Page 27 of Pitch Perfect (Boys of Summer 1)

“You’re quoted in it.” She tapped the paper, though nowhere near his actual quote. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know about this.”

“I had no idea.”

“Then why are you quoted in it?”

“Simon interviewed me on opening day, remember? He asked some questions about you. I had no idea we were still on record. I thought we were shooting the shit and he wanted to know how you were fitting in.” He folded the paper up and handed it back to her. “I really don’t know why this has you so upset. Have you read some of the stuff they write about me?”

“That’s not the point. You’re a star, Tucker, they’re supposed to write about you. I’m nobody. My job is to stretch out muscles, ice wounds and make sure you idiots don’t royally screw up your multimillion-dollar contracts.”

“You’re not nobody, Emmy.”

“I’m nobody that deserves a two-page newspaper story. I sure as hell shouldn’t be written up in a market I don’t even work in anymore. This isn’t good for me.”

Tucker crouched down and picked up a baseball, not sure what to do with his hands when they were empty and she was off-limits. He wrestled with the notion that maybe he should give her a hug, but he wasn’t sure where that registered on the scale as far as bad and good ideas went. Holding a baseball took the notion off the table entirely.

“Why?” he asked plainly. He couldn’t wrap his head around her reaction to the article, or why she was mad at him for being an unwitting party to it.

“Imagine you had a famous father. Like an actor.”

“Okay.”

“Now imagine you wanted to be a part of the same industry he was famous for.”

“Sure.”

“And say you work your ass off to succeed. Envision the years it took you to be taken seriously as your own person in that industry.”

The little bulb went off over Tucker’s head, and he caught up to what Emmy was suggesting. “Oh.”

“It’s bad enough he mentions my dad three times. What’s worse is the number of times he points out I’m a woman.”

“Well…you are a woman.”

“I know.”

“So…”

“My doing this job isn’t about me being a woman. I got this job because I’m good at it.”

“No one is claiming you aren’t. We know you’re good. Didn’t my quote say as much?”

“People reading this article aren’t going to be thinking about that. They’re going to read this and say, She got the job because she’s a woman. When the God’s honest truth is I probably had to work ten times harder to get it because I don’t have a cock.”

She stopped speaking instantly and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t get shy now,” Tucker said. “It’s not like I’ve never heard the word before. And for the record, having a cock is usually pretty detrimental to all those of us who do have them. Little prick does all the thinking for us sometimes.”

That made her smile, and Tucker caught his wording too late. “When I say little prick…”

Emmy held up her hand. “Your masculinity doesn’t need to be defended, I promise.”

“Good.”

Emmy looked down at the completely crumpled paper in her hand. “He trivialized me,” she said after a moment. “He just talked endlessly about what a great role model I am, but he said it like only little girls should look up at me. I didn’t have any women to model my career after. I…” She plopped back down on the bench. “I’m not trying to break some sort of invisible gender barrier, you know?”

“No?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to be a part of a game I love.”

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