Poppy’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. “Okay, look, I’m—”
“No, you look.” Rosaline darted a quick glance over her shoulder before stepping closer, standing hip to hip with Poppy. Her perfume tickled Poppy’s nose, woodsy and sweet, citrus and patchouli. “I have been Lyric’s publicist for the better part of a decade, during which time I have seen everyone from her parents to the media to guys she’s dated, even people who have called themselves her friends, try to exploit her. Her ownparents,Poppy.” Rosaline pursed her lips. “I have very low expectations of most people, and for good reason. When I saw that article, I assumed history was repeating itself. Most of the time the most obvious explanation is the right one. You can’t blame me for being cautious.”
Caution was one thing, condemnation another. “No, but you can’t blame me every time something goes wrong and then—thenstonewallme. You aren’t the only one with a job to do here.”
A crease appeared between her brows. “You’re right. A lot of what I said to you on the phone was reactionary. I was a bitch to you and for that, there’s no excuse. I should’ve brought my concerns to you in a more...” She shook her head, lashes fluttering as she seemed to struggle to find the right word. “I don’t know. Diplomatic manner. We should be working together, not against each other. I’m sorry.”
Poppy let her breath out slowly, shoulders falling, the fight draining from her, Rosaline’s words a better balm than she could’ve imagined. “I—okay.”
Rosaline frowned. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I accept your apology.”
Rosaline looked at her askance, green eyes wary. “Just like that?”
“What? You want me to make you grovel or something?” She offered a tentative smile. “That’s not really my style. Just promise you won’t do it again and we’re square.”
“Okay.” Her eyes flitted over Poppy’s face, making her warm all over. “I promise.”
Poppy released a breath through her nose and turned back to the field. The Pathfinders won the coin toss and elected to kick. “Favored by three points, you said? You know the over/under?”
“Forty-seven.” Rosaline joined Poppy in watching the field. “Should be a good game.”
“For Cash’s sake, I’m hoping for a shutout.”
“With the way the Falcons’ offense has been looking so far this year? I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Unfortunately, Rosaline was right, the odds of a shutout were slim to none. “As long as they win, I guess the score doesn’t really matter.”
Cash had never wanted to win a game as badly as this one. Not even the Super Bowl, he’d said.
Rosaline hummed in agreement as Lamar Reynolds, the Pathfinders’ kicker, sent the ball soaring, the Falcons fielding it in the end zone for a touchback.
“By the way, I tried, but I couldn’t get Cash out of today’s postgame interviews.” Under the league rules, players were required to be available to the media after every game and at least once during the practice week. Avoiding the media came with a hefty price, a $50,000 fine for not abiding by the NFL’s policy. Players diagnosed with concussions were exempt from mandatory media obligations until cleared per concussion protocol, but that was about it as far as exceptions went. She’d checked, but unless Cash wanted to fork over a cool fifty grand, he was SOL. He was doing well for himself, but not well enough to throw around that kind of money. He wasn’t that frivolous either. “But don’t worry; we’ve rehearsed what he should say if he’s asked about Lyric, and he knows to block and bridge to generate intrigue instead of outright—”
“Poppy.” Rosaline sighed and Poppy could’ve sworn it sounded almost fond. “It’s Sunday. We are at a football game. Do you really want to talk about work?”
Well, no, but—what else were they going to talk about? The weather?
“Besides,” Rosaline added. “I trust that you’ve properly prepared Curran to handle the media.”
“You do? I mean—” She cleared her throat. “Good. I’m glad. Because I have.”
“Good,” Rosaline echoed, sounding amused. “Now, nix the work talk. Barring a crisis, Lyric has made me promise not to talkabout work today under threat of bodily harm, and seeing as how I take my promises seriously...”
“Is that why you’re here then?” Poppy asked. “In case of a crisis?”
“If that’s your way of asking if I’m suggesting you couldn’t handle a crisis on your own should one arise, I’m not. I’m here as Lyric’s friend, not her publicist.”
“She’s your only client, right?”
“Mhmm.”
“How’d that happen?”
Rosaline let out a short laugh. “I’m pretty sure this conversation falls under the purview ofwork talk, Poppy. In fact, I’m positive it does.”
“It’s work talk adjacent,” she argued. “I’m hardly asking you for your opinion on cultivating media relations or reputation management. It’s called getting to know each other.”
