new life with the mother of my child. Something I should have done from the beginning. If she agrees to it, we’ll announce that we’re together. Above board. No running around and hiding from the press or this team or anybody. If the truth comes out?” he shrugs. “So be it.”

I blink. It’s a lot to take in at once, especially with a livid Kenny Fox sitting across the table from us. I’m convinced he’s going to breathe fire at any moment.

He breaks into a sudden smile that’s even more terrifying that his previous expression. He taps the magazine. “You think you can shaft these guys? I’m willing to bet that they’ve got as much legal muscle as we do, if not more.”

I glance at Jake warily, praying this is something they’ve anticipated. To lose him now? I don’t know if I could cope. I try to squeeze his hand. But he’s pulled it away.