Page 17 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)

Gia

Heavy hitter in entertainment questioned in relation to rape allegations .

Denny Hayes’s turtle-like face leered out of the phone screen at me from where it lay on the kitchen table.

Someone had spoken out about him. Someone was doing something about it, and as I sat beside my cooling coffee going over the article again, all I could think was: why hadn’t I done something too?

Why couldn’t I now?

The thought settled in, bringing with it a combination of terror and joy, like I’d never experienced before.

Four actresses had already come forward to tell their stories of coercion and assault, and the article speculated there may be more allegations in the coming days.

These women were getting justice for something that was taken from them in a vulnerable time, and I could speak up with them.

With growing excitement, I called Lydia to bring her up to speed.

“That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard. You’ll tank your career. Do you like working, Gia? Because if you do this, no one will hire you again. You’ll be serving burgers in a Wendy’s by this time next week.”

“But don’t you think it’s important—”

“It’s important you shut your mouth and do as you’re told. Don’t make this about you. I’ve worked too hard to get you where you are for you to tank the opportunity by crying wolf with the rest of those attention whores.”

Ice slid down my spine as I caught my balance on the table in front of me.

Lydia knew damn well what had happened with Denny. She had been the one to pick me up and put me in the shower after the incident. The one who encouraged me to accept the job I’d ‘earned’ and keep quiet about the audition process.

She’d enabled my abuser, and he’d gone on to hurt others.

“You’re fired.”

The words slid out without much thought, but like the decision to speak out, I had no intention of changing course once they were said.

“You can’t do that.”

“There’s a clause in your contract that states you will act in the interests of your client in all things.

You didn’t act in my interest after I was assaulted.

You didn’t act in my interest when you repeatedly called me stupid and undermined my wishes.

You’ve only done what would further your own career, and that ends here.

I deserve to have someone in my corner that isn’t waiting to put a knife in my back. ”

Without letting her speak, I ended the call and collapsed into a chair.

I’d have to speak to a lawyer and make sure I could legally break the contract we had. Also, a call to HR would be important. I’d have to represent my own interests until I found someone new to work with. There was a lot to do, but I felt lighter than I had since…

Well, since I’d blown up my fake relationship with Weston.

The thought brought a wave of sadness with it, and I swallowed through a sudden thickening in my throat. I’d looked back over our text conversations so many times in the last couple of weeks that I could have recited them verbatim.

I’d watched his last two games in my room, under the covers, like it was a secret no one could know. He hadn’t been playing as well as usual, and the fact that the blame for that lay at my feet too was just another blow.

I was managing to ruin his life even when I wasn’t with him.

A knock at my door shook me out of my miserable thoughts.

I wondered if Lydia had decided to come and berate me in person, but when I looked through the peephole, it was a different brunette glaring back at me.

“I know you’re in there. Let us in.”

I considered ignoring Cami, but the very real fear of her kicking in my door had me opening things up before she got any bright ideas.

“Why are you in your PJs at midday? Go get dressed. You’re coming with us to the ball park.” Cami glanced around the living space, taking in the half-finished projects that littered my coffee table and sofa, and the general state of disarray my entire life was in.

“Nice place.”

I snorted. “Why are you here?”

I’d ended things with Weston weeks ago and left the group chat. It wasn’t right to try to keep his friends after we gave up the charade, so I’d cut ties.

“You’ve been MIA for ages, and Weston’s miserable.

My superior deductive reasoning tells me that one, or both of you have fucked up, and you need some girl time to get your head on straight.

Ridley and Marina are meeting us at the diamond, so chop chop.

Put on clothes you can run in because I’m going to teach you to play God’s game. ”

I wasn’t really in the mood to be social. Or play sports of any kind. But I also wasn’t going to deny Cami when she was in this mood.

“Have you ever thought about running a boot camp?” I grumbled as I slinked into my bedroom and pulled out some of the activewear I’d been allowed to keep from the Elite Mind shoot.

“I have,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and watching as I slid into a pair of black sweat pants. “But I’m thinking about teaching men to pitch properly instead. It’ll be so much more satisfying watching them break.”

I chuckled at her wicked grin and rifled through my closet for some running shoes.

“You don’t have to talk about what happened if you don’t want to, but we’re all here for you if you need to get it out.”

Cami’s face was softer than I’d ever seen it, and the compassion threatened to break down the walls I’d built. Before I could respond, she straightened and took a step backward.

“Full disclosure, I can only speak for me and Ridley. Marina will absolutely get you to talk.”

“Duly noted.” I finished getting ready and headed out the door with Cami a few minutes later, sliding into the passenger seat of her car with a sigh.

