Ten
- And what do you see for yourself beyond football? Five, ten, fifteen years from now, what will you have added to the Bailey legacy?
I smiled to myself as I typed another question for my upcoming interview with Trent Bailey, the Kings’ star quarterback, then got up to fix myself a glass of water. This was only my second full day back home from Bali, and I was still rehydrating from a whole week of disconnecting from everything except relaxation - and, well, Ramsey.
Lots, and lots of Ramsey.
More of him than I probably should have indulged in, considering that I was supposedly taking time to heal, and cleanse myself of Darius. And I was thinking about Darius less and less - which was a good thing, after a break up - except instead of focusing on self-examination, I was more focused on examining… Ramsey.
He just made it so damn easy though.
As I stood in the kitchen sipping my water, memories of our time together over the past week flooded me again, heating me from head to toe. We’d gotten to know each other very, very well while being out in paradise alone, especially over those days where we’d foregone the adventure seeking, opting instead to spend our time naked, in varying stages of inebriation, talking to, touching, or tasting each other.
It was perfection.
Or the closest thing I’d experienced in a really long time.
The level of intimacy I felt with Ramsey - of all people - was mind-blowing to me. Our relationship had shifted so easily into a new normal that it made me question exactly how deep my feelings for Darius had been at all. If I could switch gears so fast, so hard… how much devotion could I have felt for him?
Hell… maybe marrying a cheater wouldn’t have been my only mistake. Maybe… it would have been marrying a man who wasn’t the one in the first place.
So are you considering Ramsey “the one” now?
I quickly pushed that thought from my mind.
For me, for now, I was “the one” - the only one my heart should belong to, after having it stomped on in such a dramatic fashion, for the world to see, by a man who I was maybe only still with because I’d been with him so long that I didn’t have another frame of reference.
But that was easier said than done, when Ramsey was so… Ramsey.
“Who will you be in ten years?” he’d asked me, our last morning in Bali. It was a question that had been playing in my mind since then – and ended up on my list of standard interview questions now. We had a flight to catch, but we’d packed the night before, only leaving out the bare essentials so that we could spend as much time as possible doing what we were doing - being naked in bed. The question hurt me, because… I didn’t have an answer. The Darius thing, plus having the show snatched from under me, had me all discombobulated.
Ten years from now, at almost forty, I wasn’t even supposed to be Wil Cunningham anymore. I was supposed to be Wil Hayward, have at least a couple of kids, and a second home somewhere sultry and beachy and warm. I would be a well-known name in sports news, as recognizable as any of my male counterparts.
Now, that all seemed… distant.
I didn’t want to say that to Ramsey though. Didn’t want to look weak, didn’t want to have him giving me a pep talk, like it seemed he was always doing for me. But I told him anyway, because that was just the effect he had on me. I was too comfortable with him to not give him a truthful answer.
He didn’t pep talk me though. He just listened, and then explained how he felt where I was coming from, with his unexpected return to the NFL. As I laid there, looking in his eyes as he spoke about being grateful for the opportunity to keep the promise to his mother, and his fears about being the same quality player he was before, and hoping to be a real asset to the team, I felt so… connected. No, our paths weren’t exactly the same, but there was a sense of synergy there that was hard to explain. He wasn’t listing out his own problems so mine didn’t seem so bad - he was relating to me. Spilling his heart and mind in a way that was beyond refreshing.
He was beyond refreshing.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my doorbell, prompting me to glance at the time. It was past ten at night, and the only person I could think of who might drop by unannounced so late was Ramsey, but it couldn’t be him. He’d started training camp with the rookies - he was in the “dorms” with them, under a curfew and subject to bed checks to make sure he was where he was supposed to be. It had to be someone else.
My guess was right - when I peered through my peephole, Chloe McKenna and Cole Richardson were on the other side, both wearing concerned expressions. Knowing both of their connections to Ramsey - his PR and his team liaison - worry had my fingers shaking as I hastily undid the locks and opened the door.
“Wil, how are you?” Cole gushed, as soon I stepped aside for them to come in. “Are you okay? Naima said you aren’t answering your phone, and she’s getting ready to come over here herself. She’s worried sick about you!”
