Page 31 of Bride Games

31

P aige barely noticed the striking pink and yellow sunset as she drove home. Annoyed by her vibrating phone which likely contained more hateful comments about her career in sports—especially saying how absolutely dreadful she was at her job. She plucked her cell off the passenger seat and threw the offensive phone in the back as she pushed on the gas pedal. Pulse racing, she shook her head, even though she was alone. Who the hell started this avalanche of awfulness? Paige couldn’t drive home fast enough to do some reconnaissance and see if she could find the offender, or offenders. Jaw set, she pulled into her driveway, not quite sure how she remembered to get there.

Once inside, Paige had barely set her car keys down before immediately reaching for a bottle of wine. No food was necessary. Maybe no glass was necessary. She paced holding the still-corked bottle to her chest as if it would magically make this—all of this—go away. Who would do this to me? And why? Paige racked her brain.

Wineglass in hand, Paige stared out the window at nothing and at no one. Everything seemed a blur. Everything had changed at warp speed, it seemed. Nothing made sense any more. How did my stardom fall this quickly? She drained her wine and poured a fresh glass. I must be methodical about this. Rummaging through her junk drawer, she found a tablet and pen and sat on the couch. Staring at the blank paper, Paige took a long sip of wine before she wrote down potential names of someone—anyone—who might want to destroy her career. Eventually, she came up with:

Trent

Marie

Stan the Man (or Statman, as Zach calls him)

A player

A coach

A fan

Another sideline sports reporter

Anonymous person who hates women in sports

Anonymous woman who had an affair with Trent

Zach

The last one broke her heart. She quickly crossed it out so hard she nearly made a hole in the page. Zach would never, ever do this to me. The others? Quite possibly. Staring at her long list of suspects, Paige’s mouth went dry. It could be any of these. It could be someone local, someone from another state, or another country, for that matter. It’ll be nearly impossible to find the perpetrator unless he or she makes a mistake and shows their hand. She took a deep breath, anger ready to overflow like a boiling pot of water but she did her best to tamp it down. I have to keep my cool and wait. Someone will trip up.

Paige scrolled social media, especially X, where fans on the NFL app and ESPN were trolling her. Some called her every name in the book, said she didn’t belong in sports, and was a disgrace to the profession. The last comment made her eyes tear up. She poured herself a third drink as Zach walked through her door.

“Hey, babe. How’s it going?” He immediately noticed her dour expression. “What’s wrong?”

Paige folded her paper with the list of suspects. She wasn’t ready to show him, nor to admit she made a list. Rolling her eyes, she said, “Everyone hates me. Haven’t you been on social media today?”

“Actually, no. Mr. Hales is sending me to a Sports Hall of Fame event. I had to make some last-minute arrangements.” He stared at her. “Didn’t Mr. Hales ask you to go? ATV 10 has an entire table at the event.”

“Nope. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Mr. Hales certainly didn’t mention it to me.” She quickly wondered if her boss’s name should go on her list. Last year, he was thrilled with her reporting. He wouldn’t do anything to destroy her career and bring the station down too.

Shrugging, Zach said, “Don’t sweat it. Someone probably canceled and they had a limited number of seats. Stan the Man is go—” Zach crossed his arms. “Come to think of it, that is weird, Paige. Why don’t you go in my place?”

She held up her wineglass. “I’m settled in for the night, but have fun.”

“I’d rather stay here with you.” Zach sat beside her on the couch, held her face in his hands, and kissed her. Grinning he said, “You taste like wine.”

She winked. “There’s a good reason for that. What time is the event?”

Zach peered at his watch. “Oh, man, it’s in twenty minutes. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve gotta run.”

“Scoot. I’ll be fine. Really. I’d rather be alone with my brooding thoughts.”

Zach crossed the room toward the door and turned back with a sly grin. “Want some company later?”

“I’ll probably turn in early. See you tomorrow at the station, okay?”

“Whatever you want.” Zach patted the doorframe. “Better eat something with that wine. See you tomorrow.”

The minute Zach left Paige returned to social media. Her stomach churned at every vile comment. She couldn’t decide if she were more angry or sad. Shocked, actually. She was definitely more shocked than anything. I can’t believe I wasn’t invited to a last-minute sports Hall of Fame event. That’s a bad sign. Really bad.

Paige clicked on what was trending on X. To her dismay, #FirePaige was number three. Oh, my God. This is unreal. Bastards. Bitches. She tossed her phone on the couch, stood, and felt woozy. She reached for a chair and wobbled toward the kitchen, deciding to make a small plate of cherry tomatoes, grapes, cheese, and crackers. I’ll get sick if I don’t eat something.

She returned to the couch with her damning phone. She knew she had to get ahead of this before it spiraled more out of control. Checking Facebook and Instagram, she gasped. Her social media was plastered with nasty comments from fans on seemingly every platform. Many called her out as a fraud. Some said she didn’t know anything about football and was a joke. Others told her to give up her fake job.

Eyes filled with tears, Paige angrily swiped at her wet cheeks. I’ve got to calm down. She set her now-empty wineglass down and took deep cleansing breaths. I can’t overreact. It’s probably a troll with multiple online identities living in his mother’s basement trying to discredit me. Maybe he, or she, can tell I’m a Chiefs fan and they prefer another team. Her mind raced. Or it could be someone who doesn’t want women in sports. That’s probably all it is. Hopefully, it’ll blow over in a day or two. I mean, how many people are online at this very moment and reading this crap about me? Popping a cheddar cheese cube in her mouth, she willed herself to stop staring at her screen, if only for a few minutes. Dammit. Just when I started loving my job—and my life again.

Fifteen minutes later, Paige’s cellphone lit up with an ominous text:

I haven’t forgotten about you, Paige. I’m watching your every move.

Paige stiffened. Heart hammering, she got off the couch, and doublechecked the locks on her front and back doors. Satisfied the doors were secure, she shivered and retreated to the sofa. She glared at the screen, as if it were her phone’s fault, wondering what twisted person would do this. Paige adjusted a pillow behind her, and rubbed her forehead to stave off a headache that was bearing down. She took several deep breaths. I’ve got to critically think about who and why someone would attack me so publicly. Could it be someone who dated Zach and noticed our closeness on the field? Someone who hates football, or is it just a stupid random troll who doesn’t have a life or anything better to do? Paige put her head in her hands. How will I ever get to the bottom of this?

Feeling even more forlorn, if possible, Paige couldn’t take her eyes off the exasperating, hate-filled comments. She groaned as she read several hundred more negative posts about her sports acumen—or lack thereof. I wish Zach hadn’t left. He’d help me navigate this ridiculous smear campaign against me. He’d tell me that no one has seen this besides me. Paige didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. People stare at their phones 24/7. I’m sure hundreds, if not thousands of people, have read these scurrilous accusations by now.

Paige set her plate on the ottoman and glanced around her now-darkened living room. I should get some sleep. Mr. Hales wants to meet at 8 o’clock tomorrow morning. Please tell me it’s not about this.