Chapter Thirty
Madden unknotted his tie on the way out of his meeting with the Yankees’ general manager, letting the frosted glass door shut
with a resounding click behind him.
Exactly nothing had been resolved, as he’d been hoping. Now, instead of following Eve back to Rhode Island, he’d lost almost
an entire day trying to run interference with the press, to absolutely no avail. The only thing this meeting had served to
confirm was what he already knew to be true. New York City sports journalism went big and splashy when they detected the public’s
interest in a story, the fallout it caused in the personal lives of their subjects be damned.
This morning, when he’d looked out over the mass of cameras and shouting reporters, he’d realized this in a snapshot of clarity.
There was nothing he could do to dampen what they considered his rise to fame and the public romanticizing of his and Eve’s
relationship.
Romantic? They didn’t know the fucking half.
But they were actively trying to find out.
He’d hired security for Eve and, thankfully, she’d accepted. At least, that’s what he’d been told over the phone by the head
of her new security team.
As predicted, she wasn’t answering his calls.
Could he really blame her after he’d kissed her in the middle of the avenue?
Her one condition for marrying him had been to keep their union quiet.
Well, he’d soundly blown the roof off that secret, hadn’t he?
He’d been desperate to show Eve that he didn’t give a fuck about everyone else’s opinions.
That he’d choose her, stand beside her, every single time.
And yeah, his wife being photographed on the front page of the Post for everyone to ogle had roused his possessive instincts, because he’d also felt the need to make it crystal clear Eve was
under his protection. That she belonged to him.
If Madden wanted that to be true much longer, this attention on him, on them, needed to die down.
Unfortunately, public interest had only seemed to grow throughout the morning, footage of yesterday’s catch now interspersed
with shirtless Madden kissing Eve among the media mayhem. They were calling him Down Bad Madden now, which didn’t bother him
at all. What troubled him were the pictures of Eve in the VIP box starting to surface, along with headlines that only validated
the concerns Eve had had all along.
“Madden’s Madam: Catcher Kisses Nudie Club Cutie.”
They’d cheapened her. They’d cheapened the art form of burlesque and the club she’d sunk her blood, sweat, and tears into.
And he’d been the one to drag her into the spotlight.
Madden walked out of the building on East 161st Street feeling too much like a caged animal to call for a cab. He remained
in the shaded doorway, trying to figure out his next move. Was there one? Or did they just ride out the tide of interest until
the press moved on to someone or something else?
At the moment, he was just grateful no one had followed him uptown. The last thing he needed was to get arrested for decking
a reporter.
He called Elton, who answered on the second ring.
“Hey, man,” answered his friend, his concern palpable.
“Hey. Are you still in Cumberland?”
“Yeah, I’m at my parents’ house. We convinced Eve to stay here with the kids for a while, hoping maybe those news vans outside
the club would give up and go home.”
“Eve is there,” Madden breathed, a hint of pressure in his chest alleviated. “Good. Is she . . . okay?”
“She’s looking a little shell-shocked, to be totally honest. We had to turn off the television because pictures of you two
were popping up during the entertainment portion of the news.” He sensed Elton shaking his head. “This craziness couldn’t
have happened to two more private people. What a kick in the ass.”
“Yeah.” Madden dragged a hand down his face, his one wish in life to be at the Pages’ house in front of Eve at that moment
so he could reassure her in some way. Or to just be around her. See her. Hold her. In the hours since she’d left, he’d been
operating with the most important half of himself missing.
“What did the front office have to say about it?”
“They act concerned and they claim they’re going to make some calls about the intrusion of privacy, but they’re full of shit.
After a string of low-attended games, they need the attention, good or bad.” Madden exhaled his frustration. “All because
I held on to the stupid ball. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Dude, that guy plowed into you like a freight train.”
“I almost wish I dropped it at this point.”
“Blasphemy, but I’ll allow it, considering the circumstances.”
“The only silver lining is I can’t practice for a week. As soon as I get back to my place and pack, I’m heading to Rhode Island.”
“That’s good. Eve needs you here, whether she admits it or not.”
Madden rubbed his forehead. “Whatever you do, don’t say that to Eve.”
“Nope. I’d like to keep my balls attached to my body.”
Madden frowned at the silence that followed, the pacing he heard in the background. “Is everything all right with you?” he
asked Elton. “You seem kind of preoccupied.”
“Me? Yeah, I’m good.” A floorboard creaked and Madden recognized the sound. It belonged to the loose floorboard in front of
the Pages’ front door. “Fine, I’m slightly preoccupied.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because Veda was supposed to be here an hour ago, but her phone is dead. Get this—I think she might
have fallen asleep. In the middle of the day! And do you want to know why?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“Because last night, when I dropped her off—at midnight, mind you—she went back out. After midnight! To go watch a friend
play a gig. Can you imagine?”
“Okay, first of all, you sound like an old man,” Madden responded. “Second, why are you tracking this girl’s movements?”
“Because I’m . . . morbidly fascinated by how somebody can live like this,” Elton said. “How does she function with no sleep
and never more than thirty percent battery left on her phone? It’s madness, I tell you.”
Madden was beginning to get suspicious. Elton was spending a lot of time worrying about Veda, who he wasn’t dating. Could never date. Not when their lifestyles were polar opposites. “How’s her sister?”
“Who?” At first, Elton sounded genuinely confused. “Oh right. Good. Alexis is . . . great,” he muttered. “I have to fly back
to Florida in the morning, so I’m taking her out tonight. I think. I haven’t followed up with her yet.”
“Maybe you should get on that?”
Elton sighed.
“You like Veda.”
“Nope,” Elton fired right back.
“Deny it all you want.”
“Did I mention she’s asleep at two p.m.?” Elton asked, scoffing. “She dropped out of college to start a band with her situationship, who dresses like Elvis. She wears a push-up bra. She’s at least ten years from wanting to settle down and I’m—”
“Ten minutes.”
“Admittedly.”
“How do you know she wears a push-up bra?”
“Forget I said that. The point is, Veda is a living, breathing headache and Alexis is exactly what I’m looking for—” Elton
broke off suddenly, his last statement followed by a pregnant pause. “Veda. When did you get here?” Madden’s best friend took
a heavy breath. “I don’t know what you heard, but I didn’t mean . . .” Footsteps. “Come back here. I’m sorry.”
“Shit,” Madden murmured to himself.
“Fuck. I have to go. I’ll call you—” Again, Elton stopped talking, that floorboard near the front door groaning in the background.
“Hold on, someone is pulling up.”
Madden pushed off the building, his pulse playing leapfrog. “Who is it? Media?”
“No.” He made a raw sound of disbelief. “Holy shit, Mad. It’s Eve’s sister.”