Beside her, Chloe shook her head, all business as she headed right for my kitchen counter to take her laptop from her bag. “Tell Naima to stay put - we don’t need any added chaos. Unless Wil wants her here. Do you want her here, Wil? Just say the word, and we’ll make it happen.”
“I’m sorry - what the hell is going on?” I asked, frowning in confusion. “Why would I need Naima here? What are you doing here?” I asked, pointing between the two of them.
“My apologies,” Chloe chimed in first, extending a hand to me. “Chloe McKenna, Ramsey’s publicist and image manager.”
I accepted her hand, but shook my head. “No, I know who you are, I just… I don’t understand why you’re here.”
Chloe and Cole looked at each other, as if they were puzzled, and then Cole’s eyes went wide. “Waiiit… you… you don’t know yet, do you?”
My frown deepened. “Don’t know what?” I asked, which prompted them to exchange another glance, and then Cole grabbed me by the hands, pulling me to the couch in my living room. “Okay… you’re going to want to sit down.”
She was right to have me sit down. Just as she’d guessed, I needed extremely firm grounding to hear that this evening, while I’d been doing my interview prep for Trent Bailey, letting my phone stay on “do not disturb” so I could maintain my focus, once again the internet was running rampant with my name.
Only this time, I wasn’t a woman scorned - I was a woman scandalized, with picture evidence of my trip to Bali with Ramsey.
If it were just footage of us walking around, having dinner, on the beach, etc, that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course it would feed the long-standing rumors of Ramsey and I having a “thing”, but still easy enough to explain away, or talk around.
There was no way to talk around my head thrown back, leg up on his shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy as he screwed me - with the door open - on top of that little table behind the couch in our villa in Bali.
Apparently, two bottles of wine had made me very flexible.
Luckily enough for me, whoever had invaded our privacy hadn’t been able to get in close or get a very good angle. Somehow, I’d been granted enough grace that because of the curtains, none of the pictures had any overt nudity beyond a bit of side boob, but it was very obvious what we were doing.
Which, what we were doing shouldn’t have really been a problem, right? We were two single people - we weren’t hurting anybody.
Only, that wasn’t the story the media was running with. The story was that this trip was part of a long-term affair, that Ramsey and I had been romantically involved since before my broken engagement, and even before his too.
They were saying I was the reason he and Lena McBride were no longer together, that I had driven Darius into the arms of another woman, by being this heartless, man-stealing, gold-digging whore with an innocent face. Apparently, I only wanted to get serious with Ramsey now because I was jobless, and he had a place on the team. It was all “confirmed” by an “anonymous” source who’d “worked closely with us in the past”.
Connie and Sarita’s fingerprints couldn’t be any more obvious all over this, at least not to me. There was no way I could prove such a thing though, and even if I could, what would the recourse be?
“Ramsey is very, very concerned about making sure you come out on top in this - that is why we’re here,” Chloe explained, after giving me the lay of the land. “Because of Nicole’s position with the team, she was able to get to him, and that was the message he wanted relayed, as well as his frustration that he’s not able to physically be here for you.”
“He’s really worried about you,” Cole added. “I pushed the rules a little to let him use my phone to call, but… no answer. He wants to know that you’re okay.”
I scoffed. “I mean… I don’t know what I am right now, honestly. This is… I just feel numb. And sick to my stomach. And a little like throwing myself off a cliff. But no, tell him I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m totally fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t have to pretend to be fine.” Chloe’s tone was very matter-of-fact as she typed something out on her cell phone. “In fact, I encourage you not to. I’m very good at my job, Wil, and I assure you that for whomever is behind this “exposure”, it will not be going as they intended. I want the paparazzi to see you with bloodshot eyes, I want you to look destroyed by this, even if you aren’t. I’m tired of the world using a woman’s sexual autonomy as a way to vilify her, and if it’s alright with you, Wil, I want to pursue legal action. Criminal charges.”
