Chapter Fifteen

JOSH PULLEDinto the empty high school parking lot, gravel crunching under his tires as he parked next to Principal Carver’s sedan. The cold night air rushed in when he opened the door, making him shiver. He hurried across the asphalt toward the dark gym entrance, unease tugging at his gut.

What had Carver called him here for at 2:00 a.m.? He’d said something about an arrest. Did burglars target schools? Had one of the kids done something crazy? January was way too soon for the seniors to start acting out.

He slipped through the propped-open door into the equipment room, the baked-in pong of sweat and disinfectant familiar and oddly comforting. Shrill voices echoed down the hallway, rising and falling in agitation… two women bickering, it sounded like.

As Josh stepped into the athletics office, he froze.

Principal Carver stood with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and sneakers. Sneakers? Josh could not remember him wearing anything less casual than a blazer in ten years. Never. Carver must have been hauled out of bed too.

Carver was leaning over a teary Elise Tattersall, Josh’s fellow coach and fake-flirting buddy. Elise was mumbling rapidly and gulping air while she tried to get words out. She was cradling her arm in a gym towel soaked with red.

Josh cleared his throat. “Elise? What happened?”

Everyone turned, relief washing over Carver’s face.

Elise stood and hugged him tightly with one arm. The other seemed to be wrapped in the stained towel. “Oh, Josh, it was horrible. She’s a lunatic.” She gripped Josh’s shoulder like a life raft. “An animal.”

Over her shoulder, Carver stared at him, eyes wide, shaking his head. He looked exhausted, brow furrowed. “Josh, thank God you’re here.”

And then a sharp, sneering, all-too-familiar voice. “What you are going to do is unhand me.” Cilla Miller sat in a black sweatsuit, blocked by two annoyed-looking police officers.

“Cilla.” Josh sighed and steadied himself. “Why am I surprised?”

She whirled to face him, her ginger helmet unmoving around her panicked, swollen face. Her eyes were bloodshot and oozing a steady stream of tears. Her wrists were handcuffed in front of her. “I am a deeply respected member of the press.”

“Respected! Hmmph.” Elise spun and glared at Cilla. “In a dog park, respected. Deep in a gutter, maybe.”

“Miss Tattersall.” Carver spoke up and took Elise’s arm to guide her to the other side of the room. “Officers, if you’ll just give us a moment to explain.”

The cops seemed as baffled as Josh felt, one of them the parent of a Hamilton sophomore. Vasquez was her name, and Josh knew the family. The other was an Officer Hurley, based on his badge, and he seemed equally freaked out by these odd circumstances.

“We’re going to….” After some muttered discussion, the two officers opted to stand with their backs to the door, barring any sudden escapes.

Had Cilla already tried to make some kind of break for it? Why was she cuffed? Why was there blood? Why were Josh’s papers and clothes all over the floor?

Josh asked, “What exactly has been happening in here?”

Carver spoke calmly and slowly. “We have what you might call a situation.”

“No kidding.” Josh’s gaze careened between Cilla and the cops. “Care to explain why we’re standing here at two in the morning?”

“My job. My job is what.” Cilla grinned and bounced, words clattering out like coins from a jackpot. “I swung by briefly, shooting a little B-roll for my producers, when this fat maniac attacked me. She assaulted me out of the clear blue.”

“ZZZZZZT. Try again, Little Orphan Anorexia.” Elise scowled, her good arm crossed over her athletic department sweatshirt. Was she actively bleeding? Why was she bleeding?

“To be clear,” Carver tried to interject, “Miss Miller has offered four or five different explanations so far—”

Elise jabbed a finger toward her. “None of which are anywhere close to what happened. Because it happened to me, you bitter bitch. Because the entire school has actual cameras and your bony ass is going to jail. Real jail.” She held up the red-soaked towel around her arm and pointed at it. “On camera.”

“Then what did happen?” Josh asked. His bafflement had started to tip over into dismay. If Cilla Miller had been prowling around campus in the wee hours, whatever had gone down tonight meant nothing good for him and Tyler.

