4. Liana
Rookies. They’re like toddlers with seven-figure bank accounts. They’re barely able to stand on two feet, and they’re thrust into a world they only think they understand.
Obviously, they know how to play the game. That was proven in college. But they’ve never been in a spotlight quite like the NFL where their every move isn’t just documented but examined under a microscope.
Pro football is so much more than four quarters on a Sunday afternoon. People invest their money, their time, and some even their lives into cheering for their favorite team. Some fans make it their entire personality—see the “Birds of Prey” in Section 10 at every Osprey home game with their faces painted, chanting to the songs they’ve made up about their favorite players.
Orlando might be a newcomer in the NFL, but our fan section quickly rose in the ranks as one of the most vocal. The Ospreys made quite the splash, so to speak, winning a Super Bowl in the first three seasons as a franchise.
The fans expect a lot out of these athletes. They don’t like scandals. The past year in Orlando has been nothing but scandal.
As the public relations coordinator, it’s my job to ensure the team gets back into the media’s good graces. I do that in several ways. I tee up interviews for the players, knowing which reporters will lob softballs. And I make sure they steer clear of the sharks. Florida has plenty.
My main job these past few months has been to monitor social media. For most players, it’s an easy task. They only post the occasional picture, and they’re allowed to do it themselves.
A handful of players need my approval before they’re allowed to post.
Then we have the troublemakers—the five players who had their accounts removed by order of the GM, that’s the general manager of the team. The ban hammer landed hard and fast after these guys slipped into the DMs of a few ladies who weren’t too keen on their advances.
Funny how when the first story came to light, it didn’t take long for other screenshots to follow. Thus our PR nightmare began.
Only it wasn’t just five players involved. There was a sixth. Or rather, a first. A player who had slipped into my DMs. Was he punished? Of course not because he’s our star. The quarterback. The guy everyone loves.
I was asked to sweep Jake Lawson’s transgressions under the rug, get a new phone number, and pretend like it never happened.
Oh, I could pretend. As Liana Langston, public relations manager for the Orlando Ospreys, I pretended to care about the team’s profile.
Then at night, as my alter-ego, OspreyInformant89, I did everything I could to thwart whatever progress I’d made in my job.
The Hard Count, as my followers call it, is a social media feed exposing those exposing themselves. I built it by reaching out to a fan who’d had a similar experience as me. But rather than take her story to the GM and watch her harasser get the same treatment as Jake, I decided we should take matters into our own hands.
We shared screenshots of every phone call and every message. I’ve helped others do the same.
The GM has been one step behind. Unable to use the team’s money or his power to hide a player’s misdeeds, he’s resorted to something so desperate it just might work. He tasked me with developing a program to educate the players on social media interactions.
He also asked me to set up tonight’s one-on-one session. This after he heard rumblings of our rookie quarterback’s involvement in some sort of catfish relationship.
I can’t say I’m not intrigued.
Tate Rushmire is the type of gorgeous that can take up ad space in magazines. No matter what he was selling, people would be buying. Me included.
I might’ve lingered around practice a few times just because he had his shirt off. I won’t even get started about the tight football pants. But fantasies aside, Tate’s a rookie. And I have a rule about football players. I don’t date them.
So what if seeing him in a navy suit standing outside the locker room is almost better than without a shirt. I promise myself not to get distracted by his chiseled jawline or stunningly blue eyes… eyes that match the shade of his crooked tie.
He’s wearing a pair of brown Oxfords in place of the sneakers so many of his teammates prefer. His thick black hair is parted neatly, held firmly in place but without the shine of gel.
He looks ready to go eat at a five-star restaurant and not the Olive Garden I’ve booked based on its proximity to the stadium.
“Hey, Tate.”
We’ve never actually spoken except by email.
I remind myself again he’s a baby in this league. Knowing football players, he probably thinks he’s God’s gift to the world, all because he can throw a pigskin a quarter mile.
Tate looks up and flashes a million-dollar smile. Something inside me flutters to life, something I haven’t felt since Jake Lawson’s advances.
All I want to do is bury it away again. Not him. Not now.
Besides, I’m already kind of crushing on someone else. Someone I’ve never even met.
I shake off that strange feeling and smile. “You ready to go?”
“Liana, hey.” Tate looks hesitant, then nods. “As ready as I can be. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of making a reservation. You said we’d be getting dinner together, right?”
“I did. But you didn’t have to do that. Are you even familiar with Dallas-Fort Worth?”
“I’m not,” he admits. “I’m good with Yelp though.”
“With Yelp?” I can’t help but smile. “Really?”
“You aren’t a vegan, are you?”
I laugh but he’s serious. “No, I’m not a vegan.”
“Good. That would’ve ruined my whole night.”
I didn’t want to say it out loud, but that was actually why I was there, to ruin his night.