I shook my head. “I… I really can’t even wrap my head around this right now. Any of it. I don’t want attention, don’t want to be an example. I want this out of people’s memories, and off their screens. I don’t want to be lied on, or have pictures of me having sex - or, for that matter, being the poor dummy that got cheated on by Sugar & Spice’s “sexiest man alive” as what people think of when they hear my name. None of my personal life - I want them to focus on my work.”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you forfeited that when you became a household name. Now that your star is shining brighter - for better or worse - the narrative has to be guided. Just as I’ve told clients in the past, you’re going to have to give the public something. It’s up to you - well, us - what that something is going to be.”
“Us?” My eyebrow raised. “You don’t work for me, you work for Ramsey.”
“And because you two are involved, your image reflects on his. My job is making sure his public perception is positive - being portrayed as a chump does nothing for him. It’s in his best interest that this is fixed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, poor Ramsey, being portrayed as a “chump”, while I get the whore of Babylon treatment. How awful for him.”
“This is the way of our world, love,” Chloe said, in a clearly sympathetic tone. “I don’t make the rules, I just do my very best to make them work for us. I heard you mention several things you wanted here - images scrubbed from the internet, and off of people’s minds. To not be slandered. And to have people focusing on your work, and not the scandal. Okay.”
“Okay?”
Chloe nodded. “Yes.” She’d been scribbling furiously in a notepad as we talked, but now she stopped, using her pen to emphasize things on the page as she read them off, then supplemented each with an explanation. “Pictures gone - not possible. In this age of the internet, those pictures are saved in too many smartphones, posted on too many gossip blogs, etc, to ever be gone. I already have my IT guy working on getting them off the larger sites as a formality, but it’s honestly futile. The way we tackle this is by changing the narrative around your relationship with Ramsey, which gives the pictures a different connotation. Right now, it looks like an illicit affair. So, to fight that, we frame you two as friends discovering love, while comforting each other through grief.”
“But that’s not—”
“Doesn’t matter. We paint it this way, and at least half the people keeping the vitriol going switch gears, which drives the story we want to tell. It won’t convince everyone, but when people’s opinions are divided, the story doesn’t last as long - gets it off of people’s minds. It works, I promise you.”
“I can attest to that,” Cole chimed in, reminding me that she was even there. “I know you remember how everything blew up around me and Jordan after the Super Bowl. Chloe was the one who came up with that whole “Love on the Highlight Reel” thing, that had people calling us “relationship goals”. Did I want to give the media anything about me and Jordan, about our past? Of course not. But giving that little bit was enough to get the world off of my back. Because the woman is always the villain, of course.”
“Of course,” Chloe agreed. “Listen, Wil, I understand that this is not ideal. But, it’s the most favorable result we can aim for right now. And besides that, focusing on the triumph of your newfound love takes away from this idea of you as a victim of your ex, as someone to be pitied. So, it works twofold.”
I scoffed. “You keep throwing around this “love” word, and I just… it’s freaking me out, to be honest. Ramsey and I are nowhere near discussing something like that, and I—”
“Ramsey has actually already given his approval of the language,” Chloe told me, smirking. “Had exactly zero reservations about it. So perhaps you’re closer to discussing it than you think. But, it’s here nor there – the public doesn’t care. Either you went to Bali together because you were sneaking around, or you went because you’re in love and wanted to get away together. Maybe if you were known for having short, public flings, there would be other scenarios, but for you… these are the options. Keep in mind that the story we give the media doesn’t have to change things between you and Ramsey. There’s the spotlight… and there’s your real life.”
“I get that, I do. It’s just…” I pushed out a sigh, and dropped my head into my hands. “This is so much to think about, while the whole world is watching what was supposed to be a private moment between me and my friend. All I want is to be respected as a journalist. How does this make me look?!”
“Well-fucked,” Cole said, then quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God – I did not mean to say that out loud. Sorry.” Her expression was remorseful, but shifted into a bit of a smirk. “But… seriously though…drama aside… yasssss, girl!” she reached to squeeze my hand, looking so genuinely happy for me that I couldn’t help a little grin from coming to my face.
“If Nicole is done,” Chloe spoke in a firm tone, but I could tell she was barely holding a neutral expression herself. “How it makes you look – if we get in front of this – is like a woman rediscovering the pleasures in life, after several hard knocks. And as far as wanting people to focus on your work, that’s as easy as getting it in front of them. Who is your next interview?”
