Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
NOW
Eddie had called me to his office about an hour ago. In that way that wasn’t asking, but demanding, and usually meant something serious was going on.
That suspicion checked out when I got there, and his door was closed. Which hadn’t even been the case when he’d told me, about a year ago, that he couldn’t give me another article until the mess I’d created had been dealt with—or perhaps had blown over.
The fact that Henry was propped against the wall beside it hardly made the scenario better.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” I admitted by way of greeting, eyes still on the closed door. His gaze followed.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
And I thought, leaning against the opposite wall, I’m not quite sure myself. “The closed door, I mean,” he added.
“Oh.” Of course he didn’t mean his own presence. “Most definitely bad,” I offered plainly. “Makes it worse that I don’t know what it’s about. You?”
“No idea.”
My mind raced through possible scenarios that required Henry and me and Eddie’s closed office door.
I tried to remember whether I hadn’t delivered on a deadline or sent my editor a wrong document—perhaps forgot to delete an inappropriate comment from one of the earlier transcripts he’d only now found.
Which made me remember Riley’s joke in the office last week, and Alfie’s conspiracy that Lacy picked up gossip from every corner of it.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d find her on the other side of that door with him. Waiting to snitch me out for something I hadn’t done.
“If he asks if we hooked up, just deny it. Don’t ask any questions.” And I was unable to keep my spirits from deflating at the prospect.
Henry’s brows shot up, intrigue and confusion in the gesture. “Wouldn’t that be the truth?” His head tilted. “Did I miss something I shouldn’t have?”
I sighed at the way he tried to hide his smile from across the hall. “Right. Of course.” I shook my head, hoping to snap out of the gloom my suspicion had put me in. “No, didn’t miss anything.”
Henry huffed. “A shame.” And got interrupted before I’d even really processed his words.
I hadn’t expected a smile on Edward Smith’s face when he finally opened the door. “Paula, Henry,” he said. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
He gestured into his office, and Henry and I exchanged a single glance before following him inside.
His words made me try to imagine how getting Henry here on such short notice must’ve gone for him. Eddie’s flushed cheeks. Henry trying to explain he had to eat dinner at the exact time his schedule gave, or he would combust.
It seemed I’d been about to get my answer when Henry began, “I won’t have much time. This really was quite last—” But he cut himself off when his eyes fell on a fourth person in the room. I only noticed them when he did.
Not Lacy.
A middle-aged man, late thirties, maybe? Skin dark and head bald. He stood next to Eddie’s desk, hand extended for me to shake first before diverting his attention to Henry. Who did not appreciate whatever kind of surprise this was.
“Pressley,” the man greeted him. “Good to see you again, son. We haven’t heard from you in a while.” The casual hug, paired with a pat on the back suggested they weren’t strangers.
At my confused look, Eddie just gestured me toward one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk.
“Marty.” Henry’s brows drew together. “I didn’t know you were in town.” His shoulders sagged as he relaxed slightly, but the edge in his voice lingered. “What’s up?”
“Sit,” he offered, tone warm and comforting. Hesitantly, Henry did.
“First of all.” Marty began. “It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Castillo. I cannot tell you how much I loved your article in The New York Times a few years ago.”
It was only one year and four months ago, to be exact. Accurately speaking, not an article either, but a guest essay.
When my career had seemed to be on the ever-up of a rollercoaster. Only that I’d forgotten there were no ever-up rollercoasters, and the cart would have to come back down eventually. Mine plummeted into a hole below, where I was sitting now.
This profile was the first light I’d seen from the bottom in months.
“You will do wonders with this profile, I’m sure. Plus, the Blue Eagles could use some more buzz around their players. It’s perfect timing.”
It wasn’t often I remembered I’m actually good at what I was doing. This had probably been the first reminder in months, close to a year. I smiled so widely my cheeks hurt. But I couldn’t help it. “Thank you so much,” I said, and I meant it.
Marty settled against his chair with a warm smile that somehow portrayed superiority and authority at the same time. “Which is why your editor and I think it would be a great idea for you to join Pressley when he flies down.”
Henry tensed beside me.
