Dirty Baller: A Secret Baby Sports Romance by Vesper Vaughn Page B

worth it.
    I’m just waiting for the call. The call that will tell me my career is over, that I’m fired, that I’ll never work again in journalism.
    My phone rings and I dive to grab it off the mattress.
    I hold my breath when I see who it is.
    It’s Sandra.
    Sandra is calling me to fire me. She’s seen the photos.
    It’s all over.
    Everything I’ve worked so hard for.
    I’m losing my job because I’m fucking a football star.
    “Hello,” I say tentatively.
    “Childs, I saw the photos,” Sandra says, getting right to the point.
    “Right,” I reply. “I’m so sorry. We were just at dinner together and I was interviewing him and-“
    “And he puts his arm around you because you’re interviewing him? That’s all you’re doing? Tell me the truth.”
    I pause. “Alright. It’s a little more than that between us. We…we were sort of on a date.”
    Sandra is quiet. I hear her take a sip from her coffee mug and I just wait for the deluge to begin. “You’re fucking one of your subjects for this article?”
    I choke on the word. “Yes.”
    “You’re fucking the most scandalous footballer in all of England. Is that right?”
    “Yes and I realize that I’ve lost my journalistic integrity, and I’m prepared to accept the consequences of that.”
    Sandra takes a deep breath and I cringe. “You think I care about journalistic integrity?” Sandra sighs. “If I cared about journalistic integrity, I’d be living in a run-down Florida retirement home while my investment broker runs a Ponzi scheme with my meager lifetime earnings. That’s where my colleagues who grew up in the era of journalistic integrity are right now. No. Fuck journalistic integrity. This is the age of flash and glamour and scandal. This is why I’m still alive in this industry. I follow the smut. The dirt. The sex. I want juicy. I want a meaty story that is so filthy it goes viral. I don’t care if you have to take him to an S & M club, Childs. Get the story.”
    I’m stunned. “Sorry, so you don’t care that people will think that we’re dating? You don’t care that my name will be on the byline?”
    “Get in there, Childs, and really get your fingers on the pulse of all of this. Go for blood. He’s the dirtiest player in the entire league. You need to figure him out. Write about it. I don’t want this boring shit about how the game is played. Our readers already know.”
    “Sorry, you want me to write about Ryan instead of the team?”
    “Our readers want gossip. If you don’t get this done, I’m sending Brenda over to do it for you. Do whatever it takes. Get it done.”
    She slams the phone down so hard the click of the receiver echoes around my own hotel room.
    “Well,” I say to my empty room. “At least I wasn’t fired.”
    Not yet anyway , says a voice in my head.
    I shove down my guilt. This is what I’ve been working towards my entire career. A feature piece.
    I just never thought that I’d have to betray someone I care about to do it.
     

CHAPTER TWELVE
    RYAN
    “Already causing trouble, hm?” Ivan says as I walk into the clubhouse before our Sunday match.
    “I’m sorry,” I say earnestly. “He provoked me.”
    “A lot of people seem to provoke you, Mackenzie. I think you should get that reflex examined.”
    I tap my foot on the thick, green carpeting. “Are you kicking me off the team?”
    Ivan laughs. “No. If you’d driven drunk again, yes. But threatening a member of the press? I should give you a medal. Those guys are vultures.”
    “So you’re not firing me?”
    Ivan shakes his head and stands up, clapping a solid hand on my shoulder. “Take that aggression out onto the pitch and we’ll be just fine today.”
    “Thank you,” I say, still stunned.
    “Don’t thank me. Win .”
    And we do.
    We win the match like it’s nothing. Four points to null.
    My eyes immediately go into the stands to look for Hayley. I hop over the barrier to her seat in the second row.
    “Did you see that