Cole answered for me. “Trent Bailey. His schedule was so busy that we’re squeezing it in this week, before he and the other veterans start training camp.”
“Excellent!” Chloe seemed excited about that. “The interview will be a great way to remind people that you are not, in fact, jobless, and that you’re a badass at what you do. And Trent Bailey is a huge name, which helps tremendously.”
“I agree,” Cole said, nodding. “And right after him, let’s get you lined up with Jordan, to keep that momentum going. It shows that the Kings have full confidence in you – which we do – and by the time the hype from the interviews dies down, some socialite will have done something, and everyone will have moved on.”
“And while all of that is happening, my team will find out who took the pictures, and how they got into the hands they got into. This all blew up way too fast to just be some random person posting the pictures. There’s money behind this, and I intend to figure it out. From there, you can decide what, if anything, you want to do.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“So…?” Chloe asked, eyebrow raised. “Am I moving forward with this, or are you still feeling skittish? The sooner we get started, the better.”
I swallowed hard, then nodded again. “Um… do what you need to do, I guess. Whatever you think is best. I just want this all to go away.”
She gave me another sympathetic smile. “Soon enough. For now, I want you to focus on getting some rest. You need to unplug. Uninstall your social media apps. Do not look at the notifications. Do not search your name, or Ramsey’s name. Go be with your family, and your friends. You’re going to get through this, and you’re going to be perfectly fine.”
I wanted to believe her.
After she and Cole left, I told myself I’d follow her directions. I’d promised her that I would. But as soon as I got to my phone, and saw the comments ranging from ugly, to disgusting, to outright violent, I just felt… sick. That’s when the tears started, but I couldn’t make myself look away, digging deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of commentary that everybody seemed to have, everyday people and celebrities alike.
What struck me most though were the women – not the ones with nasty opinions, or even the small, but loud contingency that were cheering me on.
It was the ones who claimed to have had Ramsey before me. Women whose names I’d never heard, had never seen, had never caught a mention of on the rare occasion that he’d mentioned a date. Obviously I knew he wasn’t sexless, but aside from his dead relationship with Lena, the idea of him with other women never really crossed my mind.
Welcome to the other side of dick too bomb.
It wasn’t like there were tons of them – only a couple who were bold and wanted a little attention, apparently – and they weren’t even being disrespectful to me, not exactly. But the last thing I wanted, with everything else, was “@kellibabiii: I see @RB_TheHammer still has that hip action. That wild look in your eyes is familiar as hell @SwiftWilly congrats girl lol! Used to be me.” retweeted and in my personal notifications twenty-six thousands times. Or, “@MillyFromPhilly: damn @RB_TheHammer brings back memories. Call me.”
Nevermind that he needed to choose more discreet women for his sexual escapades – how recent were these women? Since we’d started sleeping together? Were there more? Was there someone else now?
That was the thought that finally drove me to turn off my phone, after a quick call to Naima, and then my parents, to assure them that I was okay. I was too upset, and too embarrassed for the call to my parents to be very long, but the reassurance they gave me in those few moments was enough to calm me.
A little.
A bottle of wine took care of the rest.
This definitely wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done.
But I wasn’t so invested in making a “smart” decision that I didn’t know what the right decision was, and even though there was about a ninety-five percent chance I’d get my ass handed to me by the team, sneaking out of the dorm facility after bed check was a “right” decision.
If I knew Wil like I thought I did, she was probably going crazy.
My own cell had been confiscated, but between Cole, Chloe, and my childish-ass young teammates, I had a pretty good grasp of what was going on, and it wasn’t pretty. Not just because of the rumors and lies, but because I’d seen those pictures, and I knew Wil… this wasn’t the kind of thing she could sit with and be okay about, not this soon. Neither Cole nor Chloe had come back to me with a report that made me feel any less uneasy about Wil’s mental state, so I took matters into my own hands.
I showed up at her door.
I hesitated a bit before I pushed the bell – it was damn near two in the morning, and in a perfect world, she’d be peacefully asleep. I pressed the glowing orange button anyway, because the likelihood of that was low, and she confirmed my suspicion a few moments later, when she opened the door with puffy, swollen eyes.
