Page 4 of Keeping the Single Dad
Shit. What was she writing?
“It’s been an interesting couple of years. Calverdale Ladies made it into the Women’s Super League, but it’s been a battle to stay on top.”
I smiled. Good. Let’s focus on football. The only part that matters. “We’ve had a great season. We’re playing against world class players and—”
?“There are rumors of a rift with Skylar Marshall? You were captain while she played in the US, and now you’ve had to step down.” Karen inched the recording device across the table, and her smile spread wider. “That must sting?”
I fought to keep my face level, but a heavy feeling gnawed at my gut. I'd let my best friend down so badly. I’d broken girl-code by kissing her ex. She said she’d forgiven me, but we’d hardly hung out since she’d returned from playing in LA. I’d been an idiot for getting sucked in by Sean Wallace. I wanted to do better. The last thing I needed was an article dredging shit up about us. As for the captaincy, Skylar was welcome to it. Unlike my friend, I’d never wanted to be a leader. Too much responsibility. I just wanted to go out on the pitch and have fun.?
“Skylar Marshall is not only my friend but one of the greatest footballers I’ve ever known. As my captain, she has nothing but my respect and support.”
“It can’t be easy to pass the baton back?”
“Easy as pie. We have some amazing matches ahead of us—”
“How is your father?”
My smile faltered. “What?”
“The papers used to call Logan Sinclair the bad-boy of football. Some people say the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. You’ve got a reputation for being a wild child. How do you feel about that?”
Some people.
People like you, who can’t mind their own business.
Anger twisted in my gut. It didn’t matter how much Dad had changed; the press had dogged him his whole life. Sure, he’d had a slip last night, but we’d work through it. All anyone wanted to talk about was the excess. Nobody wanted to talk about how much work he’d done to improve himself.
“People can call me whatever they want. All that matters is what I do on the pitch. My private life is private. As is my father’s.”?
Karen’s smile widened, and she scribbled in the pad again. Nerves erupted in my stomach. What was she writing? Had I sounded too arrogant? Screw it. I had to be truthful. Authenticity was the only way. I tried to adjust my smile.
Keep your friends close and bitchy gossip columnists closer.
Chatter and tinkling silverware filled my ears.
Karen smiled, blandly. “Some photos have come to my attention. Your father appears to be going through a… difficult time. It would be terrible if one of our competitors got hold of a story like that. You know what the gutter press is like.”
A shiver crept across my shoulder blades. “What are you talking about?”
Karen tilted her head and studied my face. “Last night? Reports suggest Logan wound up in hospital after an all-night drinking session. We’ve got pictures of him urinating in an alley and ranting in a pub.”
My heart pounded. I took deep breaths, the way Skylar’s psychologist fiancé had shown me. Reece had been helping me to work on my temper. Punching this woman would feel incredible at this moment, and then I’d regret it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dad is fine.”
Karen gave an exaggerated sigh and picked up the recording device. She clicked it off and put it in her briefcase.
“Look, I’ll level with you, off the record. This is a tough break. I don’t want to do this to you.” She tapped a sharp crimson fingernail on the table and lowered her voice. “Women in sport should be celebrated, not torn apart for a bad outfit choice. Celebrity is tawdry, I’m afraid. Your Dad is a sporting hero and the only thing the British public love more than tearing a woman apart is watching a hero fall. It’s all passé and predictable.”
Karen inclined her head, a watchful intensity in her expression. “I have to turn in a story by the end of the week. Perhaps you have something more interesting for me? Maybe you overhear things in the locker room. I’d rather write about a current football star than a has-been.” Her face brightened as though she was doing me a huge favor. “No offense.”
Ice circled my mouth. What the hell was this? She wanted me to sell-out another player to save my dad’s neck? No way. She was messing with the wrong girl if she thought I was a snitch.
I folded my arms. “I’d never sell out a single one of those girls. The team is my family.”
“You misunderstand. I don’t care about the women’s team. The women’s team don't sell papers.” Still smiling, her rapier glance passed over me. She leaned in, her voice a low whisper. “I’m only interested in the men’s team.”
It didn’t matter if it was the women’s or the men’s team. We were all footballers playing for Calverdale. I was friendly with most of the guys on the team. Hell, I’d hooked up with most of them. I wouldn’t sell them out.
