Hate to Love Page 7

"That doesn’t answer my question," Julie says. "If you were so good to her, why would she lie about the abuse?"

  I feel my lips curving into a snarl. I don't want to have this conversation. This situation never should have happened in the first place. I didn't want to talk about this with Mr. Slidell, or with the coach or ownership, and I sure as hell don't want to talk about it with Julie. I'm at the point, though, where it's obvious I don't have much choice in the matter. As much as I don't like it, Julie seems to be my only chance.

  "Do you know who Bobby Kilmer is?"

  "Is he an actor?" she asks.

  "No, he's not an actor."

  "Then, no, I don't know who Bobby Kilmer is."

  "He's my teammate," I say. “He's the grandson of Robert Kilmer, a Hall of Fame player. He didn't want to go as Junior or The Second."

  “Anyway, Bobby used to be a good friend of mine. He spent a lot of time with Vanessa and me. Then I realized he was spending a lot of time with just Vanessa, and not me."

  "Oh," Julie says.

  "Yeah," I say. "And it just so happens he wants to take over my position. So, we broke up. Apparently, I haven't been upset enough about it."

  "What do you mean?" she asks.

  "I think Vanessa flattered herself into believing that she was far more important to me than she actually was, and expected it to crush me when we broke up and she left me for Bobby. It didn't, and I didn't leave the team, so he didn't get my position. Maybe this is her way of getting back at me for embarrassing her and pissing him off."

  "Your relationship wasn’t important to you?" she asks. "I heard you were shopping for engagement rings for her at one point."

  "Well," I reply with a shrug, "yeah. I guess. I was planning to eventually propose to her."

  "That seems pretty important to me," she says. "Not that I really have a personal reference point for that."

  I sigh.

  "Look, I've been with her for a lot of years. Everybody was used to seeing us together, and thought we were good together. It was good for my image to have a pretty girlfriend who hung off my arm at events. But the thing about pretty girlfriends and athletes is eventually fans expect you to do the wholesome family thing and get married. "

  "So, you were willing to marry a woman you weren't in love with, and let her devote her life to you, just so you could look good?"

  I can hear the disgust in Julie's voice, but I don't need to justify my relationship to her.

  "It's not like I was going to spring it on her. She had been hinting around for months. I just didn't realize she was playing me and Kilmer off each other. Whichever one of us seemed to have better prospects, and a more appealing future ahead of us, was who she wanted."

  "Why would she think he had a more appealing future than you?"

  "He convinced her he was going to get my spot and the franchise tag. I'd already started having some... issues with public relations and had a few rough games at the end of the season. Kilmer told her I wasn't going to last on the team, and that he was going to step into my place with the favor of ownership, and the fans, and all the endorsements... everything. That would put him on a trajectory of major success and leave me stranded."

  "So, it doesn't bother you that the two of you aren't together anymore?"

  "I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't angry when we broke up. But I really don't care anymore. I wouldn't want to be with her even if she changed her mind. I think that offends her. She wants me to be upset, and angry, and send me spiraling out of control."

  "That's not too far off from what happened," Julie pointed out. "I wouldn't necessarily say you are completely out of control, but you're definitely teetering on the edge."

  I lean slightly toward her, meeting her eyes so I know she's hearing every word I say to her.

  "I didn't do anything to her," I say. "I never hurt her. She's doing everything she can to manipulate people, and it could destroy my career and my future."

  "I believe you, Shane," she says.

  I'm surprised by the comment.

  "You do?"

  She nods.

  "I do. I'm not sure why exactly, but I do. It’s more likely I'm just projecting my own experience on to you, and I don't want her to get away with it."

  "Your experience?" I ask. "Did some guy do that to you?"

  I feel unexpectedly defensive for some reason, and I'm relieved when she shakes her head.

  "No," Julie says. "I've never actually had the opportunity for a man I'm in a relationship with to treat me like that. What I'm talking about is the man I came here to Pennsylvania for."

