Page 117 of Wild Hit
How do I explain that when I did that for a few years, he just maneuvered me into a harder corner?
“It’s okay. It’ll be quick.” I give her a one-armed hug that she returns as though routine. From above her head, I glance at Consuelo and say, “Call me if anything happens, please.”
Anythingcould be an issue with Marty and Consuelo sitting at the WAGs section, even though now the whole team and no doubt their significant others know that I’m not legitimately Miguel’s WAG. Or the game starting before I manage to return. Or Miguel’s beef cakes looking otherworldly in his white uniform pants.
Maybe not that last one. Even though I sure don’t wanna miss it.
As I’m shuffling down the row, I hear an obnoxious voice say, “Ugh, look at her. She’s not even a real WAG.”
Another person shushes the top mean girl, who somehow found herself married to the pretty nice guy that is Mike Brown. “Careful, she’s still the owner’s daughter.”
The comments sound snide and certainly spark the heat of irritation in my chest, but they’re not lies. I have no right to get upset at truths that I withheld and have finally come out.
Of course, the internet is also abuzz about that. Some of Miguel’s most ardent fans have argued that the fact that he didn’t hit any home runs in the previous series is because of the mess I put him in, and that I’m shameless for using him that way.
Joke’s on them because I am nothing but full of shame. And of longing for him.
Staff members have become nicer to me instead. I get greetings and smiles as I make my way through the corridors, away from the general public that would boo the lights out of me. I don’t know if it’s because of the little tidbit about who my biological father is, or if it’s because they’re privy to the deal Miguel and I made. After all, that’s also made the rounds through the company intranet.
Dad’s assistant is still a stuck up snob of a little man, though. I actually appreciate the stability of his character. What I don’t appreciate is what seeing him means.
I try to not sneer at the double doors leading to my father’s office. Why is he even here when his team’s about to fight for the big W out there? Shouldn’t he at least be at the owner’s box?
Turns out I failed, and I have to carefully wipe the annoyance off my face before walking in. Except, instead of finding only my dad inside, there’s also Henry Vos. And that tells me this is gonna be much worse than I anticipated.
I have enough neurons to stay near the door, though, and still I wish I wasn’t anywhere near Henry Vos. Sealing the door shut behind me feels ominous.
Thankfully we’re also nowhere near Miguel’s sight. I’m sure seeing this junk of a human being would turn his stomach, worse than having heaps of candy and proceeding to have a vigorous dance off.
My dad’s frowning at me. “Audrey, come over here,” he demands from behind his desk, but Henry stands beside him as if he was Dad’s son.
“I’m good here,” I offer in a caustic way that I can tell he doesn’t like by the way his twirly mustache curves. “Whatever this is, can it wait? I have to get back to watch my husband’s game.”
Henry barks an unwelcoming laugh. “Still pretending? Breaking news, baby, the ruse is up. I gathered enough evidence of your marriage to that clown being a fraud, and I’ve just shown every last bit of it to your father.”
The block of ice that had slid to my gut not only stayed there, but is now expanding toward my limbs. I wish I wasn’t wearing Miguel’s jersey with the number three emblazoned at the back, and instead was wrapped up in my comfy pajamas and under a fluffy blanket, and that this whole scene was just a Kdrama playing on my TV screen.
Alas, Henry’s face is still painted with the glee of a villain who just won, and Dad’s is full of disappointment.
“Is this all true, Audrey?” the latter asks, his voice rasping with how low and angry it is.
Henry cuts me off before I can even make a sound. “Don’t try to deny it. I have witness statements from a few players and even a WAG, and plenty of footage.”
A WAG, huh? I bet it was Amber, trying to get back at me for not playing her game. And she did seem oddly interested in my affairs.
“Is that the one you got after hiring a PI to spy on our private life?” I snap, absolutely out of shits to give. He’s cornered me against a wall, thinking I was going to coil up and whimper.
No, I’m going to fight. With every tooth and nail until I bleed, because this is no longer about me. This is about Miguel and Marty’s safety against these entitled rich men.
Slowly, my father turns his chair toward the younger man. “You did what?”
I blink for a solid few seconds. That tone of voice from my dad awakens the sleeper cells of my childhood traumas. He used to exercise that voice whenever he found out about Mom’s latest indiscretions, or whenever he caught Adam sneaking in alcohol so he could knock himself asleep and not hear the drama anymore. And also when I disappointed him, which was any time I did anything but acting like a doll.
I had never seen him use that tone on anyone outside of his so-called family, though.
That’s also probably why Henry doesn’t realize the danger he’s in, and fully steps into the trap. “I had no other choice. I knew there was something weird about Audrey marrying some random guy she just met, especially when I’ve faced years of rejection from her.”
“Yeah, because hitting on me at my brother’s funeral sure was going to be a great start to a relationship between us,” I deadpan with tragic sharpness.
