Fourth and Long by Britt Belle

Author:Britt Belle [Belle, Britt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Judy and Cam work their collective magic, and twenty-four hours later I find myself in the same room as Annabelle Singer.

Annabelle went from being a sideline guru to the face of sports reporting in about five minutes. She’s ambitious and driven, and she has a reputation for being relentless. She’s also the person to talk to when you want your story heard—like Oprah, but on ESPN. It’s rumored she turns down more interviews than she accepts, so it’s a coup to just sit down with her.

“It’s great to see you,” she says, making a beeline toward me as soon as she walks into the room. I knew her back in my college football days, and fame hasn’t muted her intensity. I resist the urge to step backward. “I was hoping you’d reach out.”

“Didn’t have much choice after your little conversation with Ronnie.”

She grins and pats me on the cheek. The move is too brisk to be patronizing, but I still hate it. “Everyone who is anyone sits down with me at some point,” she says.

She used to interview me all the time on the field, but somehow I’ve escaped this. Until now. “Not everyone has to defend themselves from cheating allegations.”

“If it wasn’t cheating, it’d be something else. No one likes a celebrity without a story. You don’t want to be boring.” She makes boring sound like a grotesque disease.

“I wouldn’t mind being boring.”

She rolls her eyes. “If you’d wanted to be boring, you wouldn’t have become a quarterback.”

My mouth snaps shut. While I didn’t choose the position for fame, I’m aware the two are connected. Just like I’m aware that boring doesn’t sell tickets. When you’re young—I’m talking, like, ten—you imagine fame will get you whatever you want. Like being able to skip the line at Disney World or sit courtside at a basketball game. And those things are part of it. But the advantages don’t always beat the disadvantages. I’ve learned that the hard way.

“Don’t worry. I can’t prove something that isn’t true. If you’re as innocent as you claim, you’ll do fine.” She sashays away without another word.

My nerves ratchet up five minutes later when she settles into her chair. A whole team surrounds her. A short man with a mohawk blankets her with hair spray and fiddles with her already perfect bob while a woman wearing sneakers dabs blush onto her cheeks. I’ve already gotten all the makeup I’ll allow, so they ignore me. Her producer, a man named Cliff whom I met briefly, steps in front of her and begins speaking rapidly.

I hear him say my name as Judy crouches next to me.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer. They have the same list of questions I showed you. Stick to the facts. Stick to the truth. Don’t malign Ronnie. Don’t make accusations. You want to garner sympathy. People like you already—all you have to do is remind them that you’re a good guy.”

I nod. Judy has been chirping at me for the last two hours.

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