  "Online dating?" I ask. "You came here to meet a guy who doesn't exist?"

  Julie grimaces.

  "I might be stupid, but I’m not that stupid. No, I thought he was going to give me a chance at my dream job. I came all the way up here after meeting him once because he promised me a position. When I showed up for what I thought was going to be my first day, though, he looked at me like I was crazy. It took that confusion, which rapidly turned into pity, for me to understand that he had been hitting on me when we met. He essentially told me he dangles jobs in front of women like carrots to get them in bed. I didn't go along with it, so he didn't actually think I was going to show up for the job."

  "Wow. Harsh," I say. “What an asshole.”

  "To say the least.”

  "Not that what you went through doesn't completely suck," I say, "but what does it have to do with Vanessa?"

  "It was complete manipulation," she says. "They both set out to control us, and it changed the way people look at us. It might not be exactly the same thing, but I can commiserate with you a little. Just like it's completely unfair for him to manipulate me as a really twisted way of trying to seduce me, it's beyond disgusting for her to lie and try to get sympathy and ruin your reputation with false accusations. I don't think she should get away with it."

  "What did you do to stop that guy from getting away with it?"

  Her cheeks flush briefly, and she looks back down at her computer. She seems to have picked up that particular diversionary technique from Mr. Slidell.

  "Nothing," she admits. "But that's completely different. He humiliated me, but it didn't impact anybody else. It was a one-time thing. What he did was shady as hell, but there's no way I could prove what happened. I'd rather just put it behind me and move on. Your situation with Vanessa, however, is completely different. Her lies could cost you your job, but if it escalates, it could even land you in legal trouble. I will try to prove she's lying about you. I'm not sure how, but I'll figure something out. "

  I move from the chair to the seat beside her and look at her screen.

  "What are you doing?"

  She slides her eyes sideways at me, letting out a slow breath that seems to be her way of keeping herself level.

  "I'm trying to find out as much as I can about what people are saying about you. On news articles, blogs, Twitter – anything I can use to help me devise my approach."

  "What do you have in mind?"

  Chapter Six

  Julie

  "I'm not really sure," I say.

  Is that really the best I can do to inspire some confidence in him? For now, at least.

  What I want to say is I have no idea where to even begin. From what I'm seeing as I scroll through news articles, tabloid spreads, and countless videos taken on shaky phones and posted everywhere known to man, Shane is, in the most professional of terms, screwed. He has messed his reputation up royally, and this new scandal has only made it worse. Like I said, the good old boys and dreamy-eyed girls who make up the vast majority of his fan base might get uncomfortable or a little angry when they see Shane acting up in a bar or shouting at a waiter. But they're a hell of a lot more likely to accept that than support someone they think abused his girlfriend. That's something they simply will not tolerate.

  With every new picture, video, or comment I see, I feel more and more like this might be a lost cause. Then I think about the pro
mise of a bonus and a raise, and my mind drifts over to the possibility of maybe doing such a good job that Mr. Slidell offers me a permanent position as a representative. It would be fantastic – much more fantastic than losing my job will be if I don't do well. I know giving up isn't an option. I have to buckle down, figure this out, and survive a summer with Shane while I scrub his reputation clean and create a brand-new image. Maybe this is some bizarre karmic punishment for taking a little bit of pleasure in finding out Shane wasn't doing quite so well anymore. Alright. Maybe more than a little bit.

  I'm about to point out an article I'd noticed from this morning detailing the accusations against him when I hear a knock at my door. It’s jarringly loud, but that's to be expected when construction paper and glue sticks could have crafted a structure with more integrity and privacy than these walls.

  "Expecting someone?" Shane asks.

  I think I see a glimmer of jealousy in his eyes and hear a bit of tension in his smoky voice, but I push those thoughts down. Why would he be jealous? I could have a never-ending stream of naked men doing the Cupid Shuffle throughout my apartment, and he would have no reason to worry about it. I'd probably worry about it. But Shane wouldn’t even give it a second thought.

