Chapter 29
brEAKING: OUTSIDE FORCES ATTEMPT TO DERAIL RELATIONSHIP Agent interference, scandal rumors, and one very stubborn heroine
Alaia
I stare at the article I wrote about Knox. I don’t have the first clue how to rewrite it. It’s perfect the way it is. Except it’s not. If it was perfect, it would be published.
My phone rings to interrupt my non-writing.
“Hello.”
“Is this Alaia Jackson?”
Jackson? Not Grant. Bummer. This call is not about my career. A career I have mere weeks to launch before the Gazette closes.
“It is. How may I help you?”
“You need to stop dating Tanner Long.”
“Excuse me. Who is this?”
“I’m Sam. I’m Tanner’s agent.”
The same agent who threatened to drop Tanner if he didn’t get his act together? The same agent who hired Belinda? And approved Belinda’s PR plan – including dating a ‘nice’ girl?”
“Stop dating Tanner? You’re the one who wanted me to date him in the first place. You’re not making any sense.”
“My ideas do not need to make sense to you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? Who the hell does he think he is? I have a name. Asshole.
“It’s Ms. Jackson.”
He snorts. “Whatever. Dump Tanner.”
“I’m not dumping Tanner because some sleezy agent orders me to. I decide who I date.”
He barks out a laugh. “Your relationship is fake.”
“Wrong. We agreed our relationship is no longer fake.”
“Oh, really? What are you going to do? Follow him around as he travels from game to game? Tanner is a playboy. He won’t be faithful to you.”
“You obviously don’t know Tanner,” I grit out.
There is more to Tanner than the playboy, goofball persona he presents to the world. His agent should know him better. His agent should know him. And support him. This conversation is not him being supportive.
“He has you fooled. I’m sending you a video. Watch it and then tell me you think Tanner’s not a playboy.”
“I don’t want your stupid video.”
Tanner’s been a playboy in the past. I know it. I don’t need to see the evidence.
“Too bad.”
My phone beeps with a message. It’s a video.
“I’m not going to watch it.”
“And here I thought you were a journalist and would want the scoop.”
I may have started out wanting the scoop but that was before I got to know Tanner. Before I fell in love with him.
“I—” He hangs up before I can defend myself. Jerk.
I throw my phone on the table and return my attention to my computer screen. But my gaze keeps straying back to my phone. Curiosity swamps me.
Damn it. I want Tanner to tell me what happened. Why he needed a fake relationship to repair his reputation. I don’t want to find out behind his back.
But if his agent sent me this video, he probably sent it to more people. Flying pirates! Is he going to leak it to the press? If it’s leaked, I’ll be blindsided. Unless I know what’s on it.
I snatch the phone and hit play. Tanner is in the back of a limo with a woman. She appears young, but she must be of age. Tanner wouldn’t fool around with an underage girl.
Clothes start to come off and I hit stop. I don’t want to see this.
I read the message attached to the video.
The father of the girl is a senator. He’s threatening to sue. How do you like Tanner now?
Tanner needs a new agent. Sam is an asshole. I can’t believe he betrayed his client by sending me this video.
And what is the senator threatening to sue about? If she wasn’t old enough, the senator would have Tanner arrested. On what grounds can he sue?
I need to know what’s on the video. I need to prepare myself for the potential media storm.
My thumb hovers over the play button. Come on, Alaia. Hit play. Don’t be a wimp.
None of the words of encouragement help. I can’t do it. I can’t watch the man I love having sex with another person.
I need to know what’s on the video without actually watching it. There’s only one thing I can do.
“Hey, baby girl. I thought you were writing.”
“I got interrupted. Someone sent me a video.”
Dad growls. “A video? What kind of video?”
“The kind I need you to watch on my behalf without telling anyone about.”
“On my way.”
I knew Dad was the right person to contact. As a former war correspondent, he understands the need to keep information secret.
He arrives within minutes. He doesn’t knock but barges into my apartment.
“You’re not supposed to use the key unless it’s an emergency.”
“Baby girl, I heard your voice on the phone. This is an emergency.”
I wish I could deny it, but I can’t.
Dad notices the fight leave me. “What’s going on?”
“Tanner’s agent rang me. When I wouldn’t agree to dump Tanner, he sent me a video.”
