Chapter Twenty-Five
When I woke up the next day, I knew I had to go back and face my failure head-on. Dad made sure I went to morning mass first. It wasn’t like other people didn’t lose their jobs. It had never happened to me, though. The last time I failed this spectacularly was when Henry broke up with me. It wasn’t pretty, but it was very public. I put in my Bluetooth and called Paige when I knew she was awake.
“Shit’s hitting the fan with the baseball team again,” she said instead of hello.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Liv, this is serious. Apparently, there’s a gambling scandal.” She paused and said hi to somebody in the distance. “I heard Devon’s name attached to it.”
“So? What’s the big deal?” I pushed down my blinker to signal my merge. “They do silly betting on stupid stuff.”
“But not on baseball? Or any other sport?”
“Unless beer pong or who can go farther on a Slip-N-Slide counts as sports, I’ve never seen or heard about it.” A light rain pattered against my windshield as I got closer to Des Moines. “You were around them, too. Did you ever hear them bet on a game?”
“No, not really. I heard them bet on stats, though.” Paige sighed into the phone. “The basketball team stayed away from it completely. They didn’t even bet on what color underwear they were wearing.”
“Thank God. I wouldn’t want to know.” I stifled a laugh. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Who cared if they bet on the outcome of the World Series or if Jason Carter won the MVP? Who cared if they bet on a pitcher’s ERA? They never bet money.
“You really don’t get how serious this is, do you?” Paige sound incredulous. “Liv, if anyone is caught gambling on sports, they’re banned for life from playing.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I mean, I get if they threw a game or bet on their own team, but any sport? Even like the PGA?”
“Any sport, including the PGA.”
It sank into my skin like thick Cornhuskers lotion, only it didn’t make me feel better. “But I still don’t understand. The punishment for gambling is worse than Betts’s steroid scandal? Or am I wrong?” I honestly hadn’t paid much attention to what happened to Aaron Betts other than what Devon had shared.
“Crazy, right? Westland expelled Betts for the steroids, but he could actually play baseball for another university. If any member of the team is busted for gambling, they can’t even play at a community college. I doubt a beer league softball team would touch them.”
“That’s insane.” I shook off the injustice of it and focused on Devon. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. Devon didn’t gamble on anything. He’s not stupid enough to risk losing his scholarships over it.”
“Maybe not, but it’s on the hotwire around here. I’ve gotten texts from everyone I know. Hailey sent me one at seven this morning. Can you believe that? Like I’d ever be awake before noon on a Sunday. At least my social exile is over.” Paige groaned on the other line. “I hate the rain. It makes everything colder. Anyway, when will you be back? I’ll come over tonight and we’ll talk.”
“I’m outside Des Moines now, so another couple of hours depending on traffic. Should definitely be there by six.”
“See you then. I’ll gather any other intel I might have.”
Paige disconnected, and I pulled the Bluetooth from my ear, tossing it into the passenger seat. I wanted to call him and ask, but the roads were getting slick. I needed to concentrate on driving. If this was anything like Betts’s steroid scandal, Devon would keep it close to his chest until he was ready to open up. Besides, Devon really wasn’t stupid enough to gamble knowing it would cost him everything he had worked for. Was he?
The rest of my drive was gray and gloomy with rain steady against my windshield. The temperature stayed above freezing at least. Driving in rain was one thing, driving in sleet and ice were odds I didn’t like too much.
I parked in front of my building, noting Paige’s car in my usual spot. The minute I opened the driver’s door, the skies opened and the rain came down in sheets. In the five hundred feet from my truck to the front door, I was soaked to the bone. The chills settled into my body by the time I got to my front door.
Paige sat on my bed with her laptop, the glow from the screen the only thing illuminating her face. She sipped from my favorite mug.
“You break it, you’re buying me a new one,” I said as I closed the door.
“I bought you this one. And mine’s dirty.” She smiled and glanced at me. “Did you get wet?”
“Ya think?” I pulled off my dripping coat and laid it over a kitchen chair. “I’m going to take a shower then you can let me in on all the scoop.”
“Okay, but you’re not going to like this.” She continued typing on her laptop. “Not one bit.”
I wanted to rush through the shower, but the heat of the water warmed every inch of me. I knew if I jumped out, I’d be freezing again. When the water started to cool, I climbed out and wrapped myself in my thick terrycloth robe. A rare splurge on my part, but totally worth the money during long winter nights. I put my PJs on underneath, keeping the robe on as an extra layer of warmth.
“It’s not that cold,” Paige said when I stepped back into the living room. She moved her feet so I could plop down beside her.
“You didn’t get stuck in a downpour in thirty-five-degree weather.” I pulled my quilt over my legs. It was nice to be under it again. Five days without it felt like a lifetime.
Paige mumbled something and pushed her laptop toward me. “Here. Read this.”
The headline read: More Trouble with Baseball
Westland University’s baseball team has seen its share of scandal recently, but are steroids the only problem? After sitting down with numerous sources who have close contact to members of the team, I’ve discovered the trouble with the team runs much deeper than Aaron Betts and Seth Fisher. Several members of the championship team have done the unthinkable. They’ve gambled on baseball.
“Who are these sources?” I asked out loud.
“It gets worse. Keep going,” Paige answered.
Gambling has been an issue with baseball since the Chicago Black Sox scandal in 1919. Eight players threw games for financial gain. Although the players were acquitted in a court of law, they were banned for life from the game they loved.
The NCAA rules clearly state that a student athlete can be banned for life if they bet on any team while at Westland University. Athletes can be suspended for playing fantasy sports, betting for or against other teams, and internet gambling. Westland University’s own bylaws enforce the rules of NCAA’s sports wagering, but our school takes them one step further. If a student athlete gambles on any sport, they will be expelled immediately, much like the performance enhancing drug policy.
Because of this bylaw, Westland’s baseball team could be all but dismantled before the season even starts. Several members of the team, all upperclassmen, are under investigation for violating the sports wagering policy. While it would be unjust to name said students until the investigation is complete, my sources have shared several occurrences where gambling has taken place including wagering on another player’s opinion of a sporting outcome.
“Oh no,” I whispered. I scrolled back up to the byline. Hailey Ransiko wrote the piece. And the photo beside it was the girl Paige and I talked to a few weeks ago at CuppaJo. She asked weird questions then. I knew I didn’t trust her. Now I knew why.
“Yep,” Paige added. “That bitch pumped us for information, and we didn’t even realize she worked for the school paper. I feel like an asshole. Seriously, Liv, I thought she was my friend or I wouldn’t have even introduced you to her.”
“But we didn’t tell her anything.” That I remember.
“We talked like songbirds.” Paige touched my shoulder and I faced her. “She asked about the guys. We told her about the bets. Even if they weren’t sports related, we gave her leads.”
I skimmed the rest of the piece. None of the players were mentioned. Neither were we. Devon couldn’t know I talked to this woman. Except she approached us at the student union more than once. That didn’t mean anything, though. She had been dating Chuck Mathis. Her source could be herself. I stared at Hailey Ransiko’s pretty face. The sly smile on her lips screamed snake in beauty queen looks. I wanted to smack her.
And I wanted to know if she told anyone that I was one of her sources. If Devon got expelled over this mess, he’d never speak to me again. We’d have fought to get together for nothing.
A complete stranger could’ve just ruined everything.