Page 48 of Love Never Happens with your Brother’s Best Friend

“Brodie didn’t do it. It’s all a big fat lie.” I’m angry and frustrated.

“I know, Sis,” Dylan says softly. “There’s not much we can do now but wait.”

In the living room, Dad has turned on the TV. I don’t want to see the pictures displayed on the screen, but I’m rooted to the spot and compelled to watch. I sit on the couch next to Mom. The TV is tuned to a news channel that’s showing the shocking story about the politician’s daughter and the star football player. The announcer says that updates are coming in from the quarterback’s secret hideaway. A headline flashes underneath Love rat runs to ground to avoid paternity test.

“This is insane,” says Dylan shaking his head in disbelief. He sits down next to Dad.

Blurry pictures of Brodie with a beer bottle in his hand, arms around a group of people, flash up on the screen. The newscaster says that Brodie has a history of being a lady’s man, party animal. He is a notorious heartbreaker, with links to glamorous A-list celebrities.

A photo montage of Brodie with various female Hollywood film stars zooms in and out of view. There’s a brief interview with a famous leggy blond woman who says candidly that the allegations don’t surprise her, at all. She had one date with Brodie Kent, and he didn’t call her, which is a clear sign of immaturity.

“He just can’t handle commitment of any kind,” she says pouting at the camera. “I feel sorry for the guy. He needs therapy.”

“Urgh! Who are these people?” I shout at the TV.

The movie star is replaced by a picture of a middle-aged bald man in a dark suit, speaking at a podium against The Star and Stripes in the background. This image is set beside a young, blond woman stepping out of a limousine.

The news anchor goes on to say that Nancy Sheldon, daughter of wealthy and influential Cedric Sheldon, claims to have met Brodie at a New York club, last year. Eyewitnesses claim the couple were flirting and left the party together.

The next image is of Brodie scoring a touchdown at some stadium.

Then the picture is back on the newsman who says, “Today, a spokesman for the Boston Bullets’ superstar quarterback, refutes Miss Sheldon’s claims, stating that her story is purely fiction and questions the accuracy of her recall and the robustness of her present mental state. Miss Sheldon has attended a rehabilitation center in recent years. But, Miss Sheldon’s family is calling for a paternity test from Mr Kent, which, they say will corroborate the truth of their daughter’s allegations.”

“Let’s turn this off,” says Mom. “It’s just poisonous garbage.” But Dad has the remote and continues to watch. “Well, I’m going to tidy up in the kitchen. I can’t watch any more of this.”

Mom picks up one of the trays and leaves the room. Dad and Dylan don’t move, and I stay hypnotized by the flickering screen.

The anchorman shuffles a stack of papers, leans forward on the news desk, and says directly to camera, “However, when a News of Sport reporter attempted to contact Mr Kent for a statement, he was told that Mr Kent had been given leave by the Bullets’ management, for some rest and relaxation, because of personal reasons, which, from every angle, does appear that the football star is avoiding his responsibilities. We have this statement from the Bullets’ manager, Mr Bowden, who says this...”

The screen flicks to a series of shots of Brodie in Bullets uniform.

The anchorman reads the statement that has flashed onto the screen.

As you’ll appreciate, players are under enormous pressure. Team management felt that it was best that Mr Kent took some leave that he was due. But when he is fit and ready to answer questions, he, no doubt, will. Until such times, please have respect in this difficult situation, and give Mr Kent, as well as his friends and family, the privacy they need. Thank you.

Then the newscaster appears again. “But, according to Senator Sheldon, that is unacceptable and Mr Kent should be accountable for his, er-hem, actions.”

The announcer rounds up with more photos of Brodie pictured with A-lister women and then segues tidily to the weather forecast.

But then…

“Breaking news,” the announcer says, shuffling his papers again, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “This report has just come through regarding the Kent versus Sheldon case. It’s a statement from Nancy Sheldon who has sent this video for immediate release.”

The News of Sport announcer is replaced by Nancy Sheldon who is holding a piece of paper. She looks down at it and begins to read.

“Jeanie!” yells Dad. “You’d better come and see this.” In a nanosecond, Mom is back in the living room. She perches on the arm of Dad’s chair and listens intently.

“My name is Nancy Sheldon. I recently accused Bullets player, Brodie Kent, of being the father of my child. The truth is… This is a fabrication.” Nancy’s hands start shaking, causing the paper to flap. It’s clear she’s upset but she swallows down her sobs and presses on. “I accused Mr Kent because I wanted to hurt him. He rejected me, so I thought that I could wreck his career.” Someone off-camera hands Nancy a tissue. She wipes her nose and dries her eyes and refocuses on the piece of paper. “My motivation was selfish and mean. And I am truly sorry for any trouble I have caused Mr Kent, his friends and family, and the Bullets football team. I hereby retract my claims of paternity. That is all I want to say.”

The picture flicks back to the wide-eyed announcer who is obviously stunned into silence. There’s a beat before he regains professional composure, clears his throat, and says, “That’s an unexpected development, folks. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be right back after a word from our sponsors.” The TV screen switches to an ad.

“Gosh. That’s wonderful,” says Mom. She says something else, but I don’t hear her because I am out of the door and down the front steps. I run down to the gate where Brodie stands in front of a wall of cameras and microphones. He turns around when he hears someone coming.

“Brodie! She took it all back!” I yell at the top of my voice.

Brodie scoops me up in his arms and buries his face in my neck then he puts me back down on my feet.

“Rita. Tell me.” Brodie holds my shoulders and looks into my eyes, confused. “What happened?”

---