Page 29 of Breaking the Ice

“Trust me, Zach. Yolanda is the kind of person who will eventually hang herself. You just have to give her enough rope.”

I know he’s right. I just hate sitting around and waiting for her to try to bring me down. “Is there a back entrance to this place that’s unlocked?” I ask my brother.

“The players’ locker room door is open,” he says. “It’s about a third of the way around the building, east of the entrance.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right in,” I tell him. And then out of nowhere an idea starts to form how I can make people see the truth about Yolanda. The only hitch is that I’ll need a little help from Ellie, and I’m not sure she’ll be interested in taking part.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ellie

I feel Yolanda’s eyes boring into me as I retrieve the swag baskets for the players. She’s vastly different in person than her television persona would lead a person to believe. It’s hard to reconcile her being the same person.

As I bring in the last four baskets, the reporter walks over to me. “Need some help?” Even though her tone is friendly, after our last interaction I’m super cautious. “I’m good, thanks.”

“I’m sorry about how I acted earlier,” she says. “Zach just brings it out in me.”

Yolanda is still at my side when I walk into the office and put down my final load. I turn to her and respond, “Zach said you’re making everything up. He said your PR team set you up.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “In positions like ours, PR people are our dating apps. Our reps know what we want, and they facilitate our desires.” The look on my face must be one of horror, because she hurries to add, “Timothee and Kylee started as a PR couple. Then there’s Taylor and Travis, Kim and her second husband, Brad and Jen, and let’s not forget Nick and Priyanka. Just because couples meet through their reps doesn’t mean they aren’t real couples.”

I guess I can understand that. “But you and Zach only went out three times,” I tell her. “How does that make you a couple?”

“What does the number of dates have to do with anything?” she asks. “People sleep together before they even go on one date. They run off and elope in Vegas after two. Three dates are a lifetime when you’re in the public eye.”

Ew. But I don’t say that. Instead, I go with, “It’s none of my business either way. I’m not dating Zach and I’m not interested in dating him.” A tiny voice inside my head accuses, Liar.

“Then you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me out?” The look in her eyes makes my blood run cold.

“I don’t want to get involved,” I tell her. “My life keeps me plenty busy without looking for additional drama.”

“Even if I paid you?” She must sense my desperation for funds, because she clarifies, “Say, ten grand for a month of work?” She explains, “I need an ally here for when I’m back in LA.”

Ten thousand dollars is an astounding amount of money. Not only would it get my mom a tricked-out motorized wheelchair, but it would also go a long way in making some long-overdue repairs to our house. Yet, there’s no way I’d feel good about taking money that might do someone else harm. And I’m not convinced that isn’t what Yolanda is after. As much as it hurts, I tell her, “I’m good, thanks.”

She looks beyond surprised. “How about twenty thousand?”

My jaw drops open like a mounted fish. “Dollars?”

“For one month,” she repeats.

I don’t know whether to believe Zach or Yolanda, but I’m pretty sure I’m leaning toward Zach. No one offers twenty K for help if they have the truth on their side. “I appreciate the offer, Yolanda, but I really don’t want to get involved.”

Her eyes narrow like she’s trying to decide if I’m for real or not. “Don’t answer me yet,” she says. “Let’s wait a few days and see if you feel the same way.”

I don’t know what she thinks will change my mind, but even if Zach is a real heel, I don’t want any part of this. “I don’t need to wait,” I tell her. “I’ve made up my mind.” As I turn to walk out of the office, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made a world-class enemy. The thought causes the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention.

After Yolanda follows me out of the office, I lock the door. Then without another word, I scurry out of the building like Ringwraiths are chasing me.

Once I’m in my car, I check the time and discover it’s already past eleven. I look at my phone and don’t see any texts from my mom, which causes a bit of worry. Pulling out of my parking spot, I make short work of driving the few miles home.

After sticking my key into the lock, I swing open the front door of our house only to find the living room empty. The lights are all out and my mother isn’t sitting in her lift chair. “Mom?” I call out.

When there’s no answer, I yell louder, “Mom! Where are you?”

I hurry down the hall to her bedroom, but she’s not in her bed. Real panic overtakes me as I cross the carpet to the bathroom. That’s where I find her. My mother is lying on the floor looking like a discarded rag doll. I gently touch her arm and shake her slightly, “Mom, it’s Ellie. Are you okay?”

She moans before trying to turn over. “Ellie …” I’m beyond relieved to hear my name. I was terrified she was dead.

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