“So….” Elise took a deep breath and launched into a reenactment with melodramatic gusto. “I finished painting the yoga studio kind of late, and I realize my laptop isn’t in my bag. Because I’d taken it out to do the raffle posters. Anyways, I came back here to grab it around midnight or maybe half past. Lot was dark. Building, dark. Sure enough, my laptop was on my desk.” She pointed at it. “But then as I’m leaving, I hear a… scrape or something from the locker room. I stepped out into the hall to listen. I figured it was kids. Scuffling or rummaging, stuff getting knocked over. And then that basket rattle, like someone’s trying to get into one of the wire bins. I’m no wimp, so I called 9-1-1 for backup and went to go check it out with my flashlight.”

Cilla bristled. “That is a lie.” She raised her cuffed hands to wipe her face.

Elise gestured angrily at her. “Lo and behold, before I even turn on my light, I spot Princess Dye Job of Bony Butt here on her way out of the locker hunched over. Creeping along like a rat. Trespassing. Theft. Maybe something grosser.” She hissed at Cilla. “You’re disgusting.”

Cilla stared straight ahead. Her swollen eyes looked raw and painful.

Carver frowned in impatience. “Miss Tattersall….”

“Sorry. So I follow her. I had a pretty good idea…. Sure enough, she bends down, rattle-rattle-rattle. Our office door opens. Breaking and entering too. I think, ‘This is getting good.’ In she goes.”

“It was a perfectly innocent—”

Elise huffed in disdain. “Innocent my ass. She comes into our office here and starts rifling through our desks. Files. IDs. Pulling out drawers, tossing papers around, taking pictures of whatever. She had a big stack of files and folders already piled up on your desk. Then she gets to your locker and starts going through your… well, your stuff. Your shorts.” She lowered her eyes.

“My what?” That stopped Josh cold. “Do you mean underwear?”

“Jockstrap, actually.”

Cilla sniffed. “Lie. You planted that on me.”

“How could I?” Elise shook her head. “You had this man’s actual jockstrap in your blouse with his papers on your way out the damn door. And then she jumped me.”

“You jumped me.”

Elise sighed. “Like a meth-lab den-mom. Not surprising, I mean, look at her. Trash. Lady, they’re going to love you in prison.”

“Miss Tattersall.” Carver was getting exasperated again.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Cilla scoffed and wheezed. “I was just taking some B-roll footage of the school trophies when this lunatic attacked me.”

Carver squinted. “In the middle of the night. Your crew can verify this.”

“Well… no. With my phone. I was having dinner nearby and thought I’d kill—”

“—everyone’s appetite with your snooping and sniffing of people’s privates,” Elise interrupted, indignant. “I caught her red-handed stealing private documents and student records. She was shoving your jockstrap in her bra.”

Worse than he’d expected.

Josh turned slowly. “Miss Miller…. Let me understand this.” His anger started to unfold and spread inside him like a terrible black bird, but since the incident with Myra, he’d learned to take a breath. “You went through my personal belongings? By accident.”

Cilla laughed nervously. “I’ve absolutely no clue why she’s lying. Your underpants? Ew, no. I’m a journalist.”

“Ask them.” Elise pointed to the cops.

Officer Vasquez held up a plastic evidence bag containing Josh’s jockstrap. His brand, his size, his initials on the waistband.

Made no sense. Why had she wanted a jock? His jock. What had she planned to do with it?

Elise smirked. “Stuffed in her blouse, along with a folder of medical records, employee reviews, and coaching files. She picked this place clean.”

“I resent the insinuation. I would never stoop so low.”

“You don’t need to stoop… because you’re a snake. And I’m not insinuating anything. I am an expert eyewitness. You’re on camera, bone-bag.” Elise pointed up at the ceiling. “The only reason we don’t have a camera inside this office is because there’s a shower. I’m going to come visit you in prison just so we can compare bite marks once you start your own collection.” She held up her bleeding arm.

“What is it with reporters?” Josh widened his eyes at Cilla. “You people are psychotic.” He shook his head, disgusted that some pushy stranger would violate his school and his privacy like this. Gross. He needed to stop her, but he couldn’t risk stirring up the media hornet’s nest. Tricky.

Cilla gave a sad sniff. “You’re holding me here against my will. This is kidnapping.” She raised her cuffed wrists.

