Page 2 of Just for the Cameras
Lived the damage.
The nimrod on the end is the one to break the silence as he says, “Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”
Gretchen’s head snaps in his direction, causing him to shift in his seat.She pushes off the desk and opens another folder, only to hand us each a piece of paper. “Your first assignment is with the San Francisco Zoo.”
She has to be fucking kidding me.
“A zoo?” I deadpan. “How the fuck is volunteering at a zoo going to help with public image?”
“People like animals, my man,” the hockey player says as he examines the leaflet.
“I’m not your man,” I snap back.
Gretchen slams the folder on the desk, bringing all of our attention back to her. “It’s best that you three get along, because if there’s one thing I know for sure, none of you have a clause in your contract that prevents you from mandatory public service, which means all three of you will be spending a lot of time with each other over the next couple of months.” She smirks and then moves around her desk. “Any questions?”
“What if we say no?” I ask, because this is the last thing I want.
Letting the public into my life brings questions.
Questions breach privacy.
And privacy is everything to me.
Gretchen smirks at me as she sits on the desk and crosses one leg over the other. “You don’t have the option to say no.”
Fuck.
CHAPTER 1
GRAYDON
Three…two…one…
I drop the battle ropes to the ground, my shoulders burning. “Fuck!” I yell as my hands fall to my hips and I walk off the fatigue from the physical exertion I just put myself through.
“Jesus, man. I think the seagulls out on the bay just heard that.”
Hutton Marshall, wide receiver for the Foghorns, and the only glimmer of hope for the offense, hands me my water bottle.
I squirt some water into my mouth and continue to pace, letting my shoulders take a break after a grueling workout.
“Any reason you seem like you’re ready to rip someone’s head off?”
I pick up a white towel with the Foghorns logo printed on it and wipe away the sweat dripping down my face, neck, and chest.
Turning to him, I ask, “Does your contract state that you can’t be forced into any mandatory public appearances with the team?”
“Doesn’t everybody’s?” he asks, as if it’s a dumb question. “And if I’m required to show up, I’m compensated. Why? Is that not in your contract?”
I shake my head, already dreaming up the email that fires my agent. “No, it’s not,” I growl before squirting more water in my mouth. “Which is why I have to go to the fucking zoo today for some new initiative to make the team look better.”
“Wait…what?” he asks.
“Apparently, the owners of the Foghorns, Bombers, and Rogue came up with a bullshit plan to create a sense of community with the sports teams here, and I’m the lucky motherfucker who was picked for the job.”
“Shit.” He chuckles, which makes me shoot a glare his way. At six foot five and two hundred and eighty-eight pounds of rock-hard muscle, I’m not a fucker to be messed with. “I mean, uh…dude, that sucks. Can’t your agent get you out of it?”
“No, he’s the dickhead who got me into this mess.”
