Page 28 of The Summer You Were Mine

Cris had been dreading this Zoom meeting since the day he’d found out about the Sports Illustrated article.

But Teena texted him in all caps, MAKE TIME FOR A CALL , and he knew he couldn’t dodge her anymore with excuses of travel and time zones.

It was time to deal with it. Weirdly, he was kind of excited.

Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of a new life potentially awaiting him, which felt so much closer after he got the phone call on the lungomare with Ellie.

These days, he was finding himself abnormally interested in old episodes of ER and watching ambulances as they drove by.

If having one conversation took him a step closer to getting this scandal off his back so that he could move on, he’d be ready for fifty more like it.

Cris sat at the kitchen table to be sure he was close enough to the router.

Internet in the house could be thrown off by something as little as firing up the microwave, and the last thing he needed was more communication problems. He had propped his iPad up on two boxes of Barilla pasta and a brick of vacuum-sealed Kimbo coffee to get it to the right height to spare Teena from staring up his nostrils the whole call.

And since he had already shaved for the dinner that night, he was looking fresher and cleaner than ever. He was ready.

The meeting connected and Teena immediately stood up and began pacing a short path between the glossy white lacquer desk and a wall of glass overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway in downtown Miami.

As a former trial lawyer, she was often found laying out her talking points while prowling back and forth in her office.

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started working together?” she asked, her dark-brown hand pushing one of her long braids behind her back.

“You said it’s a good thing I am good-looking, otherwise I wouldn’t get sponsored to take out the trash.”

“I said that? Harsh. But true. Aside from that. Do you remember?” This was rhetorical, clearly.

T didn’t look like she was truly interested in his input.

“You were part of the deal for Ale and Leo, but I never would have taken you on if I didn’t think you had something.

And I had one request. I said, ‘Don’t do anything stupid without coming to me first.’” Left and right across the screen she went, in her hot-pink sleeveless shift dress and chunky jade jewelry.

“T, I really want to talk to you about—”

“You need a night out with your boys? You want to jump out of an airplane, go to a strip club, gamble? I can make that happen. I got a top-three NHL draft pick out of jail after he smuggled a monkey home from Phuket, Cris. I can handle things. Do you understand me?” Teena gestured with her perfectly manicured nails.

“I thought—”

“But, see, that’s the problem. It’s not what you thought, Cris.

It’s what you did. Now I know the press gave you a rough time over your dad.

I can appreciate that you didn’t want to give them the time when they all came running back to you after Tokyo.

It worked in your favor. A little mystique never hurt anyone and we were still able to get you two magazine covers and three commercials out of it.

But now the press has nothing to go on and they are hangry.

Anything they’ve got is what they’re going with.

Do you blame them? I don’t.” Back and forth she went, an abstract glass vase on the desk filled with calla lilies coming in and out of view as she moved.

“I don’t want miracles. I don’t want to swim again. All I want to do is tell the truth and make it so that whatever legacy I left still stands for something in this sport. And then I want to move on. That’s it,” he said, holding up his hands.

“You should have thought of that before you went and took garbage,” she said.

Cris bristled. He hated the fact that no matter what, he was going to be considered a doper. No one out there was going to be interested in the nuances of what he took and why. They just knew he took something.

“I was in pain. I was never going to compete again and I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not what people think. WADA doesn’t even consider it a banned substance.”

“Yeah, but the IGF-1 in the velvet is most definitely a banned substance. I do all my research,” she said, jabbing a nail toward the camera. “But we’re going to fix this. I am going to help you because I believe in you. You’re a good guy, Cris, and we’re going to finish this out the right way.”

“I want that, too, believe me. In fact, I kind of have a plan.”

“Oh, you do?” She paused and looked into the camera.

“I do. I’ve been talking to the people at Games Over about coming on the show.”

“You’ve been talking to them? That’s my job. Don’t negotiate anything!” she said, her eyebrows pitching into a deep V.

