Page 4 of False Play
This was all to say, I’d done a great job feeding people this bullshit persona, though I was growing tired of it for many reasons I didn’t want to think about or admit to myself.
What was that famous saying? Oh, yes.Ignorance is bliss.
I found joy in not facing the ugly truths.Sue me.
I waved my hand dismissively. “I’ll pay whatever fine they want to give me.”
“This is more than that. Anthony islividwith you right now.”
I grimaced. “Fuck.”
Having the general manager pissed at me wasdangerousterritory.
It didn’t matter if I brought them millions of dollars in revenue every year, or if my stats kept getting better, I still took a big chunk of their payroll. I struggled a lot with the knowledge. I’d only been playing for this team for three years, but I strongly believed Anthony only put up with my shit because I was a big, shiny dollar sign for the organization.
It didn’t matter how much of a well-rounded player I was. All I was good for was putting on a good show. That was the only value I had going for me.
“Yeah,fuckindeed,” she retorted. “You created this mess, and now you have to clean it up, pretty boy. You know how this works.”
“Calling me pretty twice in one day?” I fanned my face with an exhale. “God, Jonesy. You sure know how to make a man blush.” I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back my grin.
She stood abruptly with a clasp of her hands. “Listen, Anderson,” she snapped.Oh, she was pissed alright.“I know you love to be the clown of the team and give everyone thisI’m-cool-as-fuckvibe or whatever.” She accentuated the words with air quotes. “But the fact is this—you fucked up. I don’t know if this is registering in that brain of yours or not, but…” She sighed then nipped her bottom lip for the briefest moment. The movement was so irrationally sensual, I had to urge my body to calm itself down and not do something stupid like reach for her and run my thumb across her lip, followed by my tongue.
Yikes. That thought escalated quickly.
“All I know is you have thirty minutes to figure out how to swallow your pride and change your tune. For the sake of this organization andyourcareer.” She fixed me with a stern stare. “So, what’s it going to be?”
I rubbed the back of my neck in contemplation. How exactly was I supposed to do that? I didn’t play nice with outsiders, especially with guys as shitty as fucking Holt. But the way Kennedy was looking at me, with a fierce determination and anif-you-don’t-cooperate-I-will-murder-you-in-your-sleeplook, had me painfully shoving my pride down my throat.
Swallowing a big, fat rock would have been an easier task, but I still tried, for the sake of the team. For me. Hell, because Kennedy asked me, too.
“Fine,” I groaned. “I’ll play nice.”
“Great.” Her smile was wide, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t fuck it up.”
TWO
KENNEDY
THE DEVIL MAY WORK HARD, BUT I WORKED HARDER.
Post-game interviews were aboutto kick off, and the rush I got every time I stepped into the media room flowed through my veins like lightning, quick and crackling with anticipation.
In here, I wasn’t Kenny, the borderline homeless thirty-two-year-old woman who broke off a three-year engagement. I was Kennedy Jones, Senior PR Specialist, who had—or, well…pretendedto have—her shit together. The woman who was doing everything in her power to show her worth. Because my boss was retiring at the end of the season, and that meant the spot was up for grabs. Since Brad had been working for the organization for over thirty years, the owners had left it up to him to decide who would take over and be the new head of the department. I showed my interest in the position, of course, because it had been my dream ever since I could remember. And that’s why, when the Anderson situation happened, Brad called me into his office and said, “Show me what you got.”
I’d never been so excited in my life. This wasmymoment. Even if my personal life was pure chaos, I wasn’t going to let itmess with my career. This was the one thing I couldactuallycontrol.
Still, impostor syndrome tried its best to creep in, to paralyze me.
As a woman in sports, I often questioned whether I was doing good enough or working hard enough. After everything, would I get the credit I deserved when the time came? People were going to have strong opinions when they inevitably found out I was actively pursuing the PR director role. But I wasn’t going to let the uncertainty of things and people’s opinions bring me down.
The pressure society had placed on women wasn’t going to go away overnight, but I’d fight every day of my life to make it easier for future generations to come. Change took time. I knew that. I also knew I needed to brace for what was to come. I wasn’t going to letanythingget in the way of this.
“Heard you’re pursuing the director position,” Matt Smith, the other Senior PR specialist for the Strikers, said as he stood next to me. “What are you going to do?Flirtyour way right to the top?” His tone was condescending, with a hint of pride. He sure as hell was patting himself on the back for that one.
I wish I could say I was surprised by this reaction, but this was a regular day in the life of a woman working in a male-dominated field. Don’t let people fool you into believing positions such as public relations and marketing in this industry were easier for women to work in. It never mattered what positions we held; the opinions were one in the same.
It didn’t help that Matt and I didn’t get along. He was the type of guy who tried to act allbuddy-likewith someone, only to turn around and stab them in the back with a smile etched on his face. If there was one thing I hated the most, it was hypocrisy. He knew I saw him for who hereallywas, and hedidnotlike that one bit. He’d also been bitter when I got promoted to a senior position a year after I started working for the Strikers and has had it out for me ever since.
