She turned on the politician’s daughter’s smile, the one she used at all political events. “We sure are.”
Miranda and Jason walked out onto the stage, Cole leading the way to the podium. Flashbulbs began flashing and Stacia blinked rapidly, praying Jason wouldn’t blow it. After the brief announcement, Cole stepped to the side, leaving Jason at the microphone.
“Mr. Friar, can you shed any light on the allegations about your illegitimate daughter? Where is she now? Are you finally supporting her financially?”Flash
Stacia winced and Cole scowled.
“Mr. Friar, you’re as well-known for your off-field antics as for your sparkling plays at first. Do you feel those activities contributed to your injury and decline in your career?”Flash
She glanced at her watch and then out at Cole. She gestured to end it but he stood there glowering. God, it was worse than a reality housewives television show.
“Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumors that you’re flat broke from years of drug use and partying?”Flash
Shit, not the drug use. Jason, shut up. She prayed to a God she barely knew, but she would have sacrificed all of her unborn children if he would stop the bloodbath in front of her. Jason’s face had gotten progressively harder, as if carved from granite, and his eyes promised retribution. But he held his tongue. Almost.
“Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumor that the Knights are the only team willing to take you on? How does that make you feel?”Flash Flash Flash
And then it went south. Straight to the bowels of hell. All before Stacia could step in, not that she knew what to say.
“How the hell do you think it makes me feel?” With that statement, he ripped the mic off his team jersey and stormed off the stage. “Fucking vultures.”
At least she could finally say she knew what it meant when people said something was like a train wreck but they couldn’t stop watching. The horror.
Cole snarled. “Fix this now!” Then he stepped to the podium to appease the stunned media.
Stacia bolted after Jason as fast as three-inch Manolos would let her and caught up with him in the parking lot. She grabbed his arm, trying to wheel him around. Instead, she was almost yanked off her heels. He whirled to face her and grabbed her just as she teetered over.
“Why the hell would you wear shoes like that and try to run in them? Are you just plain stupid?”
“No, I’m trying to save your ass.”
His face was contorted into a feral mask, anger and rage twisting him. “My ass is safe, thank you very much. I don’t need a glorified babysitter to help me.”
“Well, based on that stupid display of temper in there, it sure looks like you need lessons in being human, or at least civility. And you wonder why no one wanted you.”
She could feel her career flushing right alongside his, straight down the crapper. How the hell could she recover from this? It would have been easier if he had slept with an intern like her last client. But insulting the media? Walking out on an interview? There was almost no turning back.
He dropped her arm and began pacing, short angry strides back and forth in the empty parking space next to the SUV. “That shit shouldn’t have happened. It should only matter what I do on the field. As long as I don’t fuck that up, nothing else should matter.”
“Well, you haven’t been on the field in over a year and the last time you were it wasn’t so stellar was it? So, what else do they have to talk about?” she pointed out quietly.
He glanced away as if the statement had hit too close to the mark. He heaved a shuddering sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “It shouldn’t matter.” This time, it was said more quietly, more subdued.
“No, it shouldn’t, but everything matters. So, now that you flubbed big time, we need to fix it.” Options began flashing through her mind, interviews she could schedule, events to play up, ways to deal with this as if it were an aberration. God help her, it’d better be an aberration or they were both doomed.
He sighed. “Not today. I’m not in the mood.”
“Yes, today.” She stepped in front of him and forced him to look her in the face. “You can’t keep running from your mistakes. It’s time for you to grow up and take responsibility. Besides, this could very well be your last chance. Do you want it or not?”
He avoided her eyes. “I don’t need your help.”
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “Were you not in the same room I was? I saw a childish display of temper, not the mature adult who professes to be able to handle the pressure.”
“Whatever, darling. Leave me alone, at least for now. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how I screwed up. Don’t you think I know that? That I think about it all the time?” He drew a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. When he spoke, his tone was softer, calmer. “Look, I have to catch up with the team in Detroit. When I come back, we’ll deal with this, okay?”
She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and hug him, comfort him. She stood firm, her arms crossed, posture stiff. “Not good enough.”
“Well, it’s going to have to be, unless you want to come and live with me in my hotel on the road. I promise to be in bed early every night, focus on baseball and do nothing stupid. Besides, I have a lot to catch up on– batting, fielding, getting to know the rhythm of my teammates on the field. Just leave me be.”