Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hunter
Once outside the office, my attorney gave me a hug.
That lightened me up some, but I was still wound tight knowing I had to face the press.
I glanced at Cat, wishing I could hug her, knowing that feeling would make the world feel right, except I couldn’t.
The media had no idea we were an item and we needed to keep it that way.
Coach and the Militia organization couldn’t know about us or we’d find our asses on the street in no time.
As Rainey led the way to the press conference holding the woman by the arm with an iron grip I joined her and let Cat follow.
The circus began once we got into the hallway to make our way to the main lobby of the courthouse.
The DA had arranged for the press to gather there and had a mobile podium and microphone set up.
It was too cold to hold the press conference outside.
Me, I was impervious. These people shouting questions at me were nothing compared to a couple of linebackers bearing down on me on a frigid field.
Though I’d prefer the frigid field any day of the week.
I didn’t listen to the questions, or tried not to.
I couldn’t help hearing the coach-punching incident being brought up regularly as if they were a rock-throwing mob and this was their chance to hurl whatever they had at me.
Knowing Cat was behind me, that she had my back, made all the difference.
The DA ran the show once we were assembled at the podium. I stood to one side of Rainey and the woman stood on the other side of the DA with a public relations woman Rainey had hired to hold the woman’s hand, make sure she didn’t stumble under pressure.
I didn’t need anyone to hold my hand. But having Cat close by felt like the same thing.
The DA spoke first, some kind of sanctimonious bullshit speech about preventing a miscarriage of justice being an important part of his job.
He gave no credit to Rainey. He praised the woman for having the courage to do the right thing.
And then it was her turn to speak. This was where I needed to hold my breath.
The woman looked scared, but she went to the podium. The PR specialist was right behind her and put a paper in front of her to read from. There was a tense, unholy silence while everyone waited for her to start.
“I-I’m sorry.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Quintanna, for all the trouble I caused you.
” She started crying, but she managed to finish her speech.
I’d heard it before, but hearing it now while the mob of press and others listened, I finally uncoiled, took in long deep breaths of air as if just coming to the surface from a long way underwater.
I’d almost drowned. Cat rescued me. My mermaid.
The rest of the press conference was a wild blur with questions hurled against answers, news cameras zooming in, camera flashes, reporters, and media gossips closing in around us.
The DA had signaled for the courthouse security to assist us out of the building.
We all went for the limo, including Cat.
I made sure of it. I didn’t touch her, tried not to look at her, but I told the PR lady to make sure she got to the limo with us.
We all got inside the spacious car and when the door closed, it was as if the world outside ended.
The interior of the limo was vaultlike in its quiet.
I wouldn’t have known we were moving if I hadn’t glanced out the window.
As we moved a hundred feet from the courthouse, the media mob was a distant memory, the streets holding only the normal pedestrian traffic and no one paying any attention to another limo riding through the streets of Boston.
The limo brought us to the stadium and Cat brought us up to Coach’s office for a meeting with the front office people, including the VP of Operations and the owner.
Stepping inside first, I hadn’t expected the big smiles, the handshaking and even a man-hug from Coach. They were pleased and claimed they hadn’t believed the story all along.
“Thank you for your excellent work,” the owner said to Rainey.
“I expect I’ll have to pay you generously for a job well done, but it’s worth it.
You’ve managed to turn a pile of shit into a bed of roses, my PR people are telling me.
T-shirts were even created saying Free Hunter and other slogans in support of this brave young man. ” He shook my hand.
“Cat deserves a lot of credit,” Coach said, a pointed edge to his voice.
“I suppose you’re right, Coach, even accounting for your bias.” The others laughed, but I didn’t. I wanted to say something, to stand up for her, but did I dare call attention to my . . . fondness for her? I had no idea how it would be interpreted, so I let her dad stand up for her.
“It was my pleasure, sir,” Cat said as if the man had already thanked her, so he did.
“Now the only black mark on your career that remains is the coach-punching incident,” the owner, Brad Gable, said.
He stared me down, waiting for me to say something.
I didn’t. Cat looked distressed, but I willed her to keep quiet.
This wasn’t the time or place to go there.
Danielle was still vulnerable. My tacit agreement with Nutter and the LA organization would be jeopardized.
The owner cleared his throat after an awkward pause and said his goodbyes. The meeting broke up and Coach said, “You ready for the Christmas Eve game, Quintanna? I’ll be starting you.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded and I left. Rainey followed and then Cat.
We walked back to Cat’s office in silence while I held in my smile, my yell of victory at my mini success, reaching the milestone of starter on my road to redemption.
It got me closer to winning the cash prize of the desperately needed fat contract next year.
I closed the door behind us as I, Cat, and Rainey stood in a close circle in her small office because there was no space to do otherwise. But I threw my arms around them and hugged them closer because it felt right.
“We won. We did it—you two did it. You have no idea how grateful I am, ladies. I owe you more than I can repay.” We were all grins and laughs. “No, literally, I can’t pay you right now,” I said to Rainey, my smile slipping. She slapped my back.
“Don’t worry Hunter, it’s all covered. You heard the owner.”
“Bullshit on the owner. I want to pay you something, personally.”
“Okay, two tickets to the Super Bowl. The Militia and some unfortunate opponent.”
“It’s yours. In less than two months.” She and Cat laughed. I was dead serious. Cat eyed me, probably suspecting my seriousness.
“I wish I had a secret compartment with a bottle of champagne,” Cat said.
“I’m in training,” I said, only partly tongue in cheek.
“I have to get going,” Rainey said. “My daughter misses me, we’ve been putting in so many hours on this whirlwind of a case.”
“Of course she does,” Cat gave her friend a hug goodbye and then said, “Remember the other thing we talked about. Call me tomorrow.”
Rainey left and I pounced. Enveloping Cat in my arms, I backed her up into the desk as she laughed and squirmed, pretending she didn’t want me to.
“So what was that other thing all about?” I whispered as I nibbled her earlobe, a particularly sensitive spot I’d discovered.
“It’s about a Christmas present. A surprise so I’m not telling.”