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“Can you tell us who you interviewed today?” someone up in front asks first.
“We just had a great conversation with Lincoln Nash.”
Lincoln Fucking Nash.
I knew it. That rumor was true after all.
“How did it go?” I yell out from the back, forgetting my pledge to sink down quietly in the back so Ryan didn’t spot me.
Oops.
See? My temper sometimes gets the best of me. At least I didn’t ask what I really wanted to ask, which was something along the lines of how terrible of an asshole was he or how quickly did you kick him out of the interview.
“Jolene, good to see you again,” Jack says, and I nod politely, keeping my face schooled that he actually knows my name. I spot a few of the male reporters glance over at me, and I know what they’re thinking.
He knows my name because I’m a woman.
He probably doesn’t know the names of most of the men in here, but he knows me.
They’ll assume I’m sleeping with him, and if I get the job, it’ll be because I used my pussy to get there. I hate that assumption with everything inside me. I will prove them wrong.
He knows who I am because I covered a big event for him a couple years ago, and the fact that he knows who I am—the fact that he already trusts me—could bode well for me snagging the open correspondent position.
“It was a great conversation, but we have more interviews to conduct over the next few days,” he says.
Other people ask more questions, and I scribble my notes as I go.
There’s not much to say here. Jack isn’t giving anything away, but he’s had to become an expert at dodging questions over the years.
Rivera already knows I’m here. I may as well try to dig in for more since the others in the room aren’t asking the right questions and I need to know if they’re leaning toward Lincoln or someone else.
“How will you decide who you’re going to hire?”
I hear a few laughs and jeers at my question, but I don’t care. There are always laughs and jeers from the male reporters aimed at the females in the room.
“We’ll use a number of factors to determine the final candidate,” Jack says. “How well he knows the game, strategy, motivational techniques. But above all that, I think you just get a feel for a person when you meet them, you know? His presence. How he’ll fit into the culture we’ve established here. How he plans to rebuild a team that’s coming off such a successful season.”
“Do you think you’ve already found him?” I press.
He draws in a breath at the question then purses his lips a little as he crafts the right answer rather than the real answer I’m looking for.
But the way his eyes dart around the room tells me that yes, they’ve found him.
And my gut tells me…it’s Lincoln Nash.
I need to do something to stop this.
“I think we’ve met with a number of potentials, and we still have a few more interviews to conduct before we’re able to announce anything further.”
Someone else asks another question, but I’m still sitting here trying to figure out how to get to Jack Dalton to tell him the truth about Lincoln and his family.
He doesn’t deserve the position. The whole Nash family is untrustworthy. They’re manipulators and liars, and because they’re so slick with what they do, everybody worships the ground they walk on.
Except the Bailey family.
And I will do what I have to do to expose the truth. After all, I’m a reporter.
That’s my job.
