7. FOUR
FOUR
ALEX
“You’ve gone too far this time, Wolfe.” Coach slams a TMZ printout on the table in front of me, his forehead creased to such an extent his eyebrows brush his nose. “You seriously fucked a fan in the stands?”
I’m calm as he looms over me, my hands relaxed on the arms of the swivel chair in the team meeting room. “It’s fake news.”
One eyebrow lifts off his nose as he regards me with disbelief. “Your bare ass on every major news site in the country would beg to fucking differ. I’ve seen the footage myself.”
I snort but have just enough self-preservation to hide it behind a cough. “I don’t know whose ass you saw, Coach, but it sure as hell wasn’t mine.”
It’s the truth.
I’ve had sex with a lot of women in a lot of different places, but never in the stands of a soccer stadium. That’s a fact I’d quite like to remedy, come to think of it.
But he still doesn’t look convinced. Pacing the length of the room, his sneakers scuff against the maroon carpet, screeching as if they, too, are mad at me.
I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Look, I can understand why you’re having difficulty believing me.
We both know I’m not exactly the pillar of chastity, and in all honesty, having sex in the stands is going on my bucket list because that sounds like fun.
But regardless of whatever you think you’ve seen, the guy in that article isn’t me. ”
Coach Carter pauses his patrolling to stare out the window that overlooks the training ground.
He swipes a hand over his face, shaking his head into his palm.
It’s not the first time someone has facepalmed because of me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. “A soccer player in England was fired for something like this. You know the new investor is pressuring me to follow suit? At the very least, they want you stripped of your captain badge.”
My pulse spikes. I open my mouth to defend myself, but Coach carries on.
“Purview is very careful about their public image, Alex. They’re giving a lot of money to this team, and they believe your reputation will leave a bad stain.
They’re a family car manufacturer, for Christ’s sake.
They can’t have your promiscuities linked to their name.
It’s getting hard to have your back when shit like this keeps getting printed about you. ”
They can’t strip me of my captain badge or drop me from the team. And for what? A case of misidentification? Another fake media headline? Everything I am is in this team, every drop of blood, every goddamn bead of sweat, every fucking tear. I pour it all into the Strikers.
“Coach,” my voice cracks, “you can’t do that.”
His eyes soften as he collapses into the chair beside me, releasing a long exhale. “I don’t want to, Wolfe. You’re a damn good player, and you know how much I respect you. Hell, I’ve always thought we have a sort of father-son relationship, but this is coming from over my head. My hands are tied.”
“Even though I didn’t do what they’re accusing me of?”
He nods. “You know as well as I do that the MLS isn’t all about the sport.
It’s also a money game. And the truth is, you’ve put the board in a position where they have to choose between you and a major investor.
Because it’s not just this article, is it?
Every week you’re pictured in another compromising position, another woman on your arm, another tell-all piece about what you’re really like in bed. ”
Fuck, I can’t even deny it.
This might be the first time I’ve regretted having sex. Though, let’s be honest, it’s not the sex itself I’m regretting but my lack of foresight to use NDAs. Lesson learned. I’ll have my lawyer draw one up immediately.
“You’re not the only person affected by the bad press, Alex. It reflects badly on the team and therefore the investors. Can you really blame them for not wanting shit like this associated with their name?” Coach taps the pixelated image of “my” ass with his middle finger.
I sink back in my seat, shoulders hunching forward as my head sags between them. “Yeah, I get it.”
He sighs. “They’ve suggested Sully to replace you as captain.”
“What?” My head snaps up.
Coach shrugs, fluorescent beams from the strip lights above us bouncing off the surface of his bald head. “The media loves him. He’s a family man. Two kids. A wife, you know?”
“Considering it’s my sister he’s married to, yes. I do know.”
“Then you understand why the investors would be more comfortable with him as the face of the team.”
Do I understand it? Reluctantly.
Will I allow it? Hell fucking no.
“Things might be different if you were in a serious relationship, like Leo. We could use it to reform your relationship with the media, show that you’re a changed man. A committed man. A family man,” he continues. “But I’m not holding my breath that that’s going to happen any time soon.”
He keeps talking, but I zone him out. Because his words have sparked a lightbulb in my mind, an idea, a chance to hold on to the one thing that matters the most to me in this world. Dramatic, perhaps, but true all the same.
“As it happens,” I cut him off, “I am in a relationship.”
Coach opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. “Sorry, what was that?”
Looking him dead in the eye, I do the one thing I’ve never done: I lie to my coach.
“We haven’t been dating long, and we’ve been doing our best to keep it on the down-low.
She’s a private person, you see. Fuck, she’s gonna be torn up about this article.
How am I going to explain this to her when you don’t even believe me, and you’ve known me for the better part of a decade? ”
I clutch my hand over my heart as if in panic.
And I know I’m being a total dick for lying to the man who has paved the ground I walk on now, but what choice do I have when he’s trying to pull it out from beneath me?
I’m a desperate man, resorting to desperate measures. Understandably, too, in my opinion. Though, I imagine Dr. Sharma wouldn’t see it that way.
Coach scratches the back of his neck. “Right, well, is it serious?”
Sweat beads on my forehead. “Very.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“So much so that I can hardly breathe when we’re apart. You know how it is, Coach. When you know, you know, and all that.”
“Wow.” He lounges back in his chair, his eyes glimmering with something like…pride?
Oh, God.
I’m a piece of shit.
“I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well, it’s here,” I choke out.
“Do you think she’d be willing to pull a few PR stunts with you to get the media back on side?”
Well, shit, I didn’t think this all the way through. “I can ask her. I don’t know, though…”
I’ll have to find a woman willing to play pretend with me first.
Coach reaches over to squeeze my shoulder. “I’m sure she will if she understands what’s at stake here.”
“Yeah.” I cough into a closed fist. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He slaps his knee and stands. “Then we have a plan. Talk to your girl, and I’ll see what I can do with the higher-ups. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do what I can, okay? It’d be a damn shame to see you go.”
Relief soaks me like cold water after a game on a hot day followed quickly by a tidal wave of self-loathing. I nod my thanks, unable to speak through the shame strangling me.
“You’re free to go. But God above, Wolfe, no more scandals, okay? It’s gonna be an ache in my balls trying to plead your case, and I don’t need anything making it worse. You understand?”
Scandal isn’t a strong enough word to describe what would happen if Coach finds out I’ve lied to him. The investors would be the least of my worries. If I fuck this up, Coach will throw me off the team himself.
“Yes, Coach.” I nod solemnly. “I understand.”
“You better.”