“I thought you guys wouldn’t want me around if Weston and I weren’t a thing,” I admitted as she pulled into traffic.

“Babe, that’s the first dumb thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

The welcome was warm when we walked onto the baseball diamond in a park close to where Weston and Marina lived. Even Zara and Amber took a break from perusing the picnic basket someone had brought to come and say hello.

“Have you ever played baseball before?” Zara asked eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. “Aunt Cami is kickass. She’s a better pitcher than any of the players in the men’s league.”

“It’s true, but don’t say kickass. Your father will kill us if you use language like that around him,” Marina admonished with a gentle smile.

I looked around the diamond, which was muddy from the rain overnight, and back at the women who were laughing and warming up like it wasn’t a miracle we weren’t standing knee deep in snow.

“You couldn’t have staged this intervention in a nice warm cafe, or at least somewhere we won’t end up covered in mud?” I asked, only half joking.

“It's ok. Mum says life is messy, but it's better to have to take a bath than miss out on the experience for a silly thing like staying clean,” Amber said, giving me a toothy grin before running off after Zara like she hadn’t just dropped a philosophical bomb on my head.

Had I been keeping myself on the sidelines to avoid getting messy?

“I need to talk to Weston,” I muttered.

“Later. For now, let’s play ball.” Cami practically danced onto the field and headed straight for the pitcher’s mound.

Over the next two hours I learned several things.

I couldn’t hit a ball to save my life.

Cami was scary competitive, and didn’t understand the meaning of a friendly match.

And these women had decided I was their friend regardless of how things stood with Weston.

After begging off a third game, I took a seat on the grass in the outfield. My ass was already covered in mud and numb from the cold, so I didn’t feel particularly bothered about ruining my clothing at this point. After a moment, Marina wandered over and dropped down beside me.

“Cami warned me you’d find an opportunity to talk.”

Marina huffed a laugh, but kept quiet as we watched Cami run the girls through a pitching drill.

“She’s really good with them,” I observed as Amber cocked her arm and mimed a pitch.

“She wasn’t always that good. When the girls were younger and Cami came to visit, before she moved here to help Christian, she acted like the kids were diseased.

It was pretty funny, actually. You might have noticed that Cami can be an acquired taste.

She had a pretty rough time through college.

It wasn’t until she moved to Chicago that she started to open up to the idea that she didn’t have to fight everything. ”

“She’s so tough. I’d love to be as strong as her.”

Marina chuckled. “You are. Just, in a different way. Strength comes in different forms for everyone. It doesn’t make you more, or less than, just uniquely you.” Her mouth quirked in a small smile.

“If I hadn’t known Amber was your daughter, the philosophical shit would be a dead giveaway.”

We fell into a comfortable silence as Zara pitched the ball and it landed perfectly in Cami’s mit behind home plate. Both girls screamed in excitement as Cami cheered.

“It wasn’t real.”

Marina stayed silent; her eyes focused on the celebrations across the field.

“The relationship between me and Weston. He saved me from an uncomfortable situation and it kind of snowballed from there.”

“He does have a bit of a hero complex,” Marina agreed.

“It got out of hand. I mean… I didn’t even know who he was at first. And when I found out, I immediately used it for my own benefit.”

The story poured out in stops and starts. My proposal and Weston’s acceptance. How we deceived friends and family, and how it ultimately came apart.

When I was finished, I felt exhausted.

“Have you ever spoken to anyone about your family?” she asked eventually.

“I complain about them all the time. No one ever listens.”

She finally glanced over, a warmth in her eyes that I didn’t expect after having aired all my dirty laundry. “I mean, someone professional.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be locked up if someone started digging around in my head,” I joked, but she just watched me quietly for another long moment.

“I guess I didn’t ever think it was something worth getting into therapy for. Who wants to listen to me whine about my shitty family when there are people out there who really need help?”

“Everyone deserves to feel heard. Whether that’s by friends, family, or a professional depends on their circle. Forgive me for saying so, but it sounds like you haven’t had a whole lot of people to rely on, and those that were there don’t sound like great supports.”

“They weren’t.”

“So what support would you like to see?”

As the temperature dropped and the first snowflakes touched down around us, Marina gently but firmly helped me work through some long-held beliefs that didn’t serve who I wanted to be.

She congratulated me on my decision to speak out against Denny Hayes, agreed with Weston’s suggestion of no contact… and gently suggested that maybe my sister wasn’t the villain I’d made her into over the years.

When we stood and stretched out our cold muscles, my mind raced ahead in a to-do list that scared and elated me.

I was going way out of my comfort zone.

And a part of me knew it was well overdue.