“No.” Principal Carver scrutinized Cilla Miller with disbelief. “Those are police officers who just restrained you for your own safety, ma’am.” The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. “You’ve already committed several crimes here tonight. Felonies.”

“Says her. She almost killed me.”

“Trust me. Not difficult if I wanted to.” Elise snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Do you have any idea—? There is something wrong with you, Ms. Miller.” Carver folded his arms across his chest. “The officers have already downloaded the recordings. Trespassing, stalking, breaking and entering, burglary, harassment, assault, faculty belongings, children’s belongings.”

Cilla opened her mouth to protest, but Elise cut her off. “Don’t even think it, missy.” With pursed lips, the coach lifted her forearm to reveal a bloody oval of teeth marks. “Perfect set.”

Josh goggled. “Jesus, Elise.”

“I can’t wait to call your dentist. Better than a fingerprint right here.” Elise pointed at her bloody arm. “And if I have to amputate a limb ’cause you have some tabloid sex disease, I’m going to sue your whole crappy channel into the poorhouse.”

Cilla started to look a lot less sure of herself. One of her knees bounced rapidly.

“I tried to stop her from running off, and she bit me with her fake Chiclet teeth!” Elise said. “Broke the skin and everything. Blood all over. Probably infected. Soon as they book her, I’m going to the hospital to get rabies shots. And penicillin.”

“You grabbed me,” Cilla cried, her voice echoing shrilly off the hard walls. “I was just… surprised is all.”

Josh couldn’t believe the gall. “With my jockstrap in your bra. And my records.” The creepiness of this was off the charts. He wanted to tell Tyler, and at the same time he was deeply grateful that Tyler was in San Diego, blissfully ignorant of this stupidity.

Cilla’s face flushed nearly as red as her hair. Her lips moved as she sputtered for a response, but none came.

Carver raised an eyebrow. “When you sneak into private property to steal items and assault people, you get arrested.”

“Says who?”

Elise got in her face now. “The law. The law says. And I, for one, cannot wait to testify, skin-tag. I think I have a new hobby. Making your life miserable.”

Cilla stared at each of them in turn, imploring them, her face a baleful mask. “I am almost completely innocent.”

Josh felt a swell of gratitude for Carver and Elise having his back. His friends. The one thing fame hadn’t stolen from him. Josh breathed a little easier knowing they were on his side against the Cillas of the world. No matter how far he and Tyler came, these media parasites would intrude and try to dredge up dirt.

Josh turned to Elise. “She grabbed you in the dark?”

“Yeah. When I caught her arm, she elbowed me hard in the gut, but I dropped her with a sweep. Next thing I know we’re rolling around in the dark, she’s yanking out my hair.” Elise grinned. “But I am no dummy. I got my pepper spray, and I gave her a good long spritz.”

Cilla shook her head with indignation, but her hair didn’t move. “For which I will sue.”

“Try. Try and sue me, hairspray.”

“Ms. Tattersall, please. This isn’t helping.” Carver was starting to lose his patience.

Josh held up his arms and stood between them.

“Didn’t see that coming, did she?” Elise huffed. “I sprayed her like a roach and then sat on her fake tits till the cavalry arrived.” She extended a grateful arm to Hurley and Vasquez by the door.

Josh couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Trust Elise to go toe-to-toe with an unhinged reporter. Under different and less grueling circumstances, the image of Elise sitting on top of Cilla, Josh’s jockstrap and a can of pepper spray in hand, would have been hilarious.

“Soon as we showed up, Ms. Tattersall demanded a lawyer and a rabies test,” Officer Vasquez added dryly. “She had completely incapacitated the suspect.”

“Rabies test?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed.” Carver’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

Elise gestured impatiently at Cilla. “Look at her. I can only imagine where that mouth has been.”

“Gotcha,” Josh muttered, trying to maintain a serious demeanor. But he couldn’t shake off the nagging sense that all this would reach Tyler somehow, that pressing actual charges wouldn’t help anyone but the sleazy media. “Thanks for having my back, Elise.”

“Always, hot stuff,” she replied.

