“It’s confirmed.” Taran nodded.
“Last time this fucking happened, we dumped time and money into the spread, only to have it ripped out from under us. These prima donna athletes claiming they were tricked and suing to invalidate the contract are killing us. Their new agents want to pad the billing and cause drama.” Wayne’s fist slammed onto the desk. “Who’s the new agent?”
Taran shrugged. As far as she knew, Corey still hadn’t hired one. “I can reach out to Matthews directly if you want. The Metros are on the road for a stretch after today’s game, but I can get together with him and talk after I finish July’s article.”
Wayne ran his hand over his balding head. “Yeah, fine. But make it a meeting to lock in dates and details; don’t hint that we believe he can back out.”
“Of course,” Taran agreed.
“It’s times like these that I wish SI hadn’t decided to go so heavily into the features’ approval. The New York Times writes a piece, and they don’t ask permission. They might ask for a comment, but the story runs anyway.”
Taran forced herself not to roll her eyes. “It’s hard to get an in-depth look into a person’s life without cooperation.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled but then looked at her. “Thanks for looking out for us. I was worried this would be an ‘I can’t write about Cory Matthews because I’m sleeping with him’ conversation. I should have known better. You’re one of the most professional reporters we have.”
Taran chuckled uncomfortably.
“Plus, if that was the case, it’s an easy fix. I’d pass it off to someone else to write it.”
Taran’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what?”
Wayne shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, but I was worried, so I checked with the legal. Nothing in the contract says you have to be the reporter who writes the article on Matthews. But it turns out I didn’t need to spend the afternoon making sure it could be reassigned if necessary.”
Her stomach bottomed out. It never occurred to her that anyone else could write the article. She assumed that if she didn’t do it, the worst that could happen would be she’d get fired.
“Don’t give me that look, princess. You know I won’t take the story away. It’ll be your baby.” He waved a hand. “Check back in when you turn in the Jessica piece.”
Taran nodded.
“Was there anything else?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Okay, we’ll talk later.”
With that, he dismissed her, but she barely remembered leaving the office and getting back to the car. The second she was in the car, she was dialing. Hopefully, Sean could help her work her way out of this contract. But she got his voicemail and left a vague call me message.
She sat in the car and banged her head twice on the steering wheel. There had to be a solution to this. Maybe she’d figure it out if she could talk it out with someone. She called her sister.
“Do not tell me that you’re canceling on the kids.” Her sister’s voice echoed around the car.
“Canceling?”
“Yeah, Diablo, the castle hunt,” Teagan prompted.
“Shit,” Taran cursed. She had completely forgotten. It was unlike her to be such a mess. She glanced at the clock. She had over an hour, so she could still make it. “I’m not canceling. No issues. Just making sure it’s all good on your end.”
“Sure you are. What’s going on, Taran?”
“It’s just—” Taran swallowed. Although she had automatically reached out to her sister, she couldn’t betray Corey and tell her sister anything she knew about him. And that made the contract issue so confusing. How could she explain and have it make sense?
“Taran?”
She couldn’t tell her. “I’m good. Just tired. I picked Jessica Walters for the next article.” Taran went on to chat about that and promised again she’d be on Diablo before hanging up. She called Sean next but got his voicemail again. The only good news about the Diablo game was it put off having to talk to Corey about the article; she wanted a solution before she told him.
She sent off a text.
Taran:I’m really sorry, but I forgot that I had plans with my niece and nephews tonight to do Diablo. I have to reschedule dinner for when you get back.
Once she hit send, she finally pulled out of the underground lot. But she was barely on the street before her phone rang. She looked down. Wasn’t he at the game?
“Hey?”