Page 46

Chapter 46

Photoshoot

Robyn

F or the first time since the three of us decided to be in a secret relationship, we spent the night apart. I left for New York in my Jeep right after practice on Wednesday so I could spend the night in the city (thankfully on Adidas’ dime, because dang that hotel was fancy). The guys called me on the drive, and we talked the whole way. The best part was finding snacks Isaiah had hidden for me in my center console.

Then, because he had been snooping—I mean, it’s Isaiah —he mentioned my complete lack of emergency roadside gear and told me he’d be giving me flares and whatnot when I got back. I acted like he was weird, but I actually swooned a little.

He’s so protective.

It’s been raining all morning, but the gloomy weather can’t keep me down. I want to keep the promise I made to my guys: I won’t hide my shoulders. I’ll be proud of them and show them off. The thing is, most days I am secure in my body. I am proud of what it can do and how I’ve built it, but there are just times when I can’t love it. I can’t even like it.

But today is not that day!

The driver Adidas sent for me tucks me under an umbrella, and all my belongings are brought inside the high-end highrise.

“Ms. Cassidy, welcome,” a short, sophisticated Black man with a sharp haircut and a pristine, all-black suit says. He holds out his hand, and I shake it way too eagerly.

“Thank you. Hello.”

“My name is Xavier, your photographer Ingrid Harper-Tate’s assistant.”

“Oh yes,” I beam, and for some reason I decide to hug him. “I remember emailing you.”

“That’s right,” he says with an unsteady tone and a tense hold before I let go. “If you would, please follow me. All your belongings will be waiting for you in the studio.”

“Oh, um, actually I’m supposed to wait for my…” I trail off, unsure if I should reveal that a professional rugby player is waiting for her mommy.

“Your agent Diedra? She’s already here,” Xavier says crisply, and gestures for me to follow him.

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. Sure. Let’s go with ‘agent.’

Xavier takes us to the thirty-first floor, and when the doors open, the whole place comes into view. There are floor-to-ceiling windows giving us a three hundred and sixty degree view of the city, and evenly separated columns throughout the space. There are a few doors next to the elevator bank, which I assume are dressing rooms. A few work tables filled with shoes and accessories are near a large white backdrop.

Keep your shit together, Robyn. Act like you’ve done this before. I have done photo shoots for the team and stuff, but nothing of this magnitude.

A server immediately takes my drink order for a coconut water before Xavier takes me to meet Ingrid. I spot my mom’s same tawny hair amongst the small crew, already talking to someone.

One more deep breath in, and here we go.

“Robyn,” the woman I know as Ingrid Harper-Tate, based on my search history, trills, extending both arms out wide as people move out of her way. I think she’s going in for a hug, but instead she places her hands gently on my arms and gives me two air kisses on either side of my face. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she remarks in a posh British accent. There’s a small curl to her deep purple lips. Her snow-white hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her smooth, ivory skin is flawless. She’s wearing enormous black cargo pants that swallow her and a tailored black vest. I look around the room and notice everyone in the crew is wearing black.

“You already look splendid, my dear, so our team will barely need to touch you. Doesn’t she look gorgeous , Marguerite?” she asks the woman next to us, spinning me around.

Void of any emotion, Marguerite replies, “Gorgeous,” after looking me up and down.

I like these people; I don’t care if they’re fluffing me, because it’s working.

“Birdie,” my mom coos, coming up to me and wrapping me in a hug. As much as our last call got to me, it is always nice to be wrapped in her arms. For all the annoying things she’s capable of, there are far more good things about her. Her very real, very genuine hugs are one of them.

“Hi, Mom,” I sigh, and my chin falls to her shoulder. Oops. Forgot about the ‘mom’ thing already.

“Oh, this is your mother?” Ingrid asks as we pull apart. “Oh yes, I most definitely see the resemblance now. Aren't they stunning, Marguerite?”

“Stunning.”

I mean sure, we share the same hair color, eyes, and nose, but I tower over my mom by five inches and have about sixty pounds more muscle than she does.

My mother blushes and waves away the compliment. “You’re too kind.”

“Diedra,” Ingrid says. “Have you been offered anything to drink yet? Oh, Xavier, please escort our guest here to the break area for some refreshments, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Xavier says with a smile, and leads my fidgeting mom across the room.

