Page 30 of Guarding the Star

Tina opens her mouth. Closes it. Her chin trembles.

“But you're Iris Vance,” she says, like that explains everything.

“Yeah. And I'm a goddamn mess. Having a million followers or scoring goals doesn't make me a good example for anyone,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “And I should be, or at least try, because there are a lot of young players watching everything I do. But you know what the worst part is? It's not because I love partying that much. I mean, okay, I do, but it's because if I stay home, I have to sit with myself, and that… shit, it's really hard, Tina. Showing up late? It's because if I get there on time, I have to sit still and wait, and the quiet eats me alive. The constant jokes? So nobody looks too close at who I really am.”

I stop. I've said too much. I've said it to a twenty-two-year-old player who's crying in a locker room because she showed up half-drunk to practice.

Tina stares at me, eyes wide.

“Are you okay, Iris?”

“I'm better than I've been in a long time, which is weird given everything I just said. But yeah. I'm… working on it.”

“On what?”

“On being myself.”

Tina keeps staring, not knowing what to say.

“Man, I'm getting way too deep. I sound like some kind of philosopher,” I joke, shaking my head. “Don't tell anyone about this, okay? It'd ruin my tough girl reputation.”

“You're not a tough girl. Deep down, we all know that.”

“Excuse me?”

“You're the softest person I know. You smell a kid's head fifteen times a day, and he isn't even yours. You know every maintenance worker at the club by name. You bought a birthday present for the cleaning lady's son. You're loud. That's very different. And a really good person,” she says, leaning her head on my shoulder.

We sit still. She's only twenty-two and she just told me something close to what Paula said in the car that night after the gala. “I see that Iris.” And now Tina, with red eyes and a wrinkled shirt, sees the same thing.

“Tina.”

“Yeah?”

“You are not allowed to go out partying before a practice again. And neither am I. Both of us. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says.

“But if you ever really need a night out, you call me. We go together. And I make sure we both show up to practice in one piece. Okay?”

Tina smiles and shakes my hand like we're closing a business deal.

Chapter 10

Paula

I have to read the article several times before the full scope of the disaster sinks in. That's not counting the endless calls and texts from my boss that I don't dare answer, though I can imagine the tone.

“Bodyguard or Girlfriend? Club Sources Confirm Iris Vance's Partner Is Actually Security Personnel,” the headline reads.

Below it, two photos. The first: Iris and me posing together at the gala, my hand on her back, her smile spectacular. The second: me at the same gala, six feet behind Iris, speaking into my earpiece mic, eyes sweeping the room. Operational posture. Nothing couple. Everything bodyguard.

Goddamn it. Rookie mistake.

Both photos are from the same event. Same night. Same person. But they tell very different stories.

And the second one destroys the first.

I read the full article. Five hundred words citing an alleged club employee who requested anonymity. The details are precise: my firm's name, even my private security license. Whoever did this meant to cause damage, and they did.