Page 101 of Bluffed By the Offense

Cass

One lie engenders another.

Once committed, the liar has to go on

in his course of lying.

~ Francis Jacox

I run my hands down my skirt, tapping the toe of my boot on the floor of the Uber.

“Are you okay over there?” Winona asks in her typically unbothered tone.

“I’m fine. Good. Great.”

She has no idea of the real reason behind my nerves. It’s true, I’m not one to love the limelight, so appearing on a local morning show that is shown throughout multiple counties is definitely a small part of why I can’t sit still.

But the bigger piece is that I’m going to have to pull off this girlfriend gig on television. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal to let the rumors roll on after the photo shoot or to pretend to be Marcus’s date at the gala. I haven’t loved our charade in front of the town since then, but it was for a good cause—at least on my end. Porch Light has benefitted greatly from my sacrifice.

But now? I’m about to lie to half the state of Tennessee.

What am I thinking?

“Fine. Good. Great, huh?” Winona asks me. “That sounds amazing. Also untrue. Are you nervous?”

“I’m … yeah. I am.”

“Awww. Cass. I understand,” Winona says.

She reaches across the back seat and puts her hand on my leg. “You’re going to be amazing. You are amazing. Besides …” Her smile spreads. “Marcus will be there.”

“Yeah. He will.”

“You don’t talk about him much,” she says.

“I know. I’m just getting used to us. It’s not like a usual relationship.”

“Tell me about it,” she says, totally misunderstanding what I’m saying between the lines. “Dating a pro football player is crazy. And I’m not just talking about the spotlight that follows them around. It’s an adjustment, living around their schedules and the way they have to abuse their bodies for the sport.”

“It is,” I agree. “Marcus and I don’t spend a lot of time together right now.”

“That’s normal during the season. Declan and I have to get creative. You two will figure it out.”

“We’ll get to a point,” I say, trying to be vague enough that I’m not overtly lying.

We will get to a point—the point where we’re no longer faking and we call this farce off.

The Uber pulls up in front of the station. I thank the driver and he pulls away.

“They said to go in through the guest entrance,” I tell Winona. “Over here.”

There’s a reception area just inside the door.

“We're here for Good Day Nashville,” I tell the young woman behind the desk. “Winona and Cass Carter?”

The woman checks her computer screen and says, “Yes. Here you are. I’ve got your badges right here. Let me call for your escort.”

A young woman wearing cat-eye glasses and a short-sleeved cardigan shows up almost immediately and escorts us back to the green room. When she opens the door, Marcus is already there, sitting on one of the sofas, drinking from a paper cup. He stands and walks over to us.