Ingrid arches an eyebrow and leans toward me. “Your mother was just telling us about your shoulders, ” she says, dramatically drawing out the last word as her eyes round, like she’s trying to gather my reaction.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “She has this thing about how big they are.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no, not really. This is just what I’m working with.” I shrug and throw my hands out to the sides, accidentally smacking the server bringing my drink.

“I’m so sorry,” I grimace. Thankfully the bottle is capped, and I’m able to catch it before it drops to the floor.

“It’s okay, miss. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay. Sorry again.”

“Oh, don't worry about Esther,” Ingrid says with a flick of her dainty wrist. “She plays roller derby, she can handle it. Now tell me, truly, Robyn. Do you have any reservations about your shoulders or any part of your body that I should be aware of today?”

The easy thing to tell her would be to avoid my shoulders looking so big, just like mom wants. But Dell’s words ring back to me.

You don’t hide your body for anyone.

He’s right, I think to myself, determination locking into place. That whole evening flashes behind my eyes and the way each of them worshiped and reminded me just how incredible I am. And if I am, I need to act like it. I am not going to hide.

“No,” I tell Ingrid, feeling resolute. “Feed your camera whatever you want.”

“Splendid, dear. Now, how do you feel about nudity?”

Suddenly my mouth goes dry. “Uhh… ”

“Oh, no, no, darling, I’m only joking. No, never. All right now, Marguerite will take you to your private dressing room, then Monica and Quillian will be in shortly after for makeup and hair. Any questions?”

Relieved nudity is definitely off the table, I exhale forcefully and shake my head. “No. Let’s do this.”

Three hours and four outfit changes later, my stomach growls as I pose wearing next season’s orange track suit and matching sports bra. Even with music playing in the background, the entire crew can hear it.

Are they going to feed me? Oh, god, I’m not cut out for this model life. Like a baby, I need to eat every couple hours, and I’m sorry, but the eggs benedict, strawberry smoothie, greek yogurt, and hashbrowns just weren't enough this morning.

Miraculously, as I turn into another pose, I catch several carts of food being wheeled in, and my tense cheeks relax. I don’t care if that food isn’t for me, it will be .

“Beautiful,” Ingrid says from behind her lens as she crouches to capture an up-angle. Like a stage mom from one of those crazy children’s pageant shows, my “agent” stands behind the crew but always in my line of sight, making sure I position myself the way she wants. I mostly ignore her, but throw her a bone once in a while.

Ingrid takes a few more clicks and looks at her camera screen. With a pleased nod, she stands. “So much to work with,” she says to herself before addressing me. “You’re a natural, Robyn. All right, take your… agent, and go have lunch before everyone else.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, my voice an octave too low. “Should I…” I trail off and gesture to my outfit.

“We’re done with it, so you can keep it on if you’d like. It’s yours by the way. Everything you wear here today is yours to take home.”

“Ohmygod thank you,” I giggle because, as I am proving, I’m a total professional and can keep my shit together.

When we sit at one of the tables with our food, she wastes no time and cuts to it. “Birdie, be careful how much you eat, you don’t want to look bloated.”

“Mom, I’m starving,” I say around a mouthful of sandwich. There’s no way I’m letting this woman make me feel bad for what I’m about to eat.

Placing her fork on the table, she shakes her head and reaches for her large purse on the ground. “Fine. At least I planned ahead and brought you a toothbrush.” While she fiddles in her bag I get lost in my food.

Suddenly, her quiet but harsh tone comes out. “Robyn. Eleanor. Cassidy.” Immediately my heart stops because she just pulled out my middle name, and that means business. She’s looking at her phone with flames in her eyes and her jaw clenches. “Care to explain this?”

Taking her phone, I press play on the social media video but not before my gut drops. It’s clearly footage from a Ring camera of a beautiful front porch. A familiar front porch.

The front porch of our rental vacation house in the Outer Banks.

The front porch where I stand with Isaiah, his suitcase sitting next to him.

The front porch where he looks around before pressing me against the post and kisses me.

It’s a video from ChadSports, a creator I’ve seen before who reports on sports news. He’s never been a fan of mine. I’ve never seen him speak nicely about any female athletes for that matter.

The video was posted forty-five minutes ago and there’s over one hundred thousand likes. Eight thousand comments. Six thousand shares.

I can’t breathe.

