Page 59 of Roughing the Player
I come to my feet and take a step toward the door.
“Oh, one more thing. The sooner you make that joint statement, the better. We don’t want to give this story any more oxygen than it already has.”
With my back to him, I nod. “Of course.”
But as it turns out, I don’t get a chance to call Brock. He’s already in my office waiting for me. As soon as I step in, he comes to his feet. His face reflects a myriad of emotions—anger, concern. But mostly, resolve. “We have to talk,” he says.
“I know.”
Before I can say anything else, my assistant knocks on the glass door. I hadn’t checked in with her on the way back, mainly because I was in a daze. But something tells me I really should have.
“Come in.”
She dashes in, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry to interrupt.” She hands me a note. “Your mom called while you were with Marty. She says to call her back right away. It’s urgent.”
My stomach lurches. “Thanks.” I grab my cell from my desk and dial mom’s number. She picks up before the second ring.
“What’s wrong? It’s not Kaylee, is it?” She’d endured the gossip storm at her school for the last two days, but today she’d begged off with the excuse of a stomach ache. I hadn’t the heart to deny her.
“No. She’s fine. It’s a mess of photographers, about twenty of them, in front of the house. Snapping pictures, trampling over the bushes. Butch’s going crazy. He’s tearing at the front door trying to get to them. You better come home, honey.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Whatever you do, don’t let Butch out.” He might be mild tempered, but he’s still a Pit Bull. He’s so protective of us, he might do some serious damage to those photographers.
“What’s wrong?” Brock asks, looking just as worried as I feel.
I summarize Mama’s end of the conversation. “How did they find out where I live?”
“It’s not that hard, Ellie. Not when you live, eat, and breathe tabloid journalism.”
Angry about the invasion of privacy, I lash out at him. “Is that what you call it?”
“No. I call it trash. But it’s lucrative trash. They make a lot of money from these stories.”
“Well, it sucks.” My life’s going off the rails, and I don’t know how to get it back on track.
“Yeah, it does.” He touches my shoulder. “Ellie, let me come with you.”
Not happening. “I don’t think so.” I shrug him off. “It would make things worse.”
“How can it be any worse?”
He does have a point. But I’m not convinced he’ll improve the situation.
“You don’t want them there, right?”
I nod.
“Well, from personal experience I can tell you they won’t leave until they get something. I can give that to them.”
I rub a hand across my brow against the incipient headache blossoming there. “Like what?”
“A statement from me while I’m standing in front of your house. That way they’ll get a photo and copy.”
Given how much experience he’s had with these types of things, I have to trust his idea will work. It’s worth a shot anyway. “Okay. Let’s go with that.” I grab my purse and briefcase. On the way out, I tell my assistant, “We’re headed home. Please call Marty and let him know that Mr. Parker is with me.”
She nods, but her gaze zeroes in on Brock. So does everyone else’s. Seems most of those working here have found a reason to hang out around my office. The only thing that’s missing is the popcorn so they can enjoy the show.
But I don’t have time to worry about that as we head out the agency’s front doors. Once in the elevator, I punch P4.
