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"And?"
I think I know what he's going to say before he says it, but I need to hear it from his mouth. What I thought could be the worst-case scenario doesn't even touch this. Because all of those things are fixable, but this…
"I think I have it handled, but you should know…"
"Fucking spit it out, Jack."
"Aniyah saw a picture and a video that were saved on my phone. Of us. One of the video chats."
"You recorded it? Fuck! Jack, what were you thinking?!"
"I wasn't! Obviously. Or I was letting my dick think for me. I'm?—"
I stand up forcefully, sending my chair crashing into the wall behind me, and tipping over. Now I'm the one pacing.
Fuck!
"How could you do this?"
"I'm sorry, I–"
"Sorry doesn’t cut it, Jack. I'm out of a job if this gets out, and you can kiss your draft prospects goodbye."
"It might not come to that. I think I've got a handle on it, but?—"
"But what, Jack!?"
"I don't know. I don't exactly trust her."
The pulse in my temple throbs so violently I feel like it could burst at any moment. My heartbeat is pushing nausea up my throat, and it burns like bad reflux. I'm so dizzy that I need to sit down, but I knocked my chair over. I walk around and sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk instead, putting my head in my hands, trying to steady the spinning room.
"Exactly how are you handling this?" I ask, my voice as calm as I can make it.
"Bribery," he says. "I told her about the signing bonus that the scouts all but promised me."
"And that was enough?" I ask, skeptically.
He makes an uncomfortable face, and I know that isn't the end of this. "There's a bit more to it, but I'm handling it."
I want to ask, but I also don't want to know. I need to know, though. Jack's phone pings and his face blanches. He swipes a hand through his hair.
"I, uh, I have to go, do a little damage control. But I've got it under control, okay? I just needed you to know. And…" he takes a shuttered breath. "I'm so sorry."
I can't even look at him.
"Bryant—" I give him a warning look, because he doesn't get to call me that. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever again.
He drops to his knees in front of me, looking up at me with pleading eyes. "Please don't?—"
His phone pings again, twice in quick succession.
"You should go," I say flatly, not looking him in the eye.
As he's leaving my office, he stops and turns around one last time.
"I'm sorry."
For a while after he leaves, I'm completely rooted to my seat. My mind is racing, but none of my thoughts are clear or useful.