“Don’t know who that man kissing female Olympic rugby player, Robyn Cassidy, is?” Chad asks. “That’s Isaiah Johanssen. Head Coach Isaiah Johanssen for the women’s USA Valor. Robyn’s coach,” he clarifies, and his condescending gotcha tone wraps around me like a blanket of thorns.

“Seems the two of them spent some alone time recently. And if you’re wondering, can players and coaches date?” A screen grab of an email pops up behind his talking head and he continues, “The answer, directly from the offices of the USA Valor, say No. ”

Oh god, I’m fully dead.

“Since Coach Johanssen took over this summer, they’ve lost every game.”

“That’s not fair, it’s only been two games!” I interrupt, like he can hear me.

“Clearly fucking your coach isn’t gonna help put the points on the board, eh, Robyn?” he laughs. “I’ll be posting more on this as it comes out, so follow me for more.”

With violently shaking hands, I fumble with the phone and shut it off before I toss it on the table and run to my dressing room where my own phone awaits. My mom’s voice is muffled through my panicked sprint, but before I get there, I notice everyone in the crew looking at their phones. Some of them have their mouths covered. People are leaning over to the person next to them and whispering. Eyes are tracking me.

Shit!

Whipping open the door, my phone lays on the vanity next to makeup brushes and hair styling tools and I grab it.

Twenty eight missed calls. Seventy one text messages. Thousands of notifications. Before I can even unlock it, a call from Dell comes in, and my knees buckle before hitting the floor.

“Dell,” I exhale, my voice too high, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Baby!” he shouts on an exhale. “Did you see what’s happening?”

“Yes. What… How?”

“Zay has been called into the Valor offices, and he’s on his way there right now.”

“Oh god,” I huff.

“Get up,” Mom’s hisses from behind me, but she gets in front of me. “Who are you talking to? You need to keep quiet about this, Birdie. Say nothing until we talk to your team’s PR.”

“Is that your mom?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“She’s right, baby. Say nothing until a plan has been put in place.”

Tears finally form and I choke on them. “I’m scared.”

“How could you do this to us?” Mom asks, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such disgust on her face—not about me.

“But Mom, it’s Isaiah,” I plead, as if she remembers my good college friend who played for another school. I guess it’s my fault she’s looking at me like she has no idea what I’m talking about—it’s not like I told her much about him. We’ve never really had that kind of relationship where I gushed about boys. My parents’ focus was always on my athletic ability.

My dad’s voice circles through my head.

What happened at practice?

There’s a training camp in Colorado you should attend.

Your stiff arm is getting better.

Did you see France’s flanker make that breakaway? That’s how quick you need to be!

You need to make our mistake worth it.

“I don’t care who he is,” she says, her jaw so tight I can hear her teeth grind. “He’s just a man . He’s not fit to be your coach, and if the Valor have any ethics, whatsoever, they’ll fire him immediately.”

“But Mom—”

“No. You are not to speak to him.”

“You cannot tell me who I can love, Mom. I’m a grown woman.”

“Love?” she asks, her eyes wide as saucers. An unnerving stillness settles over her. “This isn’t love, Birdie. This was just a little fling that will end the way all your relationships have ended. Quickly. Your focus is rugby. Your focus is your brand.”

“I’m gonna kill your mom,” Dell mutters in my ear, followed by the chime of a call on the other line—a call from the Director of Human Resources for the team.

Fuck.

“I have to go,” I say to Dell, careful not to say his name in front of Mom. “HR is calling.”

“I love you, darling. Call me as soon as you can.”

“I will,” I say with an exhale, hoping he knows why I can’t say it back.

I switch over the call, and somehow manage to stand up. The door to the dressing room is closed, so I switch to speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Robyn? This is Dan West with HR. I have Coach Johanssen in the office with me right now. Are you aware of the video footage of you and him circling the internet?”

I look at my mom and she nods curtly.

“Yes,” I admit, and take a seat on the couch.

“How soon can you come into the facility to talk with us?”

“Uh, I’m in New York at the Adidas shoot,” I say as my entire body trembles. “We still have three more hours to go.”

There’s a disgruntled sigh on his end before he says, “Then I’ll make this fast. Isaiah, Robyn, effective immediately, you are both suspended with pay pending further investigation.”

“What?” I ask. “But it was just a kiss!”

“I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be. You will not have the ability to speak with the team’s Public Relations until you are in good standing with the team again. I would advise you to hire your own. Do you have any questions?”

