The Game Changer: A Novel (17 page)

“I will.”

“So, Cassie, now that your gorgeous super jock is back in your life, you’re not going to quit the magazine, are you?” She smirked at me knowingly as I pinched my eyebrows together.

“No. Why on earth would I quit?” The last thing I wanted to do was leave this job. While the very idea of Jack being back in my life caused my soul to beam with love, I still had career goals I wanted to achieve. I moved across the country to work for this magazine, and Jack didn’t affect my feelings about that.

“I was just making sure. I’d hate to lose you and all that beautiful potential you have.”

“As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours,” I said with a nervous grin.

“Good. I assume you’ll be traveling with the team some, won’t you?”

My breathing hitched as the question echoed in my ears. “I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest. Work is my priority, so I guess I’ll go to some of the away games on the weekends if I’m not busy.”

Jack’s schedule hadn’t even entered my mind. I’d been so overjoyed at simply having him back in my life, it never occurred to me. I had no idea how long he’d be in town before he turned around and left again. I made a mental note to talk about his travel schedule that night, after the game.

“Maybe we can schedule some magazine work in with your boy’s away games. Kill two birds with one stone?” she offered with a wink.

I fought back against the burn of tears forming in my eyes. I would not cry, no matter how kind and amazing this woman was to me. “If that would work out and it makes sense for the magazine, it would be amazing. But you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. And I’m not making any promises. Just bring me a copy of Jack’s schedule, and I’ll have my assistant look into it.” Her eyes wandered, glazing over as she tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe we can work in an online feature where we travel with you, highlighting some local human-interest stories from wherever you are. Or we can highlight the team and the charities they visit when they travel?” She hummed lightly. “So many possibilities. Although I’m not sure how they will work since the teams are usually in and out of towns rather quickly. But something to consider nonetheless.”

I listened to the thoughts and ideas that spilled from my boss’s mind, quietly waiting for her to dismiss me as my own excitement grew. The idea of being able to possibly work and travel with Jack at the same time thrilled me, but I refused to get my hopes up for something that might not be feasible.

“Go.” She waved me away. “We’ll talk about this later.”

I scurried out of the kitchen before flipping on my computer and scanning last night’s e-mails. I smiled when I saw Melissa’s name in my inbox.

Cass,

Just remember one thing… when life gives you lemons, cut ’em open and squeeze the juice in life’s face!!!!! That’ll teach life to mess with you! HA!

Hang in there. The photo will blow over. You can always call Mom and talk to her if the shit hits the fan. In the meantime, I’ll monitor all the websites you guys show up on and see if I can run interference. You
know, post things anonymously to try to help. I’ve already favorited the local NY gossip sites so I’ve got you covered, GF!

Love you. Miss you.

Melissa’s mom owned a successful boutique publicity firm in Los Angeles. She maintained an exclusive group of big-name clientele, but always made sure to keep that small business feel. Inadvertently I’d learned a lot from her over the years just by overhearing her business meetings and phone calls. This sort of thing was right up her alley, and I knew she’d be more than happy to help me if it got to that point.

Please, dear God, don’t let it get to that point.

I hit the Reply button and quickly typed out a response before handling my daily duties.

Meli,

That picture was in the paper this morning. The actual PRINTED version! And they printed my name, but just my first name, thank God. I’m so freaking embarrassed, but what can I do, right?! Ugh. I will definitely call Mom if things get out of control, but I’m going to work on being more aware of my surroundings from now on. Hopefully they won’t have anything to print of me going forward, unless it’s my face wearing a big-ass, shit-eating grin. :) Call you soon.

xoxo

My cell phone vibrated as I searched online for upcoming events our readers might be interested in seeing. The magazine printed human-interest stories, with the inclusion of local politics, news, and happenings around the five boroughs. When I started, I mostly handled the research for future issues, but once a week I was assigned a general event to cover and photograph. My bosses never promised me that my photographs would be used, but since I started working here six months ago, they always have.

I glanced at my phone, noting one new text message from Jack on the screen. My body trembled at simply seeing his name. I pressed the button, displaying the message:

Matteo will pick you up at 6. You need to go to the sales office and pick up your ID card. See you after the game. Love you.

Without responding, I set my phone aside. As I completed my work assignments, my thoughts kept drifting to my conversation with Nora from earlier, hope filling my mind.

Matteo pulled up outside the Will Call booth again, and I averted my eyes from the hint of a tattoo that crept up from underneath his white dress shirt. I wondered what it was, but I was too embarrassed to ask. I caught sight of his blue eyes watching me in the rearview mirror and smiled. He turned to exit the car when I stopped him.

“You don’t have to open the door for me. I got it. Thank you, though. I’ll see you later.” I scooted out of the backseat, shutting the car door behind me. Matteo waved before driving off.

I approached the booth window. “Hi. I’m Cassie Andrews, Jack Carter’s girlfriend. He said I needed to pick up an ID card?”

The young girl smiled. “See that building over there?” She pointed to my right, and I nodded. “Just go inside and they’ll take your picture and print your card for you.”

