Page 18 of The Playmaker
Last year, my piece on a shady NASCAR driver titled "Beneath the Hood: Secrets in the Dark" went viral. I plan to follow that success with whatever secrets Jax is keeping. Everyone has a façade, even me. But not everyone's innocent. Sometimes fame and money corrupt, leading to mistakes that haunt forever.
I pause, staring at a photo of Jax from last season's championship game. That confident smile, those piercing eyes. My stomach tightens. Dad had that same charismatic presence—the kind that made people orbit around him like he was the sun. The kind that made my mom forgive him time and again, until he finally left us for good, chasing glory and adrenaline over family.
"Not falling for that again," I mutter, clicking away from the image.
Pen's unique triple tap followed by a sing-song "yoohoo" jolts me from my research trance. I've been buried in a new story pitch for two hours. I swing open the door and welcome her with a hug.
"Girl, you have that look in your eye," she announces, swooping in to place a box of gluten-free pizza on the counter. "I brought dinner. How was your first day as that sexy man's shadow?"
She takes my hands and pretends to swoon into my arms. "Did you faint into his strong embrace, as if he were Mr. Darcy incarnate?"
I groan. "Oh my god." If she only knew the deliciously dirty things I did with Jax today...
"No?" She straightens, studying me with narrowed eyes. "You're hiding something, Avery. That violates best-friend code, you know."
I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my ears. I won't tell her about the sex, but I will share my plan to expose whatever façade Jax maintains.
"I might have done some digging into Jax. Remember that piece I did on NASCAR last year?"
She pulls out plates and serves pizza. "Yep. You found some gnarly skeletons in that driver's closet."
I follow her to my couch where my pitch glows on my laptop screen. "Well, I might be about to do that for the Phantoms. A piece on Jax."
Pen freezes, pizza plates held out like scales of justice. "No."
With that single word, I know it's a bad idea. But I'm not ready to abandon it.
"Look, I justknowhe's hiding something. I can feel it. His friend 'Hawk'? He seems like the type who dabbles in shady business, so it'd be no surprise if his skeletons came to light. But Jax? He acts all high and mighty, which tells me he's got secrets locked down tight somewhere."
Pen sets the plates down and sits, uncharacteristically serious. "This is a terrible idea. Why target the very guy you're supposed to be writing a script about—one that could end up on Netflix? Hello? Conflict of interest much?"
She's not wrong.
"There's more," she presses, leaning forward.
I shake my head. "Just eat your pizza," I grumble. "I'm still sending my pitch to Ann, not that she'll see it any differently than you do."
Pen picks at her food. "I know you want to end up at ESPN. Sometimes getting noticed means throwing people under the bus for a good story. But when I looked into that restaurant deal he and Hawk are pursuing, I discovered he's actually a good person. Lowkey about his good deeds, but genuinely decent."
"Good deeds?" I scoff, even as guilt builds in my chest. What if he is a good guy and I'm digging for nonexistent dirt?
"Really good," she insists. "He saved a failing ballet school through his donations. He contributes to five different charities. He shows up to every community event the Phantoms organize. And then there's the restaurant chain. There areplenty of shady athletes out there—I just don't think he's one of them."
"Well." I shrug, because what can I say to that?
Pen tilts her head, studying me. "What is it with you and athletes anyway? I've known you since college, and you've had this... vendetta against them. Especially the successful ones."
I take a bite of pizza, chewing slowly to buy time. "I don't have a vendetta."
"Please," Pen rolls her eyes. "Remember that quarterback from State you were supposed to interview? You went in loaded for bear."
I feel my defenses rising. "He was a jerk."
"Maybe. But you decided that before you even met him." She sets her plate down. "Is this about your dad? You never really talk about him."
The pizza suddenly tastes like cardboard in my mouth. "Not much to talk about. He chose his career over us. End of story."
"Avery—"
