At the exit, she turns toward the rideshare pickup. I watch her walk away until Zach bumps my shoulder.
“You good?”
“No.”
Zach blinks.
I adjust my bag and head for the truck.
For once, I do not take it back.
Peyton
The article publishes at 7:03 a.m.
By 7:19, my phone has become a weapon.
Emails. Mentions. Unknown numbers. Three missed calls from Gil. One from my father, which I ignore so hard my thumb hurts.
At 7:42, the Stampede legal department sends the formal notice.
Due to violations of media access agreements and misrepresentation of organizational intentions, your press credentials for San Antonio Stampede events have been revoked effective immediately. All future access requests will be denied. This decision is final.
Access gone.
I read it twice, forward it to Gil, and answer when he calls again.
“Tell me you are sitting down,” he says.
“I am emotionally seated.”
“They pulled your credentials.”
“I noticed.”
“Legal wants a retraction, a public apology, and a statement that the paper acknowledges the piece lacked appropriate context.”
“No.”
“Already told them.”
I close my eyes. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me yet.” Gil exhales. “I have to pull you from the Stampede beat.”
The words land even though I know they are coming.
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
“Right.”
“Peyton.”
“No, I know. You cannot assign someone who cannot get credentialed.”
“High school sports. Starting Friday.”
