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“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Gunnar here brought with him a flock of reporters; it’s almost like a deja vu of when you first started working here. We were shooting the shit, since this is likely the last time that I’ll get a chance to.” Mr. Lyons cuts in. “I haven’t had a chance to ask her, so, who is the blonde?”
I groan and lean my head back as Gunnar laughs and responds. “That’s our realtor. I like my women brunette with the name of Sawyer. That one is likely a clinger, I feel bad for her husband.”
“It’s a shame that Sawyer here no longer works with the Hornets, I haven’t seen them put out anything regarding your trade or these articles that came in this morning. But I guess it’s a good thing that Arizona swooped her up and put her on payroll.”
“Media relations and marketing are two different wheel-houses. This time, she’ll have to explain the reason for the players doing something, rather than reshaping us and making up look better than we are.” Gunnar responds with another squeeze to my hand.
“Am I even in the room? Hello guys.” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Well, I’ll let you two chat. I have fires to put out of my own. Sawyer, Rachael is up to date on what her tasks are, correct?” Mr. Lyons directs to me.
“Yes sir. I checked in with her before coming over here. She’s on the up and up, quick on the uptake of information and will do well with her new accounts.”
“Very well. Let us discuss later your final days here, and make sure that I’m up to date on everything, just in case. I know that you’ve trained her adequately, but I probably should have a handle on what my staff are doing, I assume.” Mr. Lyons jokes.
Gunnar and I leave the confines of Mr. Lyons office and I turn to him.
“Well, what are you doing here?
“I came because more articles are publishing. Someone in Arizona is selling some bullshit about me playing house with Julia. There were preliminary photos that the team saw that are obvious with you being Photoshopped out, because you were there, but it just shows Julia and I walking in and out of the house.”
“Oh goody.”
SIXTEEN
GUNNAR
I PULL out my phone and open up the email that the Hornets new media person sent everyone in an email blast, about an hour ago. When the articles were published this morning, I laughed at the ridiculousness of them. Someone went as far to Photoshop Sawyer out of photos that she was clearly in for the sake of an attempt to create a story of lies.
I handed my phone over to Sawyer, she scrolled through the email, and the photos attached. She enlarged the images and then handed the phone back over to me with a laugh.
“Whoever took the photos knew that they were lying, but are greedy as fuck to have done something like this. Has it hit national or is it just local?” she asks.
“I’ve been in touch with Dwayne over in Arizona and they got word of it too. It appears to be someone looking to tarnish the trade for their own leg up. There is really no point in acknowledging the accusations because that would be feeding into the vultures, so I guess we just have to be united with it. Are you okay with that? With not saying anything?” I ask her.
“I agree. Acknowledging the rumor would be exactly what the person who took the photos want. I’ll have to call Dwayne today and see if they need any information from us regarding it. It would be shitty having to do damage control before I even started working for the Gila Monsters and having to retract footsteps for the public,” she responds writing down a note on her notepad.
“I’m sorry babe.” I apologize.
“Why?” She looks up to me in confusion.
“That shit like this happened in the past, is happening and may likely happen again in the future.” I shrug.
“That’s what I get for falling for the player,” she returns with a playful smirk and a small lift of her shoulder.
THERE WERE MORE photos that came out and they were blasted all over the gossip columns and across multiple platforms. My social media was blowing up and all I wanted to do was to refute all the slander that was occurring, but I knew that I should remain quiet until we had better instructions from the Arizona team. In a few days, something else will capture the attention of people and these blatant lies will be forgotten. At least that is the hope.
We had a game tonight, so I did what I could to focus on that rather than the bullshit. I can control the game. I can kick ass against Denver here at home, but I cannot control the lies that someone decides to tell. I learned that the first time around with Sawyer.
We won tonight’s game, which brought our rankings in the National league all that much closer to being in the playoffs or at least getting a chance at the wild card. We’re not likely to play into October, but now that we’ve had four solid W’s, the Skipper is much more optimistic than he was when we were in Denver, which brings the Hornets up in the standings.
This may put a snag on our plans to move at the beginning of October, but that would mean I would have more chances to win the pennant with the Hornets.
I’m exhausted and dragging ass as I wait for the elevator to open up onto my floor where our condo is. I unlock the door and step inside, it’s almost eleven at night and even though it’s late, I smell the richness of Sawyer’s homemade pasta sauce wafting through the space.
My woman is standing at the stove, stirring the sauce dressed simply in a white t-shirt and a pair of my boxer shorts. Her hair is in a sleek ponytail and she’s humming quietly to herself, lost in the song and unaware that I’ve come home.
