Page 44 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

“Oh God, Sophia,” he says, patting my hand, “you’re good for this old man’s soul. No one, except for my wife, has ever looked at my backside, and she hasn’t done it in thirty years.”

“I’m sure she still does. She’s probably just sneaky about it,” I laugh. “By the way, I didn’t know Liza got fired. That’s not the official story.”

“It never is—”

“So why was she fired?”

“Like I said, I have some ideas, but I don’t speculate, especially when someone’s career might be affected.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t think Seb’s sexist, and you say he didn’t sleep with her, so what are they covering up?”

He pauses as another reporter walks behind us then lowers his voice. “If you’re looking for the real cover-up, you might want to start with the man who hired you.”

“Gary?” I whisper.

“And his son. Lots of talk there.”

“What kind of talk?”

He puts his hand over his mouth and mumbles. “Some staff complaints.”

“Complaints? Like what?” I swivel my head around to make sure no one’s listening.

“The word is a few of the female staff have filed HR complaints that Gentry flirts inappropriately with them. I think he sees the team as a dating service instead of a working, professional office.”

“I could see that,” I say, nodding. “He flirts his ass off with me—sly innuendos, but still completely inappropriate stuff. Are you pursuing that as a story?”

“Maybe,” he says, looking around again. “If you pair it with the Liza stuff, it’s an office culture story. Maybe you can get me some sources and go on-the-record yourself.”

“I think you know I’m paid to do the exact opposite of that—”

“Yeah, I know what you do.” He looks over his glasses at me again. “Look, I like you, Sophia. You seem like a good person, but I’m going to tell you, spinning some product recall is one thing, but spinning this type of behavior is a whole other thing. Once you take that step, I don’t think you’ll ever recover.”

I nod, but can’t seem to come up with a reply. I know Gentry’s a douche, but I didn’t think it went any further than that. Gary certainly didn’t tell me about any official complaints.

“Be careful, Sophia. Gary’s obsessed with protecting his family’s reputation,” Ray says. “And now, if you’re done distracting me, I should start paying attention to the game again before I get fired, too.”

* * *

After I leave Ray, I’m thinking about heading back to the hotel early. My head’s spinning. I need some time alone to sort through all of this. As I’m leaving the press box, I hear Gary’s voice behind me.

“Sophia!” I turn around to see him standing at the door of one of the private luxury suites, motioning me inside. “I have some sponsors I want you to meet.”

That’s the absolute last thing I want to do, but since he’s paying me, I guess I probably should. As I walk into the suite, there are people spread out all over the couches inside the air-conditioned area. Not one of them is watching the game.

“Sophia Banks, this is Matt Lowry—one of the team’s largest sponsors.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lowry,” I say, shaking his hand.

He holds my hand way too long. “It’s my pleasure, Sophia, and please call me Matt.”

Gary hands me a glass of wine. There’s not a chance in hell I’m drinking any of it. I’m sure I’m probably overreacting, but these people are starting to give me the creeps.

“What kind of business are you in?” I say, trying to return Matt’s smile.

“Sophia!” Gary turns to look at me—his eyes indignant. “Matt owns the largest fleet of private jets in Miami. How do you not know who he is?”

“I’m afraid I don’t use private jets much. No offense, Mr. Lowry.”

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