“What about the game next weekend?” I ask. “Am I allowed to attend?”

“You are both allowed to attend, but not as an active player or coach. Only if the investigation results in your favor may you participate once again.”

“I’m so sorry, Robyn,” Isaiah says, and without even seeing him, I know he’s doing his best to remain strong, but he’s falling apart too.

“Me, too.”

Plastering on a futile smile, I power through the rest of the photoshoot knowing full well that everyone here knows what happened. To my relief, no one brings it up to me, but that doesn’t stop me from being a knotted, anxious mess. I have too many unanswered questions flying around in my brain.

I can’t get out of here fast enough. All I want is to go home and run into the arms of the two people most capable of soothing my worries.

Taking my photoshoot makeup off is the least of my priorities, so I stuff everything in my bag and head for the elevators. Right when the doors open, my mom makes her way in next to me.

“I’m coming home with you,” she says definitively as the doors close.

“Wh–why? ”

“Because you’re in no shape to drive like this.”

She’s not wrong, but even more unease settles in my gut at the thought of her taking up more of my time when I could be wrapped in a cocoon of Isaiah and Dell.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. You need to catch your flight anyway.”

“I will reschedule. Your father has already booked a ticket to Philly and will land tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

When she looks at me, all traces of her disgust from earlier are gone, replaced with soft, soothing eyes, which throws me for a loop. I can’t keep up with her mood swings. I can barely keep up with my own emotional load. She gently cups my shoulder. “You need us right now. You need a support system you can trust.”

“I have that. With Isaiah and…” I stop myself from saying Dell’s name. She still doesn’t know about him, and I can’t tell if it’s a good idea or the worst to tell her yet. “Serwaa,” I finish. It’s not a lie. If I didn’t have Isaiah and Dell, Serwaa would be the one to see me through hardship.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Birdie. Just let me drive you home, and when your father gets there in the morning, we will all figure this out then.” When I open my mouth to protest again, she cuts me off. “I know you think he knows you, but no one knows you like your parents. You know we have your best interest at heart,” she smiles.

When the elevator doors open in the lobby, I immediately notice the rain has not let up. And there’s something about the gloomy weather and the childhood comfort my mother is giving that has me agreeing. Whether it comes from reluctance or willingness… I can’t tell.

“Okay,” I sigh, shifting my bag over my shoulder and heading straight to the exit. Mom follows. “But can you promise me we won’t talk on the drive? I need to be alone with my thoughts right now.”

“Of course,” she beams, and I can’t help but wonder where her change in mood is coming from. Did she really have a change of heart? Doubtful. Maybe she’s simply trying to ease the tension. I don’t know and honestly, I don’t care right now. I want to hide away and delete my accounts. Delete my career. Delete.

As much as I want to turn my phone off completely, I have to give the guys an update, so I shoot off a text once Mom and I are underway. Before I can send my first message, Isaiah calls, but I send the call to voicemail.

Isaiah: Hey I was trying to call so we could talk while you drive. I know you’re probably feeling a million things right now.

Robyn: How’d you know I was on the road?

Dell: Let’s not pretend Isaiah doesn’t track your location.

Isaiah: You are too!

Robyn: Sorry, I can’t talk right now. Mom is driving me home face palm emoji and Dad’s on his way too

Dell: Why? I really think we should all be together tonight.

Robyn: idk why. I’m so confused and scared right now… I have no idea what the right thing to do is. I didn’t want to let her down. I don’t want to let you guys down either.

Dell: It’s ok darlin. Can we come over when you get home anyway?

Robyn: Idk if that’s a good idea. She doesn’t know about you yet. Should we just throw it in her face?

Robyn: God I want to. But at the same time, maybe we just need this time apart and regroup tomorrow.

Isaiah: I hate that idea.

Dell: Me too.

Robyn: Me three. But maybe I can take this time to butter her up (and my dad) before any plans are made. She was so mad when she found out.

Dell: Are you sure you don’t want us there to help?

Robyn: I think it’s best if I do this myself. I know how they operate.

Isaiah: Will you call us when you go to bed? I’d like to fall asleep with you in one way or another.

Robyn: Of course hug emoji

Dell: We’re going to figure this out guys. Love always wins.

I hope with everything that I have that he’s right—but hope is not always enough to quell the dread.