“Ramsey… what are you doing here? We clown rookies when they get in trouble for not following the rules of training camp. What are you doing out past curfew?”
I frowned at the way she leaned in the doorframe, with a thick, fluffy robe pulled tight around her, obviously not intending to let me in. “I came to check on you, Champ. Chloe said you seemed… out of sorts.”
Wil scoffed. “Out of sorts? Hm. That’s one way to put it.”
“Okay, so, let’s talk about it.”
“What is there to talk about?”
“How about I come in and tell you?”
She pushed out a sigh like I was asking for a big ass sacrifice, then stepped aside to let me in. As soon as the door was locked behind me, she turned, arms crossed, and stared me down. Everything she was feeling was on her face – the hurt, the shame, and for some reason… anger, seemingly directed at me.
“Hey… talk to me,” I said, stepping toward her to wrap her in my arms, but she eased back, holding up her hands to keep me away. I frowned. “Yo… what’s up with you?”
“What’s up with me, is that I have no interest in being embarrassed again. I went through it with Darius, having another woman telling me about what was supposed to be mine. I’m not going to do that again.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about, Wil?”
“I’m talking about Kelli, and Milly, and now Shauna, all on twitter, in my mentions, talking to me about your dick. Kelli and Milly, fine, they spoke about you like it was in the past, but the Shauna chick? You can’t tell me she’s not recent!”
My frown deepened. “Wil, me being here right now, to see you, is jeopardizing my career, and you want to talk to me about some chicks on twitter?”
“So you’re not denying that it was recent?” She propped her hands on her hips. “How recent? Since the show ended? Since you and I got involved? Since you got the call from the Kings?”
“I could’ve fucked her yesterday and it wouldn’t matter, because you were the one who was all on this “not ready for anything serious”, “let’s just be friends” shit!”
She jerked her head back, eyes wide, and instantly glossy about something I knew I shouldn’t have said. “Well how about this – I’m off all of this shit, and you can get the fuck out of my home, how about that?” she spat, then turned to stomp down the hall, with me right behind her.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her to face me. “That’s not how this is about to work. How about we back up and you tell me what the actual problem is?”
She snatched away from me. “Apparently, it’s that I dared to need a little bit of time before getting serious with someone else after an eight year relationship!”
“Nobody has a problem with that, Wil.”
“Then why the hell did it come out of your mouth?!” she snapped, glaring at me.
“Because I’m pointing out that it’s not fair for you to pull this jealous shit on me about some casual flings that were months ago, when you aren’t even trying to be serious! You don’t get to claim ownership if your ass isn’t… claiming ownership.”
She scoffed. “Oh please, Ramsey. You weren’t complaining about whether or not possession was determined yet when you were knee deep in my pussy in Bali, getting all kinds of “man” privileges without the title.”
“Right, and I wasn’t in your goddamn face about who you might or might not be fucking either!”
“Okay, cool, so since you “could’ve fucked her yesterday and it wouldn’t matter”, I guess I have those same liberties then. Cool. Terrence Grant was giving me the eye when I was at the Kings’ offices the other day, maybe I’ll give him a call.”
“The hell you will,” I growled, surprising both of us, but fuck it. “That’s some more shit we aren’t about to do.”
“Oh, because you decided?!”
“You’re goddamned right because I decided. If you think I’m with that sharing shit, you’ve lost your damn mind. I know you’re upset about the pictures and all of that, but what the hell is wrong with you?!”
“If refusing to let you have me out here looking stupid is wrong, then a helluva lot, asshole,” she said, through gritted teeth, obviously trying not to let emotion overtake her words. “If you’re going to be screwing other people, just fucking tell me, so I can opt out of this shit before I… Ramsey, please,” she half-said, half-sobbed, as she lost her battle with the tears she was trying to hold back. “Chloe McKenna wants to tell people we’re in love, that you’re supposed to be my Prince Charming, but I swear I’d rather people think I’m evil, a homewrecker, whatever, than to push this story only for you to make a damned fool of me.”
Shit.
