Chapter Seven
Three days later…
"So, what you're saying is not everything your former girlfriend accused you of is a lie?"
My teeth tighten against the wording the reporter used. He's smirking at me from behind black-rimmed hipster glasses I can almost guarantee have no prescription, and that go perfectly with his greasy pompadour. I know they are just trying to trip me up and make me say something they can twist and manipulate into a confession.
"She isn't accusing me of anything. I'm not interested in sitting here and besmirching Vanessa’s reputation. That's not the reason I decided to do this press conference."
I can't believe I just used 'besmirching' in a sentence. It's one of the go-to phrases Julie gave me when we were preparing for the conference. I've been unsure about doing this from the moment it was first mentioned. The last place I want to be is sitting here, talking about Vanessa, in front of every reporter, blogger, and sports expert the team could fit into the room. Despite my reservations, I eventually decided to just go along with it. If Julie really thinks it will make a difference, I'll sit here and let them lob questions, and accusations masquerading as questions, at me. I'm doing my best to stay calm and answer them how Julie told me to. Over the last three days, we've spent hours watching similar conferences and practicing the types of responses I should give.
"What is the reason you came here to do this press conference?" another reporter asks.
"As I've said before," I say, "I'm here to acknowledge the accusations, and give my official statement."
"But why now?" Hipster Glasses asks. "Your reputation hasn't exactly been glowing in the past year or more, yet you've never made any attempt to set the record straight or defend yourself. Why are you coming forward this time? It seems to me this is an attempt to distract us or cover up something else you feel guilty about."
I feel my heart pound violently in my chest. This has quickly escalated from denying Vanessa's accusations to defending my life choices. This is exactly why I didn't want to do this in the first place, but there's no turning back now.
"You're entitled to your own opinion about me," I say. "That's one of the best things about living in this great country. You can think anything you want, but you don't get to perpetuate lies about me. Until there is concrete evidence to anything she's said about me, or about our relationship, I am innocent. And I'll tell you right now, there is no evidence. I am innocent. I regret many of the choices I've made. I believe I started this conversation by saying that. I did wait too long to open up this type of discussion, but I'm only human. I strive to be the best I can be, but sometimes I make decisions I shouldn't. I admit I haven't been a good role model lately. I'm coming forward now in light of false accusations that could not only damage my personal reputation and my professional life, but also the way children look at me. I want to reassure the public that I'm on a path of personal healing, and change."
I quickly go back over what I just said, making sure I recited every word Julie had me memorize. I hate feeling like a puppet, and I'm not even sure it's working. Most of the faces in front of me are just as stern as when I first started talking.
"The public?" Glasses asks with a mirthless laugh. "Is that really how you refer to the countless fans who have supported you throughout your career? I think they deserve better than that.”
My hands clench, and I can feel my blood boiling. I try to keep myself calm, and not express how furious he's made me. I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I also know that if I let out even a fraction of the frustration I’m feeling, this will result in the opposite of what Julie's trying to accomplish. If I let even one sentence out, this press conference will essentially turn into my retirement party. I draw in a deep breath and try to formulate the right words. My eyes slide over to where Julie's standing. She hovers near the door, watching me carefully. I can see the desperation in her eyes, her hands clenched right under her chin. A slight, almost imperceptible nod from her gives me the nudge I need.
"I didn't say that. I would never suggest something like that. I said the public because for now, that's all I have the right to call the amazing people who have followed me, supported me, and welcomed me into their home during every game and appearance of my career. They are the real reason I'm here today, and I will continue to do everything I can to prove myself innocent and once again earn the right to call them my fans."
An audible sigh ripples through the crowd, and Julie's shoulders relax as a smile breaks across her face. The mood of the conference takes an upswing from there, and soon I'm able to steer the questions and conversation to a satisfactory conclusion. When it finally ends, and everyone starts filing out of the room, Julie deftly dodges and navigates her way to me.
"You did great," she says." I can't believe how well you handled that jerk. I was positive you were going to fly over the table at him at any minute."
"Don't think I didn't think about it," I say. I lean back in my chair, combing my fingers through my hair. "That was fucking brutal."
She nods.
"It was," she says. "But I also feel like it was a step in the right direction. You definitely got a few of them thinking."
"You really think so?" I ask.
I see Coach, Mr. Tinker, and Mrs. Evans walking toward us. They're smiling at me in a way I haven't seen in longer than I'd like to admit. Coach reaches his hand out to me as he gets closer. I take it, and he pats me hard in the back with his other.
"I must say, you surprised me. And that doesn't happen very often. I didn't think you'd actually be able to turn this around."
"Well," I say, "I don't necessarily think I've turned it around, yet."
"Maybe not," Coach says, "but at least you're moving forward now. You finally got yourself a rep who seems to know what she's doing. You are taking the initiative and actually putting some effort into this. I'm proud of you, son."
