Page 75 of A Whole New Game

He doesn’t waste a second. “Do you want to play ball, son?”

I’m not your son.

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

“Surely, you know that if you leave the Lonestars, your career is over?”

It’s a suspicion of mine, but there’s no way of knowing if it’s true. “What is it you want to say to me, Mr. Wilson?”

The older man rises from his chair. “You and I appear to be at an impasse, Johnson. I want a star pitcher who meshes well with my community, and you want to remain an independent piece of the puzzle.”

“That’s not what?—”

“I’m not finished,” he barks, abandoning his nonchalant persona.

I shut my mouth and wait for him to continue.

He exhales through his nostrils and straightens his tie. “As I see it, you have two choices, Johnson. You can let my team work their magic to help make thisproblemfade into the public’s memory, or you can stubbornly refuse to be a team player. But be warned, if you choose the second option, you won’t have a place on the Lonestars when this season is over. Are we clear?”

My jaw muscle ticks. “Crystal.”

“Good.” He nods. “Now, go do your part to fix your mess, Johnson, before it becomes too big to clean up.”

27

CARLEE

I standby the conference room door, waiting for Corey to end his conversation with Mr. Wilson, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

I duck behind the fake ficus situated against the wall when the owner strides out of the room. Corey follows a few seconds later.

“Corey!” I whisper-shout. I step into his path. Expressionless steel-blue eyes meet mine, catching me by surprise. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. “Can we talk?”

His nostrils flare. “Fine.” His conversation with Mr. Wilson must’ve gone poorly.

Without another word, I lead Corey to the stairwell and climb down one flight of stairs. We reach the ad department and I walk to an office that’s been empty since the department downsized a few months ago.

The moment I close the door, Corey states in a cool voice, “You told them.”

“What?”

His expression is stony. It catches me off guard. “Volunteering at Soup Soul was private information, Carlee. Ican’t believe you told your coworkers about it. I can’t believe you used it to further your career.”

I rear back. This isnothow I thought this conversation would go. “Are you being serious right now?”

“I am.”

Unbelievable.

I shake my head and struggle to get my thoughts in order before I speak. “First of all, Corey, I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t tell anyone about you volunteering at Soup Soul.”

He scoffs. “No? Then how did they find out?”

“Maybe someone finally recognized you while you were there,” I point out the obvious. “Or, I don’t know, maybe someone saw you in one of the dozens of photos posted up all around the place? Whatever happened, it wasn’t me. I can’t believe you think I’d doing something like that.” He knows me better than that. At least, I thought he did.

“It’s your job to repair my image, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I always talk to you about the content I want to share first,” I remind him. “I’ve never posted anything without your consent.”

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