“Dump Tanner? His agent wants you to dump Tanner? What the hell?”
“Concentrate, Dad. The video. I can’t…” I swallow and force the words out. “…it’s of Tanner with another woman. I can’t.”
“But you need to know what’s on it to prepare yourself for the media storm.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
I hand him my phone. I can’t stand here and watch him watch Tanner and another woman. I’ll try to interpret every facial tick and grimace. No thanks.
I hurry outside to my balcony. I pace the small area as I wait for Dad. Time slows to a crawl as I wait, and I wait.
Finally, the door opens and Dad steps outside. “It’s not bad.”
“Then, why is some senator threatening to sue Tanner?”
He motions to the set of chairs. Once we’re settled, he continues, “I recognize the woman. I know which senator is her dad. He’s an ultra-conservative.
He doesn’t believe in birth control or sex before marriage.
His daughters have campaigned with him. Signed some stupid proclamation about waiting for marriage to have sex. ”
I fill in the blanks. “And he’s afraid if this comes out, he’ll lose voters.”
“Politicians are nastier than terrorists sometimes.”
“What should I do? I’m not going to write an article about it or leak it to the paparazzi, obviously. But how do I handle this with Tanner? Do I tell him I know?”
He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s up to you, baby girl.”
“Ugh. I hate all this gossip.”
“For someone who hates gossip, you excel at writing the Siren’s Spill column.”
“Excel? Yeah, right. I only have the job because of you.”
“Because of me?”
Crap on a mermaid cracker. I didn’t intend to discuss this with my dad. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never ever. I intended to take this to my grave with me. What good would discussing it do? Except potentially ruin our relationship?
I love my dad. Do I agree with what he did? No. But I don’t want it to put a wedge between us either.
I blow out a breath. “I know you got me the job at the Smuggler’s Gazette.”
“Got you the job?”
“Don’t deny it. I overheard Mike on my first day of work. He complained to the receptionist about being forced to hire me because of who my dad is.”
He growls. “Mike said he was forced to hire you because of who I am?”
“Uh, yeah. Because you used your influence to get me the job.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “That is not what happened.”
It’s not? A tiny spark of hope ignites in my stomach. “What did happen?”
“I contacted the owner of the newspaper. I’ve known Saint for years. I asked him to read a few of your articles and tell me what he thought. I never asked him to give you a job. I didn’t even realize there was a job opening at the Gazette.”
It doesn’t sound as bad as blackmailing my editor-in-chief to give me the job. But my dad is still the person responsible for me getting the position.
“Still. Your influence got me the job. I’m not a good writer.”
“What?” His head whips back. “Not a good writer? What kind of bullshit is this?”
“I only got the job at the Gazette because of you. The sports magazine didn’t want my article on Coach Knox.”
Dad clasps my hand. “Listen to me, baby girl. You are an excellent writer.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re legally obligated to believe in me because I’m your daughter.”
“I’m not lying. Saint is a friend but he’s also a cutthroat businessman.
He never would have had Mike hire you if he didn’t think you were good enough.
And I read your article on Coach Knox. It was good – well-written but yet witty and interesting.
How you made an article about how to coach an offensive line interesting is amazing. ”
“Then, why didn’t the magazine want to publish my article?”
He shrugs. “Who knows? Magazines and newspapers have reasons I’ve never been able to fathom. I’ve had so many of my articles rejected I could paint the outside of the house with the rejection letters.”
My nose wrinkles. “You have? You never said anything about rejections before.”
“Because no one enjoys discussing their failures. Even though I know those rejections had nothing to do with me and more to do with reader numbers and publishing planning, it’s not a fun subject.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
“It’s one article, baby girl. You can’t quit now.”
I bristle. “I’m not quitting. But if the Gazette closes, my journalism career is over.”
“I have faith in you. You’ll figure something out.”
“But what?”
He shrugs. “Save the Gazette, get another job. You’re young. The possibilities are endless.”
The doubt I’ve been feeling about my writing since my article was rejected starts to lift. There’s still a bit of doubt and worry there, but I’ll push through it. I’ll eventually find my dream position and save the Gazette in the process.
Now to figure out what to do about this stupid video.