  Setting my computer down on the cushion beside me, I unfold my legs and walk over to the door. The peephole barely shows anything, but it's enough that I know who's standing on the other side of the door, holding what looks like a pizza box. I unlock the door and open it.

  "Mrs. Livingston," I say. "What a… pleasant surprise."

  "Hi Julie," she says, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head as she tries to peer around me into the apartment. "It looks like the delivery man brought your pizza to the wrong apartment by mistake."

  I twist my face into a quizzical look and tilt my head at her.

  "I didn't order a pizza.”

  "Oh," she says cheerfully. "Then I guess I ordered it and they delivered it to the right apartment on purpose. It must have just slipped my mind. You know. Age. Let's have lunch."

  She shoves the box into my chest and pushes past me into the apartment.

  "Mrs. Livingston, I'm actually –" I start, but I can't get the whole sentence out of my mouth before she sees Shane.

  "Oh! I didn't realize you had company!"

  Bull. She's probably heard every single word we've said and called for pizza the second she recognized Shane's voice.

  "Hello," Shane says, standing up. "I'm Shane Lawson."

  "I know who you are," she says, holding her hand out to him. "I watch you all the time. I'm Gloria Livingston, Julie's neighbor."

  "It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Livingston," Shane says, putting on the charm.

  "You can call me Gloria," she says.

  I've never received such an offer. What the heck.

  "Mrs. Livingston, we're actually working right now," I say gently.

  "Working?" she asks.

  "Yes," I tell her, staying by the open door so I can hand her the pizza on her way out. "I kind of got a temporary promotion today. I'm going to be Shane's PR rep for the summer."

  "That's wonderful!" Mrs. Livingston gushes. "I know that's what you came here to do. I mean, not for Shane in particular, but in general. I guess your history will help with that."

  Shane's eyes slide over to me, and I cringe.

  "Thank you," I say. "Yes, it's going to be quite the challenge, so we really need to focus."

  I gesture with the pizza box toward the door, and she waves me off casually.

  "I totally understand. Don't you worry. I'll just sit here quietly and eat my pizza. Do you mind if we turn on the TV? Jessica will be on soon, and I just can't miss her."

  Yes, because fake mysteries solved thirty years ago by a widow from Maine have a universally irresistible draw.

  At least the pizza smells good. It reminds me I didn't get a chance to eat lunch, and my stomach grumbles in protest loudly. Closing the door, I turn the lock and carry the box over to the coffee table. I set it down and head to the kitchen for plates. When I come back into the living room, both have slices of meatball and onion pizza in their hands.

  Classy.

  Taking one of the plates for myself, I set the rest beside the open box, reach in, and grab myself a slice. Shane eyes the plate in my hand.

  "Paper?" he asks.

  I glare at him.

  "Yes."

  "That's sophisticated."

  "Says the man holding his hand under his slice of pizza so he doesn't drip grease on his lap."

  "Have you not unpacked all of your dishes, yet?" Mrs. Livingston asks.

  "I have one plate, two cups, and a soup bowl," I say.

  My teeth sink into the slice, and I take a few seconds to savor the richness of the cheese and the spiciness of the meatballs. I've been living off the bare necessities of groceries and leftover pastries from the coffee shop to save as much money as I can, so this is a major indulgence for me. It might be mostly oil, and I'm going to have the smell of garlic and onions emanating from my pores for the next couple of days, but it tastes like sheer luxury to me.

  "That doesn't seem like much to set up a home with," she says.

  "It's all I need for me."

  "But what about when you have company, like now?"

  "I don't have company," I say. "I have my next-door neighbor who I spend almost all my free time with at her place, and one client. That doesn't really justify pulling out the fine china and crystal glasses."

  I take another bite and can feel both of them staring at me.

  "What if there was a special man in your life?"

