Chapter three
Cameron
Cameron sat back against the uncomfortable chair that had been in his publicist’s office for as long as he could remember. He shifted his weight out so that the painful cramping feeling in his lower back would stop.
“Now,” Sharron, his publicist said leaning forward onto her desk. “You’ve got yourself into a real mess this time. The talk show interview you did has helped repair some of the damage. There’s still a great deal to repair..”
“You’ll work something out,” Cameron told her supportively. “You’re the best, that’s why I hired you.”
Sharron shook her head. “Look,” she said sharply. “I have other clients on my books that need me. I can’t spend all of my time cleaning up your messes. I spoke to the manager of your team on the phone today. He says that if there’s one more headline before the big game, then you’re not going to be playing.”
“That’s bullshit,” Cameron spat out quickly. “I’m the best player on the team.”
Sharron gave him a condemning look. “You don’t show up for practice, you don’t pass the ball. You’re in the papers every other day for drunken antics. You’re not worth the effort Cameron. People are starting to realize that.”
A cold, heavy feeling sank into Cameron’s stomach. He could feel it sitting among the acid like an artic stone that would never lose its chill. “So, what are you saying?”
“You need to clean up your act,” Sharron told him flatly. “You need to keep your head down, go to practice and start playing like a member of a team.”
Cameron nodded. He knew that what Sharron was telling him to do was simple. He knew that for most people it would have been easy. It wasn’t easy for him though. The last time he’d tried to go sober, he’d ended up almost losing his mind. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t deal with the way the days kept coming when he was sober. He needed the liquor. He needed something to ease his mind from the troubles and numbness that wouldn’t go away.
How was he supposed to stay sober when his life was so empty? What was he supposed to do to fill the long hours that stretched between games and practices?
“I mean it,” Sharron warned him. “It’s not just your team that’s on the line here.”
“It isn’t?”
“No,” she told him without warmth. “I’m sorry to say it, but if you get yourself into trouble again before the game, then I’m going to have to let you go.”
“But, it’s your job to sort out other people’s messes,” Cameron interjected. “Why would you complain about doing your job?”
“Because,” she pushed herself up from the desk, so that she was standing and looking down at Cameron in his seat. “Some people just aren’t worth the time and effort.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” Cameron asked her in desperation. “How am I meant to sort everything out?”
“I’d start with a program,” Sharron suggested pushing a pamphlet into his hands.
He looked down at it. It was for an alcoholic anonymous program. “Are you kidding?” he looked back up at her. “This isn’t even private.”
“That’s a good thing. If people see that you’re trying to change, then perhaps it will repair some of the damage you’ve done to your reputation.”
“This is ridiculous,” Cameron was starting to feel backed into a corner. “I don’t even have a drinking problem.” he lied.
“Okay,” Sharron shrugged. “Well, you can do what you want, but I’ve told you what’s going to happen if you mess up. What comes next is totally up to you Cameron. Make sure that you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions.”
Cameron stood up from his chair. He could feel Sharron’s eyes reaching out to his, but refused to look at her. He was angry. How could everybody turn on him like this? How could his team threaten to ditch him? Didn’t they want to win? Didn’t they want at least one able-bodied player on their team? And Sharron – how could she do this to him? He’d paid her thousands over the years. He was her first major client. How could she threaten to turn her back on him? It wasn’t right.
He walked out of her office. The day was fresh and the sky held a steadily climbing sun. He could tell that the day was going to be a hot one. He looked at his watch. It was only ten in the morning. Would there even be a bar open yet, he wondered to himself as he headed down the street and away from Sharron’s office.
“Hey,” something soft hit into his side. He looked down at the familiar face that was scowling at him. “You need to watch where you’re going.”
“Ashley?” he asked, when he’d managed to find her name from the jumbled up memories he carried.
“What?” she snapped. “Should I be touched that you remembered my name or something?”
He laughed. She was just how he had remembered her. A thought struck him. Perhaps, it was more than coincidence that he’d crashed into her. “Do you want to go for coffee?” he cut through her glare with an easy smile. He noticed that the urge to get a proper drink had died down slightly since he’d started talking to her.
“You must be joking?” Ashley’s faced screwed up, as she tried to find the punchline.
“No,” Cameron told her lightly. “I think we need to talk.”
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