Absurd. But then everything seemed absurd. This is what happens when you date out of your league. Literally. In Tyler’s world, the Swells could just bribe someone or hire a crisis management team to make things disappear. But Josh was just a high school coach who still lived eleven miles from the house where he was born.

This entire farce—Cilla’s relentless pursuit of a scandal, the catfight with Elise, the cops looming on the sidelines—weighed heavily on Josh. It was up to him to decide how things would proceed from here. What would be best for Tyler? For himself? And, ultimately, for their relationship?

“Josh, are you okay?” Carver asked, concern etched on his face.

Josh realized he’d been lost in thought, staring into the empty hallway. “No. Yeah. This could get really ugly.”

Carver nodded at Elise, Cilla, the cops getting impatient by the door. “You see my dilemma.”

“Y-yeah,” he breathed out, forcing a smile. “Thank you for calling me before anything official happened.”

Tall and composed, Carver ran a head over his bald head before looking up from the floor. His deep voice resonated in the otherwise silent office. “Josh, as the principal, I need to report Ms. Miller’s break-in, theft, and assault of a staff member… officially. The county should know. The school board should know. This is a serious criminal matter.”

Cilla, her red hair gleaming under the harsh lights, screwed up her face. “Sure, sure. You want this whole misunderstanding all over the media. I don’t think Mr. Ayres is equipped for that. Relationships are fair game.” She stared at him, the threat direct. “Look, Tyler Fantana is a public figure, and so you are a public figure. Clickbait.”

Josh clenched his fists and took a deep breath to calm himself. The scent of floor cleaner and stale air filled his nostrils.

Cilla huffed and scowled at them all in turn. “None of this is real. ‘America’s Tightest End’ is a character. A product. Quid pro quo. Grow up. Captain Fantastic? It’s a trade.” She exhaled in a puff of indignation. “I am doing my job here.”

She just wanted the headlines. He had to do something. Myra Waxman had taught him a powerful lesson about letting assholes slide. He glanced at Elise, who stood by his side, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

Carver shook his head. “It has to be your call. The officers understand.”

Officer Vasquez nodded. “What you did for my kid? I can never repay you, Coach. So we can book her or we can call it in as a false alarm. Miss Tattersall and Principal Carver just have to press charges.”

“Or not.” Carver watched him. “And that’s why we called you here. We will have to report a break-in, but identifying a culprit is a whole other deal.”

“Josh,” Elise said, “you know what I want. But this is your life. Your boyfriend. Your privacy. Your jockstrap.” She glared at Cilla. “You decide. Whatever you want, I want. Press charges, file a complaint, let her off with a warning, strip her naked and dump her out in the desert to crawl home over hot sand?”

Swallowing hard, Josh turned his gaze to Cilla. Even with the puffy, smeary eyes, her faux victimhood only fueled his frustration. Myra had pulled the same crap: boo-hoo, poor me. “I need an explanation, Cilla. A believable one…. I’m waiting.”

Cilla’s runny eyes flicked to the bitemark, the jockstrap, the cops, the desk, her cuffed wrists. “I don’t think I should say anything else, actually.”

“Wow.” Josh frowned. “Nothing…. You can’t even manage a lie. So you ‘accidentally’ entered a locked school, ‘mistakenly’ searched a locker room full of kids’ gear, and ‘inadvertently’ picked that lock before my used jockstrap and private files ‘happened’ to fall upwards into your brassiere? Seriously? That’s your play.”

“Stranger things….” Cilla shrugged.

“I told you.” Elise rocked her weight from foot to foot.

“Look, Mr. Ayres, we’re just trying to do right by you.” Officer Hurley said. “Paperwork’s done. This list of charges, she won’t make bail. She went through kids’ underwear too. We know just where to stick her.”

Cilla crossed her arms. “This is disgraceful. I’m going to call my lawyer.”

Elise stood. “Do it, honey. Please.”

“Indeed,” Carver said, “but if you do that, it’ll be from holding downtown.”

Cilla didn’t like that one bit. “I’m not a criminal.”

Josh shook his head, unable to hide his incredulity. “You’re worse. Criminals do it for money. You vultures live off misery.”