“I’m not negotiating.” He had to be up-front with her.

She had to know that this was not a risky deal.

Though, Ellie’s face when they said goodbye earlier was definitely not a zero-risk kind of look.

“The host, you know El—Dr. Beltrami. She and I have been talking about it, just casually. She’s a family friend. ”

“Family friend?” Teena asked, eyeballs still trained on the camera. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Jesus Christ, T.” He reeled back in his chair. Thank God the house was empty. The beach crowd was probably getting ready for the golden hour aperitivo on the deck, and he was actually jealous for once. He’d rather be grilled by all the Delfino elders simultaneously than face Teena on this.

“You’re sleeping with her or you want to,” she said.

“We are old friends.”

“So you want to.”

“It is absolutely not like that. She’s practically a cousin.

” He winced internally at how wrong-sounding yet weirdly true that statement was in light of this weekend’s events.

Either way, the details of their relationship shouldn’t matter.

If that was the case, he probably should tell Teena that Ellie also vomited on his feet once when she ate some bad tuna for lunch when she was about six.

“This is a bad idea. If the two of you are going to be making cutesy eyes at each other on camera, it’s not going to help you gain credibility.

They’ll think it’s a fluff piece and click on something else about you that looks just inaccurate enough to be entertaining.

So that’s a waste of your time. And mine,” she said, pointing the tip of a nail into her chest. “You know what happened on her show, right? I’m going to find you a way to get your statement out there, but Games Over isn’t going to be it. ”

He didn’t actually know the details of what happened with Ellie and the show.

He could google it, of course, but it didn’t feel right to.

How bad could it be? He doubted she was capable of doing anything so horrible that he wouldn’t want to be a guest. Plus, it wasn’t only about him.

He’d made a deal with Ellie—no, not a deal, a partnership.

The idea of going back on it now, especially since he was trying to regain even a basic trust, yanked a line of tension across the top of his head.

Still, how often was Teena wrong about something like this? Was there a number for less than never?

“I hear you. And I trust you, but this is going to be professional,” he said. “I think we can help each other get the right information out there.”

“I don’t represent her. I represent you .

That means I have to put you first. Look, I am going to do what I do best, which is make you look like a star.

I will let you know when I have an interview situation on lock.

Then, it’s up to you to decide whether you want to do this the right way.

I never push you. You know that. But I will let you know what I think is going to save your ass before you fall flat on it again. ” She smiled, but she wasn’t joking.

“Understood. There’s some other stuff I want to talk to you about. I have made a couple of decisions about what happens after this. I love my brothers and I know that this is going to be a huge disappointment, but—”

“Do me a favor, okay?” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t make any decisions right now. Just wait. I’ve got to go. Stay out of trouble. And probably stay out of the good doctor, too,” she said, eyebrow cocked.

Cris still had a headache fifteen minutes after ending the call.

It was one thing when he could blow off a press briefing in the cool shade of a recently acquired gold medal.

Back then, his reluctance to talk could be spun into “competitive focus,” and the sexy, brooding vibe hadn’t hurt him, but this scandal tore that to shreds.

Now, he pictured the press perched at their laptops, a committee of vultures waiting to shred him to pieces for being a washed-up delinquent.

Unfortunately, Games Over , which seemed like a cushy and hospitable place to set the record straight, might be perceived as another piece of evidence that he was looking to hide out behind a friend.

Teena’s voice rang in his head. She was right to be straight with him.

Even he knew that sometimes he only responded to blunt force.

No matter how much he hated all of this, running away was not going to work anymore.

He finally disassembled the tower of pantry staples holding up his iPad and returned them to the shelves before heading back up to the guest room to get ready for dinner.

Only a few days ago, he felt more alone than he ever had.

There was still no guarantee of anything with Ellie, but just the mere fact that they were talking made him hopeful—but for what?

He looked around at his old room, a place where he was simply a guest now.

Nothing was what it used to be. Not even him.