I hated seeing her like this, and I instantly felt bad for pushing this particular button with her. It may have seemed over the top to me, but her betrayal was still relatively fresh, and with this scandal happening at the same time – that negatively affected her more than me – her nerves had to be raw.
Over and over – growing up, and even now – I saw the men around me skirt around commitment, not wanting to be “locked down” to one woman. They did shit that fed insecurity, bred an atmosphere of competition, out of what I’d long ago clocked as immaturity. My cousin – my brother – Reggie… God knows he’d done some things that made him not the first person I’d look to as an example in plenty of categories. But one thing I’d observed, and absorbed, in the way he treated Chloe – he never let another woman believe she might have a chance at Chloe’s spot. He never made Chloe believe another woman had a chance at her spot.
“Nobody but you, Champ,” I said, recalling that lesson as I shook my head. “Nobody but you. I wouldn’t be friends with somebody I planned to embarrass. Wouldn’t fucking… zipline in a foreign country a week after signing an NFL contract for somebody I had any intention of playing like she was stupid. I wouldn’t be in your living room, right now, when my ass is supposed to be across town in bed, if making a fool of you was even an option in my mind. Nobody but you. I need you to understand that.”
I waited for her to respond, and when she didn’t, looking down at her bright yellow painted toes instead, I grabbed her hand again. This time, she didn’t resist, not even when I pulled her up to my chest, then used my free hand to tilt her chin up, making her look at me.
“No one except you,” I told her again, adamantly, wanting to make sure my words got through. Still though, she said nothing, and instead of repeating myself anymore, I tried a different language – I kissed her. And I tried my best to pour enough feeling into it that it would dissolve the insecurity that dealing with the clown had left behind. As soon as she moaned into my mouth, my hands went under her robe, under the hem of her tee to touch her bare skin and pull her closer, against the hardness I didn’t even bother trying to help around her.
“Ramsey,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You know we can’t. You’re already out of bounds, and you have practice in the morning, and—”
“Nah.” I shook my head, then slid a hand between her thighs, pushing a first, then second finger into her. “I need to prove this point real quick.”
She gasped as I pressed a thumb to her clit, working it in circles as I stroked her with my fingers. “Sex won’t prove your point, Ramsey,” she panted.
“Maybe not,” I muttered against her ear, then kissed a trail along her jaw, up to her mouth. “But making you come might get me back on your good side, right?”
That made her laugh, so close that I felt her lips curve up against mine. Pushing my fingers a little deeper turned that laugh into a moan as her knees gave out a little, causing her to lean into me for support.
Relief sank my shoulders as she buried her face into my neck, holding on to my arms. “Stop, so I can talk,” she whispered to me, and I did, waiting for her to speak. When she looked up at me, there were tears in her eyes. “You’re not on my bad side, Ramsey. I’m… scared. The story Chloe wants to tell… it’s too close to the truth.”
“Then maybe it’s not a story. Maybe it is… the truth.”
She shook her head. “Ramsey, don’t play with me.”
“Wil, you know I don’t play that type of game. Not ever. Especially not with you. If you need to explicitly hear me say I want you to myself, here it is - I want you to myself. Maybe it’s a bad idea, maybe neither of us is ready, but shit… we’re here now. And I don’t think either of us is confused about what’s happening. I mean, I’m not. Are you?”
“No.”
I shrugged. “Well then… you stop freaking out about whatever was said on twitter, which Chloe probably told you already anyway… and we let her take care of this. And, by the way, since we ended up taking a sharp left – I’m sorry this shit is happening. I don’t like you talking down on yourself, so having all this going on… I’m hot about it. For your sake. I don’t give a shit what they’re saying about me.”
“I know you don’t,” she whispered, bringing her hands up to my face. “I know.”
I took the softness of her voice as my cue to pick up where I’d left off earlier. She was still wet, still so warm, still so… welcoming. She gasped, then buried her face in my neck again as I stroked her into that orgasm, then picked her up, carrying her down the hall to her room.
I’d just have to drink a red bull or something before practice.
I took a deep breath before I rang the doorbell. The Baileys were expecting me, but… still. After the way this week had started, I was on edge, and wasn’t really sure what to expect.
