her, wrapped in a towel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Hard not to, in my tiny palace, even with the water running.” She had the laminated press pass in her hand. “You left this in the bathroom. No matter how you got here, you’re here.”
The pass dangled between them. Hara finally took it. “I want to go, to be all tough and say screw it, I’m going to get something out of this while I’m here. And Derek can go to hell.”
“You mean O’Donnell?”
“Yeah. Him, too.” She sank onto the sofa, her chin in her hand, her voice softer. “But another part of me is so embarrassed. O’Donnell thinks I’m some kind of blackmailing fraud, and so does Derek. I’m sure he’ll say something to Charles. I cannot bear it, them thinking of me that way. I want to explode with shame. Having to see them will send me into seizures.”
“Or you could cover the game, get your stories out there, keep working on your craft. Prove them wrong over time. Success is the best revenge, right?”
“I know. I agree. I am going to go, do what I can, use the opportunity to work on my portfolio.” But what if she really didn’t have the talent? She didn’t know anymore. “It’s so not fair. I’ve always worked my ass off. And I’ve always tried to follow the rules, to do things ethically, so no one could put me in the same category as my father.” She shook her head and repeated what was looping in her head: “It’s so not fair.”
“Quite a pair, ain’t we?” Naomi folded her arms. “But you still goin’, even if I have to drag you.”
Hara, on the verge of tears, laughed instead. The girl in front of her weighed all of 120 pounds, and most of that was hair. “I thought you weren’t going to the game.”
Naomi shrugged. “Nah, boo, not unless you make me.” She turned to go back into the bathroom. “No offense, but I could use some alone time.”
* * *
The Fishers’ empty training room smelled of Lysol, rubber, and old sweat. Derek’s breath swooshed out as he pushed up the weight bar, though the load was light.
“Whatcha doin’, Darcy? I don’t want you hurting yourself right before the game,” said the coach.
The young player hefted the bar onto the stand and slid out from under it, then stood. “I’m being careful, promise. Just wanted to get my warm-up started.”
“That’s not—” the coach started to say, but then O’Donnell stepped into the room and cut him off.
“Happy to see it, m’ boy.” He slapped Derek on his bare shoulder, leaving a red mark.
Derek kept his face blank but karma had his back: O’Donnell realized he had sweat on his hand and mewled in displeasure. The owner swiped his palm back and forth on his pants, almost hard enough to create a friction fire. A liar’s pants actually catching fire—that would be something to see.
Derek could not get over the fact that this supposed leader of the community knew about the college rules that Charles’s family had broken and completely looked the other way. It’s not that he wanted to see Charles in trouble, but right was right. His best friend and his boss were …
Not your problem, remember? No distractions. He just needed to get out on that court and focus.
Besides, what was he going to do? Rat out Ms. Butler so she lost her house? And if the association found out, O’Donnell would have to kick Charles out. He’d suffer, the team would suffer, and then Derek would suffer. Get off your fucking high horse, man!
He wiped the sweat off his face as his teammates began to file in; the coach and owner moved around the room, talking to players. But O’Donnell returned, alone, a minute later. His old-man eyebrows writhed like caterpillars over his squinty eyes.
“Darcy, I spoke with Charles. It sounds like you and I need to have a little chat. Meet me in the owner’s suite after the game.”
He marched away before Derek could respond.
What had Charles done?
* * *
Hara called Carter, checking in and telling him about the opportunity to go to another game. He encouraged her to go, and even offered to send a car to pick her up. She texted her mother, saying she’d be home tomorrow and she was going to another game that night. That should hold Mom over. She’d think Hara was hooking up with athletes. The reporter could only