Page 4 of 7 Nights of Sin

Chapter 2

Kevin

"What the fuck were you thinking, Kev? Wait, don't answer that, I already know the answer. You weren't. You never are! You just run around like you're untouchable, and then come crying to me when you get in over your head."

I thought about pointing out that she was the one who had come storming in to scream at me, but that seemed like it would just make her yell more.

Kathleen Smith was the best agent in the business as far as I was concerned, but she had a hair trigger temper, and I was good at pushing her buttons.

Even when I hadn't even done anything.

She was standing in the middle of the men's locker room like she didn't give a single shit that a naked man could come strolling out at any second, hands on her hips, brown eyes blazing as she glared down at me.

"This is a step too fucking far, Kev. She's telling anyone who will listen this shit, and they're turning around and telling everybody else. I've already had six calls this afternoon from your sponsors. Six! Do you know how much groveling I'm having to do to get them to just listen? If you were anyone else, you would have been dropped already."

I smirked, leaning back on my hands on the bench. "Good thing I'm me then, huh?"

She just glared harder. "Of course you think this is funny. Of course you do. You have no fucking sense of when to listen and act right."

"Kath, you're not even letting me get a word in edgewise," I pointed out. "I'm just waiting for you to be done with the lecture so I can say my piece."

"What could you possibly have to say to defend yourself against this?" She practically threw a magazine at me, and I picked it up, scanning the cover quickly.

Christine looked as beautiful as ever, smiling from the cover, and I shook my head, not even bothering to open it up and read the article. I'd already gotten the gist from the internet at large that day.

Things with my ex-wife had always been complicated. Even when we were still married. And by 'complicated' I meant 'a steaming dumpster of bullshit'. She was a classic narcissist, and she couldn't stand when someone got more attention than she did.

Whenever I had to go away for games or press tours or whatever, she would throw fits, buying expensive shit with my money or sleeping around just because she thought she could.

She was a tantrum waiting to happen most of the time, and divorcing her was the best decision I had ever made.

Until now, apparently.

The hilarious thing was that it wasn't even true. I'd never cheated on her. Drinking, sure. I'd cop to that. But when we were married, I was faithful as fuck, and what did I have to show for it?

Kathleen standing there looking like I'd just dropped a racial slur on TV or something.

Once she seemed to have tired herself out with the yelling, I sighed, running a hand over my face. "You haven't even asked me if it's true yet," I pointed out.

"It doesn't matter if it's fucking true, Kevin," she snapped. "You've been doing this long enough to know that. It matters that people are going to keep spreading it around. It matters that it's fucking up your already precarious image, and making sponsors think twice. Do you want to lose everything you've worked for?"

"You know I don't," I quipped back. "But you're standing there, bitching me out like I actually did this."

"Fine," she said. "You didn't cheat on your wife or whatever other garbage she's accusing you of. But there are two thousand pictures of you in various places, with drinks in one hand and women who are not Christine in the other. And how do you think that makes you look?"

She had a point, and I looked away with a sigh. All of those times were either before I was married or after the divorce, but with the media latching onto the story, it didn't matter. It was all fair game to be dragged up and used against me.

I rubbed my head, already feeling a headache building.

"I've warned you before, Kevin," Kathleen continued. "I've told you time and time again that you have to be more sensible. You have to be fucking smart. Imagine how much easier this could blow over if there weren't so much damning evidence."

"Yeah, okay. I get it," I said.

"Do you? Because this isn't going to just go away. You're in deep shit now. I haven't heard from Matty, but I can't imagine he's too happy about this."

I winced. Matty Morello was the head coach of the Empires, and he made Kathleen look easy-going. He didn't tolerate fuck-ups for very long, and the only reason he put up with so much of my shit was because I kept the team winning. I was a first-class player, so he overlooked some of my...indiscretions.

But if things got too bad, I knew he wouldn't be willing anymore. There were plenty of other players he could find to replace me if he had to.

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