12. Liana
Asecurity guard escorts me outside the hotel where a town car is waiting to take me to the airport. The GM stands beside it. He tells me I won’t be catching the flight with the team. He hands me a paper ticket.
“I should have fired you as soon as you told me about Jake,” the GM says.
What I can’t figure out is how he caught me. I was always careful to separate my work accounts from Osprey_Informant89. But the original emails—maybe he found them?
“I had my suspicions when that account first started,” he says. “But I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I allowed you full access to the team. I made them respect you.”
I shake my head. “No, I did that.”
“Just like you made Tate Rushmire respect you. I know what the two of you were up to last night.”
Hot anger boils through me. This man isn’t worth it. The job either. I don’t owe them anything else. I shove past him and get into the car.
They send me home in coach. And although there are plenty of direct flights into Orlando, they also saddle me with the biggest layover of my life—six hours in Charlotte. There’s exactly nothing to do in the Charlotte airport, which I’m sure the GM knows.
The team was quick to lock me out of my accounts, so I have no way of contacting Tate except as Not Mal, who he hasn’t texted since our date last night. Either he’s put things together and figured out who I am or he’s giving her space for that project that needs tweaking. I pray it’s the latter.
Last night, it really was tweaking. I had a plan to tell Tate when I went over to his house. Now, I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me. The project needs a complete overhaul. I dwell on the task ahead for far too long, almost missing the flight to Orlando.
I start by going live on my feed and outing myself for the world, although several news outlets have already done their due diligence. But they don’t know the true story.
Not until now.
“Hey, Osprey Informants. It’s me, Liana. I’m sure you’ve already seen all the hot takes. Maybe you’ve come here expecting another. I’m just not sure I’m ready for that.
“The truth is I started this account because, like a lot of women, I was harassed at work by someone with power. The whole thing got swept under the rug. In fact, it was kind of my job to do the sweeping. I resented that, but I allowed it to happen.
“Then someone contacted me. She’d been through the same kind of hell I had. And I knew if I told my boss, he’d just ask me to sweep some more. I couldn’t do that.
“I don’t hate the Orlando Ospreys. I don’t hate football players. At least not anymore. But I do hate it when people who have the power to impart change don’t.
“I’m not shutting down this account. Because I still have some power. It’s time I go to the mattresses…
“So, for anyone who needs it, I’m here to share your stories. Together, we can impart that change.”
I know I’ve said the right things when my feed is flooded with the heart emojis. I also know better than to go check my DMs—that’s where the trolls love to hide their filth.
I don’t know if Tate will see this. But I hope he does. And I hope he and the rest of the team can forgive me.
A little while later, my phone buzzes with a text.
Leonard
How goes the tweaking?
I’m not sure what to say. I wish I had some insight into what he was thinking.
The dots appear again.
Leonard
I could really use an ear right now.
I’m here.
Leonard
I have this friend. I was mad today. At her. At the circumstance. Then I heard her side of things.
And?
Leonard
And I don’t think I’m mad anymore. No, that’s not right. I am mad. I’m pissed. But not at her.
Yeah?
Leonard
I think I can help her… if she’ll let me.