We talked for a few moments longer. Argued, really, but he’d already won. As much as I hated everything about this, I knew that all three of them had a point. I hadn’t just been hired to play baseball. I’d been hired to fit into an image, which was being molded by experts to make me into a media darling. Before Heidi, I hadn’t had a problem with that. But now I felt like the biggest shit on the planet. And I hadn’t even told her yet.
Then I spotted Jake coming in from the field. He was our shortstop and last year’s surprise call-up. The man had great hands and a silver-tongue known for flirting with every female interviewer and fan. He didn’t have the blond hair and blue eyes that I did, and his heritage was Mexican rather than Caucasian golden boy, but his square jaw and short hair gave him a rugged quality that girls seemed to go for. Plus he had been a firefighter before joining the Bobcats, so he had that hero thing going for him.
And even better, he owed me a favor.
Chapter Sixteen
Heidi
Packing up even my tiny apartment took time, but what else was I going to do? I’d been planning on sorting and tossing stuff anyway. But before I could schedule movers, I had to see Rob’s place. I had to figure out where and how we were going to share our space, and he was disturbingly cagey about answering questions. He just kept saying, “Come over Tuesday night. We’ll sort it through then.”
Tuesday was only a day away, but I hated being in limbo. I’d always had something very clear to do with my time: school or work. Searching for outlets that were interested in articles about millennials wasn’t exactly a life plan. Especially since I hadn’t told my parents I wasn’t going to law school. The uncertainty was making me cranky and needy.
I ached to talk to Rob, but he had practice and a publicity thing. So rather than hang on his every word, I took to the internet to hang on his every taped word. Interviews with Rob, sports coverage about Rob, Twitter gossip about Rob. It was that last that had my hands shaking as I stared at my phone.
Twitter was agog with the coming date between Rob and Brittany DeLuce. Rob had already mentioned it, passing it off as another publicity thing, but it was clear from Brittany’s tweets that for her, it was anything but. She speculated on where he’d take her, had online polls to decide what she should wear, and accepted dating tips, including eating an energy bar before the meal so she didn’t eat too much.
I hated every word she said, and not just because she thought she was dating Rob. Every word was about projecting a false illusion of who she was and a sick obsession with minutia. What woman obsessed about wearing cream shoes after Memorial Day? Should she go with pure white? And what did that say about me as I read every single tweet like it was the key to a Pulitzer?
As a reporter, I wanted to be interested in world events. Global warming, politics, technological breakthroughs, and how we could stop dictators from blowing us up. Instead, I was dissecting tweets two hundred eighty characters at a time and wondering how she could think about having sex with Rob when I was moving in.
So I texted the question to Rob. It only took me an hour to phrase it correctly. How to strike that balance tone between WTF and oh by the way? In the end, it didn’t matter. He didn’t respond for eight mind-breaking hours. Sure, I knew he was in practice and then at some kids’ charity event. I felt small for resenting kids with cancer, but what the hell? Why wasn’t he answering?
Then he called. It was before midnight and he was in a taxi. He sounded exhausted and said four words that reassured me down to my soul.
“I hate that bitch.”
“Then why does she think she’s going on a date with you? Why—”
“I can’t talk right now, Heidi. And I need to shower. Please, can we talk tomorrow night? I swear I’ll explain everything.”
He sounded awful. Exhausted. Defeated. My heart went out to him. And so I offered him something else. “Why don’t you get home, get comfortable, and call me back.”
“It’ll be so late—”
“I’ve got nothing on my schedule. And I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.” I tried to make my voice sultry. “I could even come over—”
“No! Jesus, my place is a mess and…” He sighed. “Heidi, I want to. You have no idea how much. But let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” Then someone said something that I couldn’t make out. I thought it was the taxi driver until Rob’s next words. “Jesus, Nico, I know.”
Nico was there? In the taxi with him? Or maybe Nico was driving. Just how tightly were they keeping control of Rob?
“Hey—” I said, but Rob cut me off.
“Tomorrow night, I swear. But I’ve got to go now.”
Then before I could say more, he cut the connection. I stared at my phone while my gut twisted in anxiety. I knew something was wrong. I knew it deep down, but I shoved it away and thought it would all come clear Tuesday night.
And it did. Starting with the fact that when I showed up at his luxury apartment complex, a really tall brunette squealed, “Heidi!” and bounced over to me. She literally bounced even while wearing three-inch heels. I had no idea who she was, but as she hugged me tight, she whispered into my ear. “Just go with it, kay? I’m Dana.”
“Wow, Dana! That was quite the enthusiastic greeting,” I said when she finally eased off the hug.
“Well, how else am I supposed to greet my long-lost bestie?” Then she tugged on my arm, pulling the tote bag of extra clothing off my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go up.” Then she waved at security and walked me through the glass doors to the elevator bay.
She kept up a string of nonsense throughout the elevator ride up to the twenty-seventh floor and her words didn’t stop until we were all the way down the hall to the last door. Then she stopped and abruptly pointed to an apartment just to the side of the elevator. “That’s me. If you need anything, I’ll be here all night. Just knock.”
Then she handed me back my tote, squeezed my hand, and banged once hard on the door. The door jerked open and I saw Rob there looking stressed. Hell, I’d watched him face a full count and bases loaded with less tightness around his eyes. He didn’t even open the door fully, but pulled me in and flashed a quick smile at my escort.
“I owe you, Dana.”
