“To the public, yes, probably. And the minute you do, the rumors will spread. But if you don’t, you’ll still look guilty but you’ll also look stupid. You have too much on the line to risk it.”
He’s right.
We spend the next hour going over every possible course of action. We need to wait to see how the story gets released and what Mitch told this girl. Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.
But if it is bad, then we have plans in motion for that too.
I leave the house feeling more confident than I did when I got there, but not enough to throw on a party hat and celebrate. I’m fucking pissed and I want to use Mitch’s face as a punching bag. Still, Coach and I agreed that if I reach out to him at all, if I freak out, it’ll make me look more guilty. So, once again, I keep my fucking mouth shut. I’m going crazy not being able to talk to anyone about this and now I need to find a lawyer, one I can trust to not take my story to the media.
“Do you want to crash here tonight?” While I’ve had a few drinks, I need to be alone right now.
“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks, Coach. I’ll talk to you soon.” I head to my car, but I have no intention of going home.
I spot a nondescript motel I can crash at along the road, and what’s even better is it has an adjacent bar. When I step inside, I walk right up to the bar, grabbing the closest stool available. The bartender waltzes over like a sexpot to take my order. She rests her forearms on the bar top and it’s then I notice the artwork adorning her arms.
“Nice tatts,” she tells me, nodding to my arm full of ink.
“Right back at ya,” I say. Her lips are bright red and her dark hair is curled on top her head. She’s a modern day pinup girl.
“What can I get ya?”
“Scotch, neat.” She pours the drink and pushes it to me.
“I’m Carla. Just call me when you need me.” She leaves with a wink, heading to serve the next patron. I need a distraction tonight and Carla may be my go-to.
I open my phone to see my other options. Alex S. Amanda. Anna. Ashley. Bailey. Becca. Becky. Bella. Bria.
Fucking Bria.
I lock my phone and throw it on the bar, suddenly not in the mood to fuck around. Hell, that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.
“Girl troubles?” Carla comes back over and refills my glass.
“Something like that.” I don’t want to be the cliché who dumps all my problems onto the bartender, but she’s eyeing me expectantly like she’s waiting for just that.
I glance up at the TV hanging on the wall, averting my gaze from Carla’s piercing eyes, and my face falls. Oh, fuck.
Seeing my reaction, the hot bartender turns around to see what I’m staring at. The captions are on the TV since the music and hum of patrons too loud for anyone to hear anything.
I guess I don’t have to tell her about my woes after all. She’s seeing them first hand, with my face all over the screen.
Former soccer star Tatum Trevino has left his cleats on the field. The top goal-scorer for the LA Elite has left the prestigious club team to pursue a career in coaching at Palm Valley University. But the question remains, did he leave on his own or was he forced out? I’m Meredith Hale and this is only the tip of the iceberg with this story.
Fucking Mitch.
“Care to talk about it, Tatum Trevino?” She smirks.
I consider her as I gulp the rest of my drink. “You know what, Carla, I don’t really feel like talking.”
Chapter Ten
Bria
“Did you see the news? Tatum has been all over it.” I’m flipping through the channels when Morgan comes up and plops down next to me.
“It’s all rumors. I’m not going to waste my time listening to gossip.” The truth is, of course, I read over every single article I could find this morning. Our new assistant coach is trending on Twitter and Facebook; I couldn’t get away from the stories if I tried.
“You’re defending him now?” She’s accusatory and I roll my eyes.
“He’s a person. I don’t know what he did to get here as our coach, but until there’s actual facts out there, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
She eyes me, her green eyes pinched into a squint. “Are you fucking him?”
“What?”
“Shoot me straight, Bri. You’re spending all these extra hours with him, you’re always so sore, and suddenly you flipped from hating him to defending him? You’re obviously sleeping with him.” I stare at her incredulously. Where does she come up with this stuff? “Look, I don’t care, your secret is safe with me,” she smiles, “but you need to give me all the dirt. How’s his dick game? God, it’s probably incredible. You lucky bitch.”
“Morg, I’m not fucking our coach. Don’t be foul.” I shudder.
“Your loss,” she says, but she still eyes me like she doesn’t believe a word I say.
Classes started today and some of the girls are already doing homework. Most of my professors are chill and stuck to the syllabus-only first day of class, thank God. But we still have practice tonight and it will surely be interesting with the news coming out and all the speculation.
When we pull up to the field, we can see Coach Paxton standing by himself. Lately, Tatum has been with him at the start of every practice, but not today. I can’t help but wonder if he’s gone for good.
“Did you guys see what’s being said about Tatum? They’re saying he beat someone half to death. Another source said he failed a drug test. My sister says both are true.”
I whip my head around and come face to face with the queen bitch of the soccer team who loves to tell us about her sister, who is some hotshot journalist or some shit. I never listen to what she says and either way, I’d bet she’s lying.
Samantha is a midfielder, but she sometimes switches to forward. She was dropped back to mid when I took her position as striker. She’s was gunning for team captain this year and has been a super bitch to me ever since I was named captain. It’s only gotten worse since my private sessions with Tatum started.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask her and she raises her brows at me.
“You might want to bite your tongue.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She smirks. “Don’t think we all don’t know what’s going on between you and our new Coach. It’s no surprise you’re sticking up for him.”
“Why the hell does everyone keep saying that? There is nothing going on aside from training.”
“I’m sure you have to say that. Maybe you should hurry up and marry him. Then you won’t have to testify against him when he gets arrested.”
“He’s not getting arrested and we’re not getting married. You’re crazy.” I huff and tighten my ponytail in anger. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sam.”
“If nothing’s going on, then I guess there’s nothing to be jealous of, but I won’t lie. I’ll be first in line to watch what happens when Paxton catches the two of you.”
She stalks away toward the field with her army of bitches in tow.
“Don’t listen to her, Bri. If nothing is going on, there’s nothing to find. Don’t let her get in your head.” Morgan throws an arm around my shoulders as we head to the field.