“Thanks.” Confused and unsure, I asked, “Do I still need a ticket to get in?”

“Yes, you do. The ID card is so you can get down to the locker rooms at away stadiums.” She handed me an envelope with one ticket inside.

“Ah. That makes sense. Thanks so much.” I turned to leave, walking toward the other building.

My freshly printed ID card in hand, I made my way to my assigned seat. It wasn’t the same seat from last night’s game, but it was still in the same section. Tension galloped through my body like a racehorse as I neared the seats filled with the mean girls.

“Try not to yell at your boyfriend tonight, Cassie!” A manly voice mocked me from behind and I stopped midstep.

“Bitch,” another voice mumbled within earshot.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Resisting the urge to look over my shoulder and confront the hecklers, I straightened my shoulders and continued toward my appointed row, my heart pounding out beats in double time against my flesh.

“If poor Jack gets cussed out when he wins, imagine what she does to him when he loses!” another voice bellowed, barely louder than the pounding that echoed in my ears.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I quickened my pace down the concrete steps. I shuffled into my seat, recognizing the meanest wife, Kymber, right away as she watched the situation unfolding. She laughed and whispered something into the ear of the wife sitting next to her. Both women glanced at me before directing their attention elsewhere.

So, it’s really going to be like this. Awesome.

My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my pocket. Thankful to see Melissa’s name on the screen, I clicked the text message button.

Put that shit-eating grin on, babe!

That was all she wrote, followed by a picture of me walking in the stadium, an uncomfortable look plastered all over my face.

I shoved my phone into my purse, feeling nervous and extremely exposed. It was one thing to be in a stadium filled with people when no one knew who you were, but it was quite another when you were recognized. I’d become completely identifiable to
the thousands of people around me, all of whom knew—thanks to the pictures popping up online and in the press—I was Jack Carter’s girlfriend.

These fans had already formed their own opinions about the picture printed in the newspaper this morning. They assumed they knew me, or knew the kind of person I was. They made judgment calls about my character based on nothing but a simple photo taken completely out of context, which, as a photographer, really pissed me off. I strived to maintain my integrity when I was shooting, making sure that my photographs and edits always captured what was truly going on in the scene. I never attempted to create a false illusion with my pictures. Apparently it was too much to ask others to do the same.

If people wanted to take pictures of me without my knowledge, they absolutely could… and they would. If they wanted to approach me, there was nothing to stop them. I lacked any sort of self-protection, and it worried me. If the other wives weren’t such raging bitches, I would have asked them how they got through it. It amazed me that none of them offered to help, or asked if I was OK. I looked around for Trina, but she was nowhere to be found. And since Jack pitched last night, he wouldn’t be pitching at all tonight.

I toyed with the idea of calling Matteo and going back home, but the potential fallout cemented my ass right to my seat. I imagined pictures of me leaving the game early followed by distasteful and untrue headlines.

Nope. I wasn’t moving. My pride refused to let me.

My phone vibrated again and I considered not grabbing it. One reminder pulse later, I reached into my purse, pulling it out. Another text from Melissa. Did I want to see this? Resigned to whatever fate was throwing at me tonight, I clicked the Read button.

Remember: LEMONS! In. Their. Faces.

A smile crept over my face as I stifled a laugh, hearing her voice in my head. Meli was right. I inhaled a sharp breath, suddenly filled with the determination to rise above this madness. I would not let them beat me. Not the mean-spirited fans. Not the horrible wives. Not the newspapers or online sites.

I watched this game for one reason and one reason only.

Jack. Fucking. Carter.

No one in this stadium had any idea the kind of hell Jack and I had endured in the past, and I’d be damned if anyone was going to ruin this for me after all we’d been through. I crossed my legs and leaned my back against the cold, hard seat, silently wishing Trina would show up soon.

Yes, I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to show them that they wouldn’t tear me down and wreck this experience. But it sure would be nice to have a friend by my side while I stayed strong in the face of such intentional ugliness.

You’ll be fine, Cass. You can do this.

And I did.

For nine long innings, without Trina by my side, I endured. I left my seat before the game officially ended in order to separate myself from the rowdy crowd as it exited. As I walked up the staircase, the sound of someone snorting and coughing briefly caught my attention. I continued up the stairs, but the sound of wetness hitting the pavement forced my attention downward. My gaze stopped on the blob of spit mere centimeters from my front foot.

“Stupid bitch,” a clearly drunken voice slurred.

Without thinking, my middle finger shot up from my right hand and flashed the crowd as I exited the aisle and into the tunnels.

Shit. I probably shouldn’t have done that.

The next morning infamous photos of Cassie flipping the bird photos were all over the Internet. Captions read: “Jack’s Sweetheart is Anything But!” and “Sassy Cassie Has Quite the Temper!” They were childish and annoying, but they affected me nonetheless. Embarrassment crept over me as I found myself thankful that Jack avoided the Internet. I quickly typed out a text to Melissa.

Make sure Dean doesn’t show that shit to Jack. I don’t need him worrying about me or yelling at me or being upset with me over this. Please make sure you talk to him.