The Trade(102)

From his back, Gregory lays a picture on the table and says, “What’s this?”

Invisible claws snag at my stomach as I lean forward and take in the picture. I’ve heard of this before, guys being pulled into offices and getting a picture slapped in front of them, one that is never in favor of the player, but I never expected it to happen to me. I’m a straight-laced guy. I don’t do stupid shit, ever. Hell, I love rules, they run my life, they’re my structure, so I’d never break them on purpose, so whatever the picture is, it has to be a mistake.

The lights from above are reflecting off the gloss of the paper, so I have to pick it up to identify the image and when I do, my heart starts to hammer a little harder in my chest. Not because of any harm to my image, but because I’m holding hands with Natalie, looking at her as if she holds my whole world in the palm of her hand. There are multiple pictures, so I flip through them. There’s one of us kissing passionately, me laughing at something she said, and of course, the one looking down at her.

I glance at my manager and Gregory and say, “These are pictures of me and my girlfriend, Natalie.”

“And what is Natalie wearing?”

Why the fuck does that matter? I glance at the pictures again and then I see it.

Fuck.

“Shit,” I say, pushing my hand through my hair. “She wasn’t thinking. She was running late and forgot to change.”

Gregory leans forward on the desk and says, “Do you realize how fucking bad this is? That you’re kissing a girl wearing a Bobbie for life shirt? Fuck, Potter, we’re trying to help you here and now these pictures surface. They’re going to be run this week. Not sure when, but they’re going to strike when the time is right.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“We weren’t thinking and . . . how the fuck were these pictures taken?” I ask, remembering we were just outside the golfing range. “I didn’t see any cameras there.”

“They are always watching, especially since you’re a big story right now. Any mistake they’re going to catch and this was a big mistake. Huge.”

“This was weeks ago,” I say. “Why are they bringing it up now?”

“Because, we’re starting spring training. We’re trying to save your image, they have enough fodder on you to make your life a living hell for at least the next couple of months. The city thrives off this rivalry, they live for it, and unfortunately you’re the perfect target, the perfect story to feed that rivalry.”

“What can I do?” I ask, immediately thinking about Natalie. Is she going to be hounded? “Do they know who she is?”

“Not sure,” Gregory says.

“Does Jason know?”

Gregory’s eyes pull together in question as my manager sits back and listens. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with this and just focus on the game but unfortunately, this is part of it. “What does Orson have to do with it?”

“Natalie is his sister,” I say.

An oh shit look crosses Gregory’s face before he pinches his nose as his other arm folds over his chest. “Mother . . . fucker.” He takes a few calming breaths and then says, “Okay, as far as we know, the media has no idea who she is, at least they’re not telling me if they do, which is odd since she’s been in the public eye. Either way, I must ask. Is she coming here?”

“Yeah, next week.” I wince, feeling that sense of dread taking over again.

He nods and looks off to the side. “I can’t tell you what to do, but it might be in your best interest if you tell her not to come. It could cause more of a headache than good. But that’s up to you. If she does come down, make sure she’s wearing a goddamn Rebels shirt.”

I nod, unsure what to say, or really do at this point. Finally I ask, “They’re going to run the picture?”

“They’d be stupid not to. Rebels cash cow caught kissing the enemy? Yeah, that’s going to sell big time.”

“Shit. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I let out a slow breath, thinking about the leeway I just made with the guys and wondering if it’s going to be washed away now. “Should I say something to the guys? Warn them?”

This is when my manager steps in and shakes his head. “We keep media off the field. Rumors and headlines are no place for the ball field. If we’re making headlines out on the diamond, it’s for our gloves and bats, not our godforsaken personal lives.”

I nod, understanding completely. “Yes, sir.” Turning to Gregory, I ask, “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

He shakes his head and says, “Just keep doing what you’re doing, training and practicing. Let us work the angles for you.”

Standing, I let out another slow breath, apologize, and then head out the door.

Fuck. What the hell do I do now? I’ve never been this guy—the one who brings trouble. I’ve never had to worry about what photos of me might communicate, so I’m out of my depth here. The guys on the team shouldn’t cause shit with this, as I think that bridge has been crossed, but Natalie? The thought of the media hounding her? I just fucking hope they don’t find out who she is.





“Hey, there you are,” Natalie says as her face pops up on the screen of my phone. “I was getting nervous for a second that you disappeared.”