I put that aside though, choosing to ring the bell anyway – as if I had a real choice. If Chloe’s plan was going to work, I needed to do this interview. And more importantly, if I had any interest in preserving whatever credibility I had left… it had to happen.
I offered a polite smile when the door swung open, trying not to appear surprised that Jade herself – Trent’s wife – had been the one to answer the door. Immediately, my brain went wild – what if she thinks I’m here to pull some sort of crap with Trent? I’m already working on negative points if I have the woman of the house on the defensive with my personal shit – but Jade returned my smile, and welcomed me inside.
She and Trent had a beautiful home, which wasn’t surprising at all, if I judged from her appearance. Jade wasn’t just attractive – she was polished – even in simple, designer lounge attire that accented the perfect roundness of her pregnant belly. The sight set off a pang of something that wasn’t exactly jealousy, but… it wasn’t not jealousy either. From my outside perspective, Jade had a lot of things to be envious of, but that baby bump – something I’d spent years wanting – made my throat hurt a little.
She placed a protective hand over her belly and I tore my gaze away, plastering a smile on my face and hoping I didn’t look insane. I quickly realized it was just a subconscious thing for her – as quickly as she’d placed it there, she moved it away as she led me down the hall, making small talk as we approached the gorgeously decorated living room, where we would be doing the interview.
I wasn’t surprised at all to see Cole there – she’d already told me she would be – and I was glad to see her and Trent laughing like old friends. I hoped that her presence – and her vouching for me – would put the him at ease, if there was any discomfort in his mind about this whole thing. There was no way he – or anyone else in the sports world, for that matter, hadn’t heard.
Before he left the other night, to sneak back into the training facility, Ramsey had done his best to try to convince me Trent would be cool. After all, Trent had faced scandals of his own, in the not-so-distant past, so he knew how that privacy violation felt.
I understood that, I really did. And when Trent greeted me, he seemed perfectly cool, just as Ramsey said.
But still.
Because of the feeling I wanted for this interview, I didn’t bring along a camera person, or any crew. It was just me, setting up a couple of cameras and mics. Creative editing would pull it all together later. All I needed was the words.
So I didn’t waste time.
I got right to it, with Jade and Cole hovering close by as I asked Trent ice-breaking questions about his love of dancing, listening while he told me about his dearly departed Uncle Shank and his battle with AIDS, which led into a – rather lovely – few moments spent speaking in very high regard of his uncle’s wife, his Aunt April. I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from squirming with excitement – this was something I’d never heard him talk about in depth in any interviews, which made it journalistic gold. He wasn’t answering a question anymore – he was just talking to me, with no regard for the cameras, which was the goal. Still, I made a note that for this segment, at least, I needed to let him review this to make sure he was comfortable with all of this being viewed publicly.
Because we were on the subject of family – something that, again, Trent didn’t talk about very much, at least in any interview I’d read or seen – I went to my mental checklist of questions and asked about his parents, and their influence on the man he was today.
The whole mood in the room changed.
Trent shifted in his place on the couch, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, in clear discomfort.
Shit.
I’d tried to research, but had hit a dead end in publicly available information out there about his parents. I didn’t realize asking about them would be stepping into a minefield.
“Next question,” Jade called sharply, from the doorway. Trent and I turned to her at the same time, to find her with folded arms. He got sympathetic eyes – I got a look of warning, which I was experienced enough to heed. If I got on her bad side, I knew this whole thing would go down the tubes quickly, which was the opposite of what I needed.
“Of course,” I said, nodding. “We can move on. Let’s shift focus. When you came to the Kings, you were something of a breakout star. Talented, handsome, charismatic – you had that magic combination that creates the “It factor” a player needs to dominate professional sports, and you were well on your way to becoming one of our biggest stars… and you jeopardized that. Ended up in prison. What lessons do you feel you learned from that experience? Would you give up that knowledge in exchange for your time back?”
“Okay, you know what?” Jade interjected as she stalked into the living room, before Trent could answer. “I wasn’t going to say anything about this interview, because at the wedding you seemed cool, but I see now it was just an act. You’ve had it out for Trent – don’t think we didn’t see your comments about him on that little show you got kicked off of, and now you come into our home asking questions that he’s already answered for people like you, over and over, already. Who the hell are you to question him about his past?”
