Page 33 of Who's Loving You
Diva: Wait. Don’t you mean he’s hard at work?
Me: Remind me why I’m friends with youassholes?
Diva: Because no one else would put up with you, dickwad.
Saint: Inquiring minds want to know. Is the cougar teaching her young cub new tricks in the sheets?
Me: Fuck you both. I gotta go.
I’m back in Monty’s office, the school boy about to get his ass chewed, and I’m thinking that I have just signed my eviction notice. None of what that article said is true, but I’m not sure that I’ll be able to convince Monty of that.
He’ll probably accuse me of seducing Valentina, then fire her and bench me. This can’t be good for either of us. She’ll hate me and I’ll get the rep of the star that never was.
The door clicks behind me and I turn to see Valentina walking in, impeccably dressed from head to toe as always. Stoically, she walks in not making eye contact with me and sits down. She folds her hands in her lap and squares her shoulders, just as always, the ever professional.
I take a deep breath and turn my body to face hers. “Valentina, I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’ll fix it. I promise.”
Surprisingly, she responds but never looks at me.
“We’re both at fault for this. The only person we should be apologizing to is Monty. We let him down.” Just as I open my mouth to agree with her, the door to Monty’s private bathroom opens and in steps the big man.
His eyes are laser focused on the two of us as he steps behind his desk and slowly lowers down into his leatherchair. It creaks under his body weight as he leans back. The stern look on his face is one that my parents would give me after, once again, getting into trouble after causing mayhem with Nik and Nick.
“Mr. Montgomery. The article has it all wrong. Let me explain–” My words are halted with a raise of his hand and look of pure fire.
He inhales, deep and long, and purses his lips, his thick mustache twitching from side to side.
“This,” he says, his tone flat. “This has got to be the most brilliant idea.” We watch his face morph right in front of our eyes from irate to pure giddiness.
“Say what?” I ask while Valentina says, “huh?”
“It’s genius. I never would have thought to suggest it but you, Ms. San Ramón, are better than I thought you were.”
Valentina and I look at one another, our faces bewildered and wondering if this is real life.
“Sir,” she begins. “I don’t think I understand what you mean. The article that Nico is speaking of puts us both in a damning situation if I am to clean him up. It will take some extra work, but I’m positive I can–”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You and Nic. Together. It’s perfect. Who better to fix this young man’s philandering ways than the fixer herself? You’re young and brilliant, successful and respected amongst Houstonians. It’s a shame I didn’t think of this sooner. We could’ve cut right to the chase.” Monty is animated, his hands flailing and his face red with excitement.
In all honesty, I quite agree with Monty. You won’t hear me complaining over people thinking we are a couple. I doubt it will ever lead to anything, but it might be a nice little bonus to have to spend more time withher, possibly holding some hands or even a little make out session for the cameras.
“Excuse me?” Valentina looks like she wants to vomit in her mouth at the thought of her and I playing a young couple in love.
“You know. Maybe you’re right, Mr. Montgomery. People have already seen us out together, pictures have been taken, and the gossip sites are already buzzing with assumptions. Why not just roll with it.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Her eyes jump between the two of us.
“I like a good joke every now and then Val, but you won’t find one here. It will be easy to play this up. You’ll attend games, be seen out at dinners, and spend as much time as possible with one another. In no time, this young man will be the pure definition of a role model.”
“Wait. Just…” She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “You want me to attend his games and spend what little free time I have babysitting him?”
“Hey. I’m not a child,” I interject.
With narrowed eyes, she spits, “Well then quit acting like one.”
“Cool your horses, you two.” Valentina releases a tight breath that she strangles in her lungs. “My dear, a supportive girlfriend would be at all of her boyfriend’s games. And since you’re part of the Drillers family, you’ll have a VIP seat in the owner’s box.”
Her face begins to pale, all signs of life draining from it. I should feel bad about this. She seems the type to be the puppeteer and not the puppet. It’s not her style to follow commands. An ounce of guilt settles in my stomach, and quickly dissipates.