“What?” His tone was a little too insulted for my liking.
When he got up, the leg that had been in constant motion before, finally stilled. Henry cleared his throat, and I could tell he was trying his very best to stay calm. To not let the apparent change of plan get to his head. “I feel like there should’ve been a third party consulted on that,” he said flatly, stoic mask twitching just once. “Don’t you think?”
“That’s what we’re doing now.” Marty’s eyes fixed on Henry, unrelenting.
His pitch lowered when he answered, under his breath, “Before bringing the idea to her.”
I could hear him loud and clear, though.
“Sorry.” An awkward chuckle accompanied the word, and it drew the two men out of their competitive staring. All eyes on me. “I just— who thinks what is a good idea?”
“The New York Blue Eagles.” Marty said, like I should know what was going on, when I had no idea. Like I must’ve missed an email that held an outline with all the points I wasn’t getting. “Henry’s team. Officially, once he finally signs the remaining contracts.”
His tone insinuated there was more to his words—something he wasn’t saying. Henry’s deep breath told me he knew what it was. “Which is why he’s flying down. To New York.” Marty seemed to consider his next words, then his gaze settled on me again. “Hopefully with you in tow.”
Eddie jumped in, and in no uncertain terms explained the situation. “You’re joining Henry for his weekend in New York.” As with everything about this profile, he’d made sure it wasn’t a question.
I was going, whether I wanted to or not. Whether Henry wanted me to or not.
Eddie cleared his throat. “You won’t have to worry about anything. I spoke to Alfie’s—Mr. Dunbridge, and the paper will be happy to cover your expenses over the next three days.”
Happy was probably an overstatement, but I’m sure he’d worked his magic on Alfie’s dad.
Henry’s head fell back with a deep sigh, like he, too, had given up.
Clearly, he wasn’t a fan of the idea. Of me . Which must’ve at least partly been due to the fact I’d be throwing off his entire plan. And so spontaneously—
“Wait,” I thought out loud, Eddie’s words only now really sinking in. “ The next three days? As in, we’re leaving tomorrow?”
“The flight’s at nine,” Henry offered unhelpfully, with about as much enthusiasm in his voice as I’d brought along to do the entire profile in the first place.
“I spoke to PR, and they agree that it would make a great addition to the profile. To not only mention the Blue Eagles, but for Paula to really be there. See the amenities, be in the stadium. Henry in our colors. You get me?” Marty looked back at me. “No worries. We’re not trying to tell you what to write.” He winked, which made the entire statement seem meaningless. “Like Mr. Smith said, we’ve arranged everything. All you have to do is say yes. Your choice.”
One glance at Eddie told me it wasn’t. And anyway, what was it I’d vowed?
My throat worked, and I kept my eyes away from Henry, if only to ignore how little he wanted me in New York with him, and how much it secretly hurt.
“I’m in.” All in .
Henry seemed about ten seconds away from spontaneous combustion before he left through the door. Marty gave me an apologetic look.
“I’d love to talk more,” he said, already following his newest defender. “But it seems my client is running away from me.”
And gone.
Which left me with Eddie to deal with. “Fantastic choice,” he said. The smile on his face told me it hadn’t been mine.
“Was it?” I laughed drily. “Because it seems Henry thinks very differently, and as the subject of this profile, shouldn’t he decide what he’s comfortable with?”
Eddie shook his head. “Trust me, Paula.” And it almost seemed sincere, the way his eyes met mine—the look in them. “His manager and I agreed it’s for the best. We anticipated the reaction, but it’ll make your profile better. Shine. Where else will you see him in his element like that? When else are you going to get a close-up look at the MLS draft like that?”
I knew he was right.
“But—”
“As for Henry.” He cut me off. “He knows what he signed up for, and he was very sure he wanted it.”
“The profile, yes! But not—”
“You.” The word reverberated off the walls. “He was very sure he wanted this profile and everything else that comes with it.”
A second ticked by in which I’d searched for the right response and failed miserably at it. “Now.” Eddie gestured to the exit, an easy smile back on his lips. “I think you have some packing to do. I’ll email you everything you need.”