“Jade,” Cole said, putting a comforting hand on Jade’s shoulder, at the same time Trent did too. “Wil doesn’t mean any harm.”
“I really don’t,” I added, hoping I wasn’t making things worse as I wracked my brain for what I’d said in the past that had caused offense. She turned to me wearing a bit of a scowl, and something about that jogged my memory. “To answer your question – who the hell am I to question him? – I’m a fan. A huge Trent Bailey fan, from the first day I saw him on my father’s big screen TV and said “Damn, he’s fine, who is that?!” and my daddy almost blew a gasket about me cursing in front of him.”
I kept my tone light, hoping she wouldn’t take my comment about Trent’s attractiveness the wrong way, and to my relief, she smirked, so I continued.
“Jade, I care about every interview I do, and every player I talk to. It’s always my goal to be fair, and nuanced, to give the viewer, or listener, a look into the heart of a real person, not just a replica of the same questions and answers they’ve done over and over. But sometimes that does mean putting the elephant in the room out there, and not skating around it. I promise you, if we can continue, we’ll have an end product that gives a real glimpse into the man you love. Yes, his flaws, but his triumphs as well. And, being transparent about the flaws only makes the triumphs shine that much brighter.”
The scowl on Jade’s face relaxed a bit, but then she hardened again. “And why exactly should we trust you, other than Cole’s word, after you went in on him on national TV?”
“Because that should let you know just how passionate I am. Again – I’m a Trent Bailey fan.” I directed myself to him when I added, “And that’s why I was so disappointed when you went to prison. I’m not going to try to make it sound sweet now – yes, I went in, just like I would still on any young player who made the same sort of mistake. Because I want to see us thriving, and a professional football career isn’t a chance that many get, so to see it thrown away… I was mad. But I was also proud as hell when you came back, and turned it around, and I know you saw that too. I sat and filmed a New York local show in rival Connecticut Kings gear for half the season, between you and Jordan Johnson, because I was rooting for you.”
“Oooh,” Cole inserted. “I remember that. You had folks on twitter hot for days that first time you wore a Bailey jersey on the air.”
“And I wore my Kings gear anyway,” I laughed.
“Well, listen,” Trent spoke up, stepping forward. “I’m convinced, and I’m ready to answer whatever you got for me. And Jade is cool too… right?” he asked his wife, wrapping his huge frame around her petite one to say something in her ear.
Whatever he said, she wasn’t very pleased by, but she relaxed enough to let me know the interview was going forward. Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief, but that still wasn’t quite the vibe I wanted to have for the duration.
“Jade… would you be interested in being part of the interview?” I asked, as new inspiration struck me. I was already formulating new questions in my head as Trent basically answered for her, by pulling her down onto the couch beside him.
I took my own seat, and smiled at the two of them, knowing – if my intuition was correct – exactly where to start to get us going in a positive direction.
“So, Jade – your wedding was absolutely beautiful, and you were a stunning bride. Tell me what it’s like to be newlyweds.”
She and Trent exchanged a look, and then smiled, like they knew a secret we didn’t – exactly how a newly married couple should look, in my mind – and then Jade sat forward and began to speak.
Two hours later – about an hour after Jade left us to move on to something else – I walked out of the Bailey residence with footage from what I thought could very well be one of the best segments I’d ever done. We’d managed to strike a balance where Trent – and sometimes Jade – were very open, without giving more of them than anyone needed. I couldn’t wait to get home and re-watch the footage, but as soon as I got into my car after tossing my equipment bag on the passenger seat, I dug out my phone to call Ramsey.
And then immediately got sad, because… I couldn’t call Ramsey.
He’d managed to avoid any repercussions for sneaking out, but now that they were really into the swing of training camp, he couldn’t have any distractions. If there was an emergency, of course there was a way I could reach him. As excited as I was though, this was not an emergency.
I’d just have to tell him later.
Just thinking about him made my heart race now. Not that it was much different than I’d felt in Bali, but once again something had shifted. We hadn’t really said the words, but we were basically together now.
As he’d said, ready or not… here we were.