Whistleblower by Lyon Jen

Author:Lyon, Jen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Doss About Publishing
Published: 2023-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

Two games of Whist and six states later, Alex found her patience growing shorter and shorter. Elle seemed to enjoy pressing her buttons, actively looking for ways to try and provoke her, but Catharine’s presence—squeezing her hand, pressing her knee, leaning against her shoulder-to-shoulder—kept her grounded. With the anxiety of the day and the stress of long travel, Alex told herself she was just oversensitive. Exhaustion was closing in on her, and with it, her shortening composure.

“So Alex,” Elle’s blithe singsong warned of an impending jab as she opened another bottle of whisky. South Carolina and Georgia had just been called in quick succession, sending Carlton’s numbers over two hundred. “You are—what—twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

“I’ll be twenty-nine in January—”

“Ah, twenty-nine! Oh, to be your age again,” she shot Catharine a wink, laying down the ace of hearts before resuming. “So at twenty-nine, what do you envision for your life once your football career is over?”

Alex was cautious, aware a trap was lying here somewhere. “I’ve not made any concrete decisions.”

“No, no, of course not. Why would you, when you’ve got quite a—safeguard—to fall back on?” Her eyes shifted to Catharine, who had grown quiet over the last half hour, her attention waning from the conversation as Carlton’s numbers climbed higher. She nor Nathalie appeared to catch the slight, and Elle plowed on before Alex could defend herself. “Mayhap coaching would be an option? Surely there are many youth teams that would benefit from a player with your experience?”

Alex was unable to think straight past Elle’s suggestion she intended to fall back on Catharine. As if she were here for her money. Here for what Catharine could offer her.

“Or perhaps you could look into athletic training? Helping the next generation of stars rise to their full potential.”

“I majored in architectural engineering—I don’t imagine I’ll return to school for kinesiology.”

“An architect? My word. That’s quite a stray from a career in sporting.”

Alex didn’t have a chance to tell her the majority of women on her team held degrees in advanced industries—that they weren’t just dumb jocks who could kick around a ball. Hell, Molly Rodrigues had graduated from law school while playing professional soccer. But Catharine’s phone rang on the coffee table, cutting off the conversation—the jarring peal of an unknown number.

Broken from her stupor, Catharine flicked mute on the TV and collected her phone, checking the clock on mantle. It was almost two in the morning.

“Hello?”

Through the silence of the room the unmistakable tone of Carlton Cleveland’s Southern drawl filtered through the receiver.

“Are you watching this, Catharine?”

Catharine stood abruptly. “Why are you calling me?”

“I told you,” he drew out the words, elongating every vowel, speaking to her as if English was her second language. “I want to know if you are watching?” He was drunk, no question, the derision in his laughter nauseating. “Are you and that little dyke enjoying the show? Have you seen those numbers, Catharine? Do you know what they mean?”

“How did you get this number—?”

“Now you’re japing me, m’dear. I know the woman I married is smarter than that.

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