Reese had brought enough of it to their team already. This only brightened that spotlight.
“Ryder, what do you think about Reese dating Lennox Murry?” a reporter asked the quarterback as he left Lucy’s with Greer on his arm. There was a small crowd surrounding him, and he’d made the mistake of stopping for a few fans seeking an autograph. The second the question got asked, Ryder’s wide, happy smile at the fans fell from his face. He looked right into the camera, mouth tense, and shook his head. “I got zero opinion on that.”
Reese sat up straight, scrambling for her phone when it rang, the sound of it a shrill, loud ring that she wasn’t used to. Who calls anymore anyway?
Gia’s picture flashed across the screen and Reese lowered her shoulders. This would not be pretty, and it made no sense to decline the call. If Gia wanted to speak to you, she did.
“Hello?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The manager’s voice was loud and livid. The question screeched in Reese’s ear, and she sat the phone in her cup holder, hitting the speaker icon.
“Gia…”
“Don’t you even try it, Noble. My God, do you know the shit storm this is going to cause? For fuck’s sake, Ricks is in a meeting with the owners right now to discuss ‘interpersonal team affiliations’ all because you and Ryder used to…to be…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Reese told her, moving her seat up. She didn’t need someone who knew nothing about her or Ryder to fill in the blanks. “I lied to you, be pissed about that. But don’t make assumptions about me and the relationships I’ve had.”
Gia’s laugh held no humor, and Reese could make out the clip of her heels on a floor and the slam of a door before she calmed herself enough to reply. “I will if they concern my teammates.”
“No, you won’t, and don’t think you’ll get answers about what happened in the past.”
“I’m entitled to know…”
“No, Gia, you’re not.” The words came out raised, so loud, in fact, that the couple from 2-E, walking to their car, stopped to stare at her as they walked past her Challenger. Reese ignored them, inhaling to calm herself before she continued, her voice softer, but not calm.
“What happened at Duke is in the past. It doesn’t reflect on the way I play or the life I lead now.” That was only partially true. She could focus when she needed to. She could perform, but her life off the field was mostly empty. Reese simply never wanted to be invested anymore. Friends. Lovers. Other than her family, she chose to keep things friendly, but not close.
“If the owners are worried about interpersonal whatsits on the team, then tell them to handle Hanson and realize I’m not going anywhere, and Ryder won’t say a word about what happened in Durham.”
“You need to explain this…”
“No,” she said, her voice sharp. “I don’t and I won’t.”
Then Reese disconnected the call and powered off her phone.
15.
REESE
Game Four, Regular Season
STATS: 3:0
REESE HAD a feeling it was going to be a bad day.
The rain began on Thursday, and by Saturday afternoon there were questions about playing in the stadium. It was enclosed, comfortable, but had suffered major damage during Katrina and hadn’t quite been right since, despite the extensive repairs. Reese hadn’t wanted to play for fear that fans would venture out that Sunday amid the flooded streets and downed power lines just to watch the Steamers fail at trouncing New England.
By half-time, no one was speaking to each other except Ricks, and that was only to scream at Wilson and Pérez for their lackluster performances.
“Keep your eye on the target, you bastards, or you may as well sit your ass on the field shooting selfies, pretending to be real damn professionals.”
The mood only got marginally better when Ryder shot a third and final touchdown pass that normally required Reese on the field. But Ricks hadn’t wanted any chances at losing and had opted for two-point conversions over having her kicking. From the frown and head shake he’d sent her way when Ryder first scored, she understood that Coach was probably pissed at her for the pictures and the damn gossip.
A look over her shoulder and Reese caught Gia’s stony-faced expression, how the woman wore pitch black shades inside the stadium and utterly ignored the kicker all together. She hadn’t returned Reese’s emails or texts, and Cat confided that Gia had kept herself behind her office door all week.