“The public wants the juicy details. Closeted players. A potential porn star swap ring. Fantana is no angel.” Cilla’s eyes narrowed, but she plastered on a smile. “I got a job to do.”

“You mean this, all this, is what people want: Robbing people. Biting them. Jockstraps.” Josh stepped closer, crowding into her space.

Cilla’s cheeks flushed an ugly red. “This is so unfair.” She blinked in self-pity.

“This is a school, young lady.” Carver spoke to the redheaded reporter the way he’d address a toxic thirteen-year-old. “Do you understand? The nice police officers there”—the cops waved—“have taken over seventy-five pictures: of you, the bite, the locks, muddy footprints, multiple crime scenes. Those bracelets are called handcuffs. We have you on video from six cameras committing multiple felonies on school grounds.” He pointed up at the ceiling. “Your car is outside, clamped. The only person on God’s earth that can save your—” He turned to Elise.

Elise smiled. “Bony ass.”

“Yes, that, is this nice gentleman who you’ve been stalking and harassing inside my school. The officers have your ID, your employers, your fingerprints, your bite mark, your social security number, and several DNA samples. Elise here”—Elise waved—“is headed to a hospital to document her injuries. So maybe you want to dial it down before someone sensible loses their temper.”

Elise cackled. “Any bets, McRibs? You better pray he’s nicer than me.”

Cilla swallowed.

Josh tensed, starting to spiral. He couldn’t give her a pass, but he didn’t want to make an even bigger mess in the press. “I don’t trust her. Anything she says is a lie. The way she sits and smiles is a lie.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “God, this is so gross. You people are so gross.”

Cilla’s plastic smile melted into a genuine scowl.

“I’m not even a person to you. The way I figure….” Josh peered at her. “Only someone truly repulsive would invade a school to exploit someone’s private life in front of kids for a buck.” He cocked his head. “Not you, though. You care about sports. Or are you disgusting? Let’s find out.”

Elise grabbed Josh’s arm, her grip firm and grounding. “It doesn’t matter. Let the cops handle her. Some bony mooch with a Botox addiction. Just kill her job and let the courts have her carcass.”

“Or let it go, Josh.” Carver spoke low, looking him straight in the eye. “Consider the long game. How can you keep all of this foolishness contained? What will help you? What protects Tyler? You might win the battle and lose the war with this one.”

Cilla nodded slowly at the principal. “Smart man.”

“Hardly. I’ve seen a hundred of you, young lady. A thousand. This is a high school. Envious bullies aren’t anything special.” Carver glanced at her with something like pity, then back to Josh. “It’s the middle of the night. She has no family. Her producers don’t care about her. Nobody does. They’ll boot her butt by midday tomorrow and a smarter, nastier one will take her spot. Hundreds of these hungry ticks trying to suck their way up the ladder.”

Josh realized what he was suggesting. “You think I should let her walk.”

“I think this is a long game, here. I think you should play the field with what you’ve got.”

Josh nodded. In a perfect world, he’d call Tyler and the Swells would send a PR team to make all this vanish. Or someone would lean on Channel Twenty-four and kill whatever fake story she had planned.

But Carver was right. Cilla Miller was one in a long line of leeches. As long as he stood anywhere near Tyler, these vermin would scuttle out of the cracks to steal and falsify whatever they could.

Officer Hurley said, “Mr. Ayres?”

Josh shook his head and turned. “Sorry, Elise.” He needed to let her walk, for Tyler, for himself. Carver looked relieved and sad.

Elise blinked in confusion. “Sorry why? Oh. Okay.” She glanced at Cilla, who was now sitting very still. “Are you sure? She won’t let up. She’s never going to stop.”

“She will. Cilla won’t say one goddamned word about me or Tyler.” Josh leaned over to her. “Got it? You say a single negative word about either of us in public to anyone, and I’ll bankrupt myself putting you in jail and keeping you there.”

Cilla stood. “If you aren’t going to charge me, then I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Wrong, sweet cheeks,” Elise hissed at her. “It looks like I just forgot who did all this… for the moment. But any minute my memory might come back with all this handy evidence, and officers will drag you downtown before you can get to a phone. They will be stamping out license plates with your bony ass for the next ten years. I bet the prisoners will love you.”