"Thank you," I say. "Julie's got me on a tight leash. She says she's going to be able to get my endorsements back and everyone on my side again by the end of summer."
"I'm hoping so," Mr. Tinker says. "You keep doing whatever she says."
"I will."
They walk away, and I turn to Julie.
"I've got you on a tight leash, huh?"
"I had to tell him something," I say. "I still think most of this is bull."
"Are you serious?" she asks. "You went through all that, and you're still going to be this stubborn?"
"I'm not being stubborn," I say. "I'm being realistic. Do you really think me sitting up here and saying a few words that sound good is actually going to make a difference?"
"Yeah, actually, I do. Half, if not more, of the people in this room today still probably think you were lying through your teeth. But at least you got them thinking. At least you were able to get through to some of them. We're just going to keep working on the rest. Besides, look how happy your coach and the owners were. They're thrilled you're actually doing something."
"That doesn't have anything to do with me," I say. "They're just thinking about themselves."
Julie lets out an exasperated sigh and throws her hands up.
"Fine," she says. "If that's the way you want to be, then go for it. You can drag your feet and be as pessimistic as you want to be. Cut your damn self from the team before the first game for all I care. Just keep yourself in line until then. Your future isn't the only one riding on this, and I'm not going to let you pull me down with you. "
The smile from before has disappeared from her face, and she turns on her heel, stalking out of the room. I wait a few minutes before leaving. Walking into a swarm of reporters would not be a good move right now, according to Julie. As soon as I step out of the conference room, I find myself immediately wishing I had waited a little longer. Only a few steps away, Kilmer stands, his eyes burning into me. He stalks toward me before I notice Vanessa is standing behind him.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" I ask.
"I bet you thought that was real cute, huh?" he sneers.
"What?"
"Your little show in there."
"How'd you get in here? You aren't a member of the press."
"Maybe not, but I am your teammate, and my girlfriend happens to be who you were up there talking shit about. Those people at the door didn't even bat an eye when I walked in. Shows how much they care about your safety. It seems they're already shifting their concern to the soon-to-be new face of the team. Don't worry, though. I'll be sure to have a really nice speech prepared when I talk about your timely retirement."
My fist forms so tightly I can feel my nails cutting into my palm. Vanessa steps up beside him, and I see her smirking at me. This is exactly what she wants. I relax my hand. I won't give this to her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask. "Why would you do this to me?"
She gives a look of mock confusion and innocence.
"Do what to you, Shane? All I did was tell the truth. I want to empower women everywhere to know they aren't alone, and that they are strong, and can rise above the abuse." The simpering look turns into a vicious smile. "How was that? Do you think it was convincing? I'm thinking about using that for my next interview. A couple of talk shows are sniffing around."
"Everything you've said is a lie," I say.
"Of course, it is," she says with a bitter laugh. "Isn't it so perfect, though? Everybody believes me, and it isn't even that hard. You've been so out of control they're all just looking for more things you've done wrong. Bobby came up with this. It's been so easy. All I had to do is sniffle a little, cry a few tears, and babble about trying to make you better. They lapped it right up."
"I didn’t do anything to deserve this bullshit," I hiss. "Why, Vanessa?"
"Because you deserve to be knocked down a few pegs," Kilmer interjects. His eyes are filled with contempt and hatred. "You've never known what it's like to have to live in someone's fucking shadow. All of us work just as hard as you do, if not harder, and everyone ignores us, because compared to the mighty Shane Lawson, we're nothing. But that's going to change. Your time has passed. You're not coming back from this. Not this time."
There's so much I want to say to him, but I swallow the words down. Instead, I step around him, and walk out of the building. I get into my car and head straight to Julie's apartment. She hasn't physically worked at the firm building since Mr. Slidell first assigned her to work with me. He agreed to let her work from home since she doesn't have an office of her own, and it wouldn't be the best situation to sit at her secretary desk while hashing out the summer ahead of us. Every time we've met it's been at her apartment, so I don't know where else to look, and I need to talk to her.
Fortunately, when I pull into the tiny parking lot behind her apartment building, I notice her car sitting in its usual spot. The car is about as old as she is, but she told me yesterday she hasn't even considered getting a new one yet. It's always been there for her, and she feels loyal to it.
She also made me promise not to tell Rubber Duckie.
She really needs to get out more.
After parking next to her, I walk up to her door and knock firmly. Her footsteps shuffle across the floor toward the door, and I hear her mutter under her breath as she looks through the peephole. She must be delighted I'm here. The door opens, and Julie glares up at me.
"What?"
"Nice to see you, too."
"It's been an hour. I've hardly had time to long for you."
"I need to talk to you."
"Do you really?"
"Yes. Are you going to let me in?"
She rolls her eyes but steps back to let me inside.
"What do you need, Shane? Not that you care, but I'm still working."
"That's what I want to talk to you about. I want you to know I'm serious about this."
"You are? What changed in the last hour?"
