Page 162 of By His Play

“I didn’t,” she argues, pushing her chair back and walking around her desk as if that’ll help pacify me.

Anger burns through me, radiating off me in waves. As she gets closer, she must read it, because her confident strides falter.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, I try to stop them from trembling quite so violently.

“If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, but she doesn’t manage to get the words out.

“I told you the truth in confidence,” I shout, the disbelief I felt yesterday morning after Effie showed me the article—the lies—Kat released.

I was already feeling weird knowing that my filthy weekend with Effie was over, that when she woke up, we’d return to normal. I didn’t need to be hit with this as well.

“And then the next thing I know, I’m reading everything I told you not to say online.”

“I know, I know. And I’ve dealt with?—"

“What good is that now? The damage has already been done.”

Kat sucks in a deep breath.

“Kieran, I know you’re upset?—"

“Upset?” I echo. “I specifically told you to protect her.”

“I can assure you it will not happen again.”

“How did it happen this time? Jesus, Kat, I thought you were better than this.”

“Our intern overheard our conversation.”

My eyes widen at her confession.

“Your intern?” I say in disbelief.

“She’s been dealt with.”

“Fired?” I ask, because there is no way anyone who is willing to sell us out so easily should ever be able to step inside this stadium.

“Yes.”

I shake my head, still struggling to stabilize my emotions.

“Good. I will not let anyone out there believe that Effie is a bad person.”

“It’ll blow over. You know it will.”

Irritation ripples through me. Kat might be our publicist and understand the world we live in, but she’ll never fully appreciate what it’s like to be at this end of the stories, to have the public turn on you for fake news.

She’s right. “It will blow over, but that isn’t the point. It should never have happened in the first place.”

“I agree, and I can only apologize.”

Shaking my head, I spin on my heels and storm out of the office and then soon after the building.

The stadium is my home, but right now, it’s the last place I want to be.

"Go on, run. Run. That’s it. TOUCHDOWN,” I scream excitedly as I watch one of the boys at the summer camp we’re helping out at this week slam the ball over the line.

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