Page 20 of The Lion in the Library

Outside, Los Angeles was doing what it always did — bright and enormous and indifferent, full of people building their castles in the sand, hoping the tide would hold.

For the first time in a long time, I thought mine might.

SHADOWS GATHERING

LEO

Ihad grown accustomed to being watched. Fifteen years of professional football will do that to a man.

But the particular way that I was being watched on the Tuesday morning after the beach had a different quality. More personal. Less interested in the player and more interested in the man.

I noticed the photographer at the training facility first — a young man with a long lens, parked just outside the gates, adjusting his equipment with the patience of someone who’d been tipped off about something worth waiting for. When I drove out at noon, he followed at a careful distance for three blocks before apparently losing me at a red light.

I didn’t think much of it. This happened. It was part of the life. I stopped at a payphone and called Hunter.

“Tell me you’re not calling to cancel dinner,” Hunter said by way of greeting.

“I’m not canceling dinner. I’m asking if you’ve seen anything in the press.”

A beat. “Define anything.”

I waited.

“Okay,” Hunter said. “Yes. There are a few items. Nothing major yet — one of the gossip columns noticed you coming out of the library three Thursdays running, and someone connected it to the English conversation club. A photographer caught you and Estrella at an ice cream place. And...”

“And?”

“There’s a shot from what looks like that cultural night at the library. The one with the lights in the trees. You two are dancing.”

I closed my eyes briefly. The dancing. Of course. The dancing had not been subtle. I was aware of this at the time and had chosen not to care, which was a decision I stood behind and which was currently becoming complicated.

“How bad?” I asked.

“It’s not bad bad. It’s... warm. Honestly, Leo, you look like a man in a film poster. The photo is quite flattering.” A pause. “For both of you.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“No,” Hunter agreed, his tone shifting. “The problem is that it’s only a matter of time before someone with a bigger platform picks it up. Her agent’s already put out a small statement — Estrella is focused on her American film debut and any friendship with Mr. Ramirez is exactly that. A friendship.”

“He put out a statement without telling her?” My voice came out sharper than intended.

“I don’t know his process. I’m telling you what’s out there.” Hunter paused. “Leo. I need you to think about what you want here. The Aztecs are still negotiating your contract. The optics of a relationship with a woman who has complicated exes and a custody situation —”

“Hunter.”

“I’m just —“

“Stop.”

Silence. Then Hunter exhaled. “Okay. Stopping.”

“I need to call Estrella.”

“Yes,” Hunter said. “You probably do.”

I hung up. Found another coin. Dialled her number — I had it memorized by now, which was not a thing I had consciously decided to do and which told me something useful about the state of affairs.

She answered on the second ring, her voice slightly strained. “I was going to call you.”