Which was almost laughable because why would a nationally recognized TV reporter for ESPN need to tear down a lowly junior sports reporter from the Boston Globe? Talk about petty.
I remembered former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright’s words, that ‘there was a special place in hell for women who tore down other women,’ or words to that effect, and I tried to let the frustration and pain of Annie’s rumor wash over me and through me, knowing karma would have something to say about that in the long run.
It wasn’t easy, by any stretch.
I went back to practice and watched, holding my head up high and taking notes like I belonged there, because fuck it, I really fucking belonged there. I had earned this position and I was going to do it to the best of my abilities until the Boston Globe told me my services were no longer necessary, and if Annie Fucking Ross wanted to get in my way, then so be it.
I heard whispers all throughout practice and heard voices behind me, turned up in my direction. Ugh, this place really was just like high school. On the one hand I wanted to run away and hide, and on the other hand, I knew I had to stand there and pull up my big girl pants and just take it, because rumors like these could not bring me down.
If I had had a third hand with which to do things I would have walked right up to Annie Ross and slapped that smug smile off her face. I just knew it was her. Mainly because I remembered something else. At that summer journalism program at Johns Hopkins University two summers ago, it was Annie Ross who had slept with a professor in order to boost her grades.
I had remembered her boasting about it, but back then I didn’t have the courage to say anything to anyone about it, and I had let the matter drop. Somehow now I wish I hadn’t done so.
She would get what was coming to her, though, I knew that. That knowledge kept me standing there on the sidelines while everyone talked. I wanted to be anywhere else, but this was my job, and I had to watch practice, take notes for my daily column, and interview Drake when practice was done.
After the coaches let everyone out and the players dispersed, taking off their pads and walking back to the locker room to shower and go home, or stayed on and stretched out or played a little catch between friends, Drake jogged over to me.
He was covered in sweat, but the glint in his eyes and the smile on his face that normally came when he was done with practice was nowhere to be found.
“Everyone’s talking,” he said before I even had a chance to open my mouth.
“So I’ve heard.” I was surprised at how tired I sounded, given that Drake was the one who had just run around on a field in full pads for 2 hours.
“Is it true?”
My jaw nearly hit the ground. I actually reached up and checked to make sure it was still attached.
“Did you really sleep with Bill Thompson to get this job?” His voice was laced with disappointment.
Holy shit, Drake believed the rumor. He actually believed I had slept with someone to get this job instead of earning it the right way, with hard work and skillful writing craft honed over years of practice.
I could stand it from the rest of the staff, even the rest of the players, even if the rumor was totally false. I wasn’t here to cover them yet, I was here to focus on Drake Rollins.
But if Drake actually believed those lies Annie was telling about me, I didn’t know what more I could do here.
The tears came quick, and they were sharp. “You actually believe that shit Annie spews?” I choked out, before the tears overwhelmed me, and I ran away, back to my room, as fast as I could, and threw myself on my bed.
CHAPTER 20 - DRAKE
Lily’s reaction to my honest question threw me off, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to chase after her, but something told me I couldn’t do that. Maybe it was everyone standing around watching our little dustup, but something kept me standing there in one place.
I figured she needed her space, so I stayed away from her for a little while. I couldn’t help but keep thinking about her, though. In just a short amount of time, I realized that Lily Pearson had taken up residence in my head. Whenever I thought about something she was always there, and I wanted her to approve of my decisions. I wanted to show her I could be a good enough man to be with her, even when that got tough.
Unfortunately I had problems of my own to deal with. The football side of my life, what should have been the most important thing, really the only thing, I had going on at the time, was not getting any better.
Mike Sampson was still making me look bad in camp. I was getting more balls thrown my way, and I was even catching more and more of them, but still Lance Parker and Mike Sampson had this connection thing going on that I just couldn’t match.