  I hear Shane try to muffle a laugh and shoot a glare in his direction before turning back to Mrs. Livingston. I hold my arms out as if to indicate the entirety of myself.

  "This is what I've got," I say. "This is it. The only guy in my life right now is yellow, rubber, and lives his life stuck to my shower wall."

  "He's a little creepy," Shane says. "I had to close the shower curtain when I was in there."

  "Worried he was judging you?" I ask. "Anyway, now that we're done with this afternoon's episode of 'Julie’s Sad Adult Life', can we move on with work? We really don't have a lot of time."

  "You go right ahead," Mrs. Livingston says. "I'm just going to put on my Jessica. I won't be a bit of trouble."

  Between her and Shane, I feel like I never actually left Virginia.

  "I think the key place to start is dealing with Vanessa and her accusations," I say. "Immediate damage control with that is going to make a huge difference. We can work on building you up a little bit later in the summer, but for right now this is about handling the crisis in front of us."

  "What do you suggest we do?" Shane asks. "I've already told everybody who’ll listen to me it's not true."

  "Everybody?" I ask. "I heard you tell Mr. Slidell, and the men in the coffee shop, and me. I'm assuming you told your coach. Who else have you been able to talk to, though?"

  "Not many people," he admits. "But it just happened. I haven't had enough time."

  I sigh, running my fingers back through my hair.

  "That's the problem," I say. "This thing just keeps getting worse and worse the more time that passes. We are just chasing it."

  "Then why don't you have a press conference?"

  Shane and I both look at Mrs. Livingston. She's making her way through her third slice of pizza and hasn't turned away from the screen.

  "Well," she continues. "You just said he needs to tell people that woman's accusations aren't true. He can't go around town knocking on doors and talking to each person individually. Even if he could, what's that going to do for the rest of the people all around the country who are watching him? I'm not sure how far the rumors have stretched already, but if they've gotten out into the world, it's going to cause him serious problems. He needs to nip this in the bud. The fastest way to do that is to get him in front of as many people as possible."

  "Nip it in the bud?" Shane asks. "Is th
at really the expression?"

  "Yes," I say.

  "Are you sure?" he asks.

  "Yes," I say, a bit more exasperated. "I'm sure you've heard it before. It's used back home plenty."

  "No, I know, I've heard it before. I just didn't realize that's what people were saying."

  "What did you think they were saying?" I ask.

  "Nip it in the butt."

  I don't know if I should laugh or be shocked that this grown man has gone through thirty plus years of his life thinking people were saying nip it in the butt.

  "What?" I ask. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

  "Like a dog nipping at you," Shane says. "If you were doing something, and a dog hopped up and nipped you on the butt, you'd stop what you were doing, right?"

  "I suppose I would," I say.

  "It just makes more sense to me. I mean, seriously. What is nipping in the bud? What would that even mean?"

  "Flowers, honey," Mrs. Livingston says with a chuckle. "It's talking about flowers. A late frost in the late winter or early spring can kill the flowers while they are still in the bud phase. It will nip them… in the bud."

  She is speaking to him so carefully, I half-expect her to pull out a felt board and do a demonstration for him.

  "Oh," Shane says.

  There's a moment of awkward silence.

  It's nice to see a flicker of embarrassment run across his face. It'll do him good.

  "Anyway… I think having a press conference is a great idea. It'll give you a chance to confront the situation head-on. You can step up, acknowledge what's been going on, admit the wrongs you’ve done, but also vehemently deny everything she's said about you."

  "Don't you think that could go badly though?" Shane asks. "What if they start asking a bunch of questions?"

  "They probably will," I say. "Doing a press conference is going to put you out in the public eye and will open you up to questions you might not want to answer. It's probably going to be an uncomfortable situation, but you can't really get around that at this point. Putting yourself out there is going to at least show the public that you're not hiding anything. That's what we want right now. You want to look transparent, honest, and trustworthy."