Epilogue #2
Tella and I started our podcast last year to lift up women working in sports and women sports, as a whole.
Women Running the Plays. Our message is clear in the name of our podcast. I don’t know why someone is suddenly up in arms, like we’re saying anything that is untrue about the misogyny some of these male athletes possess.
I made one comment about how male athletes shouldn’t be in committed relationships when it seems like a lot of them are only committed to the sport they’re playing. Somehow, that entire statement has been blown to epic proportions, slapping me with the label of a man hater.
My chest expands as I inhale deeply, slowly letting it out the same exact time my phone starts to vibrate beside me. I run my tongue over my top teeth, my stomach sinking as I chance a glance at the screen. Relief immediately washes over me when I see my brother’s name instead of my dad’s.
“Hey.”
“Dude, who the hell did you piss off?”
I snort, shaking my head, even though my brother can’t see. “Looks like another trigger man got his little panties in a bunch.”
“Well, whoever he is this time must have friends in high places.”
It’s a struggle to keep my eyes from rolling so far back into my head that it snaps the muscles keeping them in place. “It’s one article, it will blow over.”
“Want me to figure out who it was running their mouth?”
Matteo deserves an award for being the most protective older brother. I swear, if someone breathed wrong in mine or Bella’s direction, Matteo would have their name and their number.
“No, it’s fine.” I blow out an exasperated sigh. “Like I said. I’m sure it will blow over.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” he says after a moment. “This could be huge for you guys. It’s about damn time your podcast gets some attention.”
I tuck my phone between my shoulder and ear, shoving my empty take-out container into the plastic bag with my trash. “A bunch of angry men are not the audience we’re looking for.”
“You’re right, but there’s no such thing as bad press, right?”
I grab my phone, tilting my head in the other direction as I mull over his words.
“Yeah, maybe.” Maybe he’s right. I mean, there are men, like my brother for example, who are for the girls.
Who support women and their rights and their wrongs.
Who support women in male dominated fields and women athletes.
Maybe if enough of the wrong audience shed light on what Tella and I are discussing, it does give it a chance to reach the right people too.
Plus, it’s not like we’re on there bashing men like the headline made it seem.
I made one little comment about male athletes and relationships and obviously, it was taken completely out of context.
“I gotta head back into work or Patty is going to fire me.”
I’m already on Patty’s shit list after being late to work three times within the last two weeks.
She only hired me because she knows my brother is dating a famous author and what she pays me ends up being cycled back into the bookstore since I’ve recently discovered the romantasy genre and can’t stop buying books.
“I mean, it’s not like you’re working there to pay your bills.”
It’s not meant to be a low blow, but it stings nonetheless. I’m not exactly the golden child of the family who’s gone on to prosper in life. Matteo plays hockey professionally, Bella’s still in college and here I am, a college drop-out living in a condo her parents paid for.
“That came out wrong,” Matteo says softly a moment later. “What I meant was, you know you don’t need the money from there.”
He’s right. Our parents set all of us up financially for when we became adults, regardless of what our life choices were. However, I’m the one who’s blowing through their money at an exponential rate.
“No, I know.” I tuck those emotions neatly into the box inside my chest where I can forget they exist. “I gotta run, but I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, his voice sounding off, but I don’t comment on it. “Don’t forget we’re going out to celebrate Shaw’s birthday this weekend.”
Of course. How the hell could I possibly forget Cameron Shaw’s birthday? I don’t think he’d let me, even if I wanted to.
“Yeah, I know. Cam’s only been talking about it for the last three months.”
Matteo chuckles. “Well, I suppose you only turn 25 once in your life.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it through the phone. Cam loves being the center of attention, which I suppose has to do with his horrible case of only-child syndrome. He doesn’t know how to not have the world revolve around him.
Matteo gives me a rundown of where we’re all meeting and the details for the night before we end the call. I know exactly how the night will go without my brother spelling out the details for me.
It’s the same dance every time. Cam will look at me the way he does when no one else is watching, with those stupid pretty hazel eyes and cocky smirk, toying with me, sliding under my skin… and then he’ll make sure I go home alone.
Talk about annoying.
I grab my keys and my bag of trash and climb out of my car, heading back across the small parking lot to the bookstore.
It’s quiet when I step back inside and I don’t see Patty anywhere.
She must be in the back. I put my things in my small cubby in the back hall and head back into the main shop area.
There is a stack of books that need to be put out on display, so I grab them and get to work before Patty comes back in. Hopefully if she sees me busy, I can get back in her good graces.
The bell above the door chimes softly and I glance over, greeting the customer with a smile on my way to the new release table.
I set the stack down and rearrange a few books, picking up one with a bright blue cover.
I flip it over, my eyes scanning the back and immediately put it down when I get to the sentence about how he’s her brother’s teammate.
I don’t know what my damn problem is.
I don’t know why the hell my brain keeps circling back to him. He’s become a bit of a problem for me over the last few months. He’s attractive, I won’t deny that, and he’s very emotionally stable—thanks to both of his moms who are therapists.
And very much not my type.
I don’t date athletes. Ever.
Cameron Shaw is a prime example of why I won’t date them.
He knows he’s attractive and uses it to his advantage.
I’m sure he has some bullshit psychological approach and would call it positive manipulation.
Either way, women are constantly fawning over him because of his status as a professional hockey player or just because he’s hot as hell.
My face grows warm. I need to get rid of those thoughts immediately. We may get flirty from time to time, but it stops there. I’m allowed to admit he’s hot and do nothing with that information, right?
“Did those books do something to you personally?
I startle at the sound of Patty’s voice. I glance over my shoulder, eyes wide, hand on my chest. “You scared me.”
She laughs softly, the skin around her eyes wrinkling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She grabs a book and hands it to me. “You were looking at the stack like you wanted to chuck them out the window. I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that.”
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “No, it’s nothing. Just in my head.”
“Let’s not make that a habit, the same with how you’ve been late a few times, okay?” Her eyes probe mine. “I like you, Elena. You’re a great employee and I’d hate for external things to ruin that.”
Fuck me.
I knew she wasn’t happy with me being late recently. This isn’t good, though, and she’s completely right. I need to put my stuff to the side. Check my issues at the door and leave them outside of work.
“You’re right. I’m so sorry, Patty. It won’t happen again.”
She stares at me for a moment, her expression unreadable before she nods. “Okay.” She glances over to the register where our only customer’s waiting. “Finish up here and then I have another table we can set up and arrange.”
Patty leaves me without another word and I let out a sigh of relief. Matteo was right—I don’t need this job, but it’s something I enjoy. It helps me to pass the time and it keeps me busy.
Right now, I’ll take any distraction I can get.
Tella and I started our podcast with the hopes of it taking off one day. It’s something we’ve dreamed of making careers out of. Matteo thinks there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but if this ends up going down in flames, we can kiss our dreams goodbye.
There has to be something we can do for damage control… something to stop this from spiraling in the wrong direction. There’s a chance it could blow over, but if it doesn’t, we need a back-up plan of how to make it right. I groan inwardly, pinching the bridge of my nose.
This is a potential nightmare we didn’t need.
And the last thing I want to do is have to issue a public fucking statement to apologize to a man.