CHAPTER 2 JOLENE

My phone rings as I pull into my parking spot at the Complex.

I raced over here to cover the story. I've been a sports beat reporter for the last seven years with VG03, the local news channel, and my goal is to get the Aces correspondent position that recently opened up.

When a bunch of players retired after winning the championship at the end of last season, our station's sports reporter who had been covering the Aces for the last twelve years decided he was done, too.

Which is a good thing, to be honest. He was aging out, not a fan of social media, and he didