“Of course. Are you ladies ready to order?”
“A few more minutes, please.”
He nods and walks away.
“How was the fundraiser?” Basha asks.
“It was perfect, and Alex was hot and perfect. Geez, I need a thesaurus. It’s funny how I’ll tell an author to use another word or be more descriptive, and yet, here I am failing at it.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I’m frustrated and angry. And upset. Yesterday, I was so angry at Alex even though I know he had nothing to do with the images online. Yet, I felt like it was his fault. Which isn’t fair to him at all. I texted the crap out of his phone, sending him snippy messages, when we could’ve easily chatted about on the phone or when he got home.”
“Except it’s not something that can wait if a journalist is chasing you down the street.”
“For what? Let’s be honest here, I have nothing to give them.”
Basha shrugs, and the waiter is back with my drink. We place our order and wait for him to be out of earshot. “People like shiny and new.”
“No, people hate change. They were a favorite couple and I feel like I’m intruding.”
“I’ll be honest, I knew who they were as a couple and was surprised when they broke up. They were local celebrities around here.”
“Great.” Except nothing feels great. I feel like I’m wasting my time in a relationship that is going to cause me more pain than anything. No one wants to spend their time wondering how they’re stacking up to the competition. Regardless of Alex and Maggie being together, I’m an outsider and to everyone else, I’m intruding.
After we eat, we sit and discuss work. We talk about the upcoming writers conference in San Diego and wonder if we should go.
“I want to,” I tell her. “Escaping some of this cold for a week would be nice.”
“We have to decide so we can set up appointments for pitches.”
“I think we should go and set up a spa day or something. I could use one.”
“Well, let’s tell Jonathan on Monday. I’m game. Do you think others want to go?”
I think for a minute and know Sibley would definitely want to join us. She’s our suspense guru and is always on the hunt for something that keeps her on the edge of her seat.
“Definitely Sibley,” Basha agrees. “I can’t imagine many non-fic authors will attend, but you never know.”
“Russ wouldn’t go,” I tell her. “He doesn’t like to travel or be in large crowds.”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Okay, well it’s settled. Let’s talk to Sib in the morning and see if she wants to go with us, and then we’ll beg Jonathan.”
Basha and I pay our bill and then head toward the exit. She grabs my arm and pulls me away from the door. “Look,” she says, pointing out the window.” Outside, there’s a small group, five or six people, huddled around. Three of them have cameras around their necks, and one of them is the man who followed me here.
“Son of a donkey’s ass,” I mutter. She laughs and then quickly apologizes.
“You should call an Uber.”
“Or I can ignore them?”
“You’d be safer in an Uber.”
She’s right, but they’re a waste of money when I can easily walk. I pull my phone out and request a rideshare. The ETA is under five minutes. Basha waits with me.
“They’re going to start as soon as I leave here.”
“I’ll distract them.”
“How?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ll dance or pretend like I know one of them.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do this for me.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, it might be fun.”
The car pulls up and Basha heads outside to verify the license plate and then motions for me to make a run for it while she works to divert the group of people toward her. I feel ridiculous, but here I am running to a car with my head down, to avoid having my photo taken. And for what?
Nothing.
I shouldn’t care.
Truth is, I don’t. It’s the invasive questions that I care about. If these people need to take my photo and watch my comings and goings, so be it. Just don’t ask me how I feel about Alex. My feelings toward him are off-limits. I text Basha, thanking her for saving the day, and sit back for the three-minute car ride.
It’s all for naught though because as soon as the driver pulls up to my curb, there’s a man with a camera talking to the doorman. I don’t think it’s a passerby or some coincidence. He’s waiting for me.
I get out of the car, keep my head down, and ignore him calling my name. Thankfully, he doesn’t get past the front door. I’ve never been so thankful for a secured apartment building in my life.
Once I’m back in the comfort of my apartment, I change into sweats, grab a glass of wine—because let’s be honest I need it—and the manuscript I’m editing before sitting down on the couch and turning the game on. I rarely watch television, let alone sports, so I have Alex to thank for today’s broadcast. If he hadn’t left me a note on which channel to find the game on, I wouldn’t have a clue.
During the National Anthem, the video pans over the players. They focus on Noah for a bit, before zooming past the rest of the Pioneers. I barely have time to spot Alex before the camera switches back to the singer.
Alex warned me that unless I’m paying attention, I won’t see or hear much about him. His role, while important, isn’t talked about often. Unless of course, he’s messing up, which he says, rarely happens. If ever.
I still don’t understand the game, but it’s on in the background while I edit. I manage to finish another three chapters and then take a break to refill my glass of wine. It’s then that I focus on the television for a moment. The Pioneers are losing, and the commentators are talking about the uncharacteristic errors Alex Moore committed during the game.
“Bert, it’s the reason he’s been benched.”
Wait, what?
I move closer to my television and look at the number on the jersey. Sure enough, the guy in front of Noah, who is pointing at other players, isn’t Alex. Immediately, I download a sports app to see what they’re saying about Alex. If I thought the articles about us on Friday night were bad, these take the cake.
SIXTEEN
ALEX
We lost the game because of me. I couldn’t get out of my own head enough to feed Noah the ball. The one job I’m good at, and I couldn’t do it. While Riley gets his reps in during practice, he hasn’t seen the field since the preseason. Probably something Coach will change now that he knows I’m a total fuck up. I have never, in my years of playing, had a game like I did today. I’ve never let my team down in such a way they couldn’t count on me. and I’ve never been benched.
I don’t know what happened, whether it was the stupid articles, hearing how upset Kelsey was and feeling like she didn’t trust me, or knowing Maggie planned to return to Portland. Whatever caused the spiral, I need to figure it out. I can’t afford to hurt our chances of making the playoffs. The day after we won last year, we all decided we wanted to repeat, and we had the team to do it. If I can’t do my part, I need to step aside.