"I talked to Kilmer and Vanessa."
She shuts the door harder than she probably needed to, and whips around to look at me.
"Why would you do that? Are you trying to undo everything I've done? It's just like Mrs. Livingston and the stupid blanket."
I wait a few seconds for an explanation, but it doesn't seem she’s going to offer one.
"Is that a mystery novel you've been reading?"
Julie sighs and rolls her eyes.
"Mrs. Livingston. My neighbor."
"Oh, Gloria. The woman with the pizza."
"That would be her. She's decided I need to learn how to knit. I started a blanket. I didn't even get through the first row of stitches before she pulled them all out. So, I did it again, and she pulled them all out."
"How many times did you try to start the blanket?"
"Seven."
"I'm not going to undo your work, Julie," I say. "I'm not the one who approached them. They came to me. Apparently, Kilmer was at the press conference."
"Where was Vanessa?"
"I don't know, which tells me it was probably somewhere she shouldn't have been, doing something she shouldn't have."
"Why were they there?"
I relayed the conversation to her, getting angry again just thinking about it. When I'm finished, I meet her eyes, fury burning in my gaze.
"I'm even more determined to figure this out now. I don't know how you're going to do it, but you’re going to get me back on track."
"You're willing to go along with me now? You're not going to argue and fight me every step of the way?"
"No. Wait. Yes. Wait." I take a moment to think about what I'm trying to say. "You need to work on clearer communication. Yes, I'm willing to go along with you. No, I'm not going to argue."
I feel like I've made a pledge of some kind, or that I watched myself make it. Maybe I just had an out-of-body experience. This doesn't sound like me. In the back of my mind, though, I think I’m desperate to find the smile that left Julie's face back at the conference room.
"Alright," she says. The smile isn't there yet, but her face doesn't look as tense as before. "Good. It just so happens I signed you up for a goodwill event next week."
"A goodwill event?" I ask.
"Yes. It'll show fans that you’re willing to get out into the community, give back, and make a difference. Remember all that talk at the conference about wanting to prove to the public you're healing, and earn back their trust and right to call them fans?"
"Yes. I came up with that."
"And it was great. It's also just a bunch of bullshit unless you plan to do something. Now it's time to back it up with some action and show the world how sincere you are.
"What are we going to be doing?"
"There's a big cleanup effort happening at a city playground. We're going to go help."
"We're going to help clean a playground?" I ask. "How's that a goodwill effort?"
"The community is made up of people who welcomed you when you joined the team. Even before you were an idol, they were willing to accept and support you. Now it's time for you to give back to them. Getting out there will show them that you care about them as much as they care about you. You want to thank them for their support and show them you're interested in their lives – even when it's not football season."
"And you're going to go with me?" I ask. "You said 'we'."
"Yes," she says. "I'm not ready to let you out on your own just yet. You did well at the press conference, but I could see you were just about to lose your shit with that one reporter. Now I'm putting you out with a bunch of families. I need to be there as a buffer."
One week later…
"I definitely don't think this is family friendly," I say as I poke the sharp end of my trash collecting stick into what is approximately the hundredth condom of the day.
"Which is exactly why we're here," Julie says with a smile much too bright for a woman who’s spent the morning trying to scour traces left by the dredges of humanity on every corner of a playground.
She reaches into the pouch at her hip yet again and pulls out her phone to snap a picture of me. She's been doing this throughout the day, capturing my civic involvement in all its glorious detail. It's not until she's taken several snaps that I realize I'm still holding the impaled condom.
"Hey," I protest. "Delete that."
"Absolutely not," she says, her smile wider now. "I very well might make that my Christmas card this year. The bonus I'm getting from babysitting you is paying for gifts, anyway."
"Come on," I plead, reaching for her phone. "Get rid of it."
She dodges me, holding the phone closer to her chest, and giggles.
It's an unexpected sound. In the short time I've worked with her, I haven't heard Julie genuinely laugh. It makes me smile, and I reach for her again. She takes a few steps, turning her back to me, and leaning over slightly. The black jeans that were as unexpected as the laugh stretch across her round ass, and I can't help but admire it. Julie looks cute in the outfit she has on today – black skinny jeans and a lacy white top. I was surprised when I first saw her this morning. Even though she's still awkward and aloof, I feel like I'm slowly getting a glimpse of the real her.
I step up behind her and wrap both arms around Julie's waist. My hand grasps the phone, but she manages to yank it out of my grip. As she tries to step away from me, I tighten my hold on her, and lift her up off the ground. Her giggle turns into a squeal, and I whirl her around a few times. It takes a few seconds before I realize I'm laughing. When I set her back on her feet, Julie tucks her phone into her pouch and smooths her hair back into a slightly messy ponytail.
She pulls away and looks over at the building where the other volunteers are gathering. "Everyone else is heading over to the activity building to work on painting," she says, sounding slightly out of breath. "We should probably go."