Carver crossed his arms. “Your lucky night, Ms. Miller.”

Josh smirked. “You get one warning. But we’re not clickbait. If you ever set foot in this school again, if you continue to harass me and the students or try to drag Tyler and me through your slime, I will drop you into the grinder faster than you can say ‘prison food.’” He exhaled slowly.

“She doesn’t deserve it.” Elise sniffed ruefully.

“What about her phone?” Hurley held up a bagged iPhone with a baby blue cover.

“Oh no! Not a chance.” Cilla stood, raising her hands in the cuffs, but Vasquez kept her where she was.

“Excellent.” Josh plucked the baggie out of Hurley’s hands. “We’ll hang on to that.”

Cilla’s eyes bulged. “You will do no such—”

“You’re right. I won’t.” Josh tossed the phone, and Elise caught it with genuine pleasure. “She will. It’s her blood, after all. She’s a witness and an assault victim who’s having trouble remembering. We wouldn’t want you getting any more bright ideas.”

Elise held up the baggie. “You give me one reason, one excuse, and I forward the contents to every station in southern California.”

Cilla’s smug expression faltered. She glanced at the police officers and Principal Carver, who were all eyeing her with distaste. “Crystal clear,” she said through gritted teeth.

Josh turned back to Carver and the police. “Please escort Ms. Miller from the premises. And formally warn her that if there are any further incidents, the school will prosecute her to the full extent of the law. You’ve been warned. Now get out of my sight.”

Hurley and Vasquez each took a pale arm and walked her out.

Josh watched Cilla’s retreating figure until the doors slammed behind her. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted. Somehow it was three in the morning, and he didn’t know how he would ever get to sleep again.

“I’m so sorry, Josh,” Principal Carver said. “Elise.”

“You two saved my bacon tonight. And Tyler’s,” Josh said. “I can’t even explain how grateful I am.”

Elise hugged him. “Oh, hon. What wouldn’t I do for my guy?”

“You did the right thing.” Carver nodded. “Call me if anything else comes up. I’ll be in my office making some notes while everything is fresh. Elise?”

She nodded. “Good idea. And I’m headed to a hospital. You going to be able to get home okay?”

Carver gave Josh’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Try to get some rest.”

Josh managed a tired smile. “I will. Good night.”

“Night, Coach.”

Josh stood alone under the dim lights of the hallway for a long moment. His racing thoughts slowed, but a weight had settled on his chest.

Cilla’s threats echoed in his mind, but he pushed them away. She was grasping at straws, and he wouldn’t give her lies any power over him. Still, he couldn’t ignore the worry that had taken root since Tyler went back to his real life. He knew that trust was fragile, that every detail of their relationship would unfold under a microscope, twisted by sleazoids who preferred scandal to truth.

He sighed and headed outside, the damp night air cool on his neck.

The old track stretched before him, a familiar comfort. How many times had he run that loop with Tyler? He swallowed hard, an ache forming in his throat as he wondered if they’d ever find their way back to that easy stillness again.

For now, Tyler was asleep seventy miles away, blissfully unaware of this ugliness. Josh hoped he’d done the right thing by not pressing charges. As much as he wanted to call and fill Tyler in, he knew he couldn’t ever.

The others wouldn’t mention tonight’s events, would they? He should have warned everyone to keep this quiet. Tyler didn’t need another thing to worry about. They’d understand. He’d make a point of touching base with both of them tomorrow.

Josh peered up at the moon, high in the inky sky. Tonight’s bizarre ruckus had finally started to fade away to the point he could almost believe he’d imagined the whole stupid mess. But no, the bloody oval bite on Elise’s arm, his jockstrap in the baggie, Cilla’s raw swollen eyes glaring at everyone like a trapped rat… he’d never forget those as long as he lived.

He shook his head and took a deep breath of the night air. Tyler mattered more. They’d weathered crises before. This was just one more obstacle in their path, and they’d both faced worse and won. He sighed. All this craziness felt overwhelming because he was still getting used to it. Tyler was a pro. They’d find a way. He’d learn.

He headed for his car, heart lighter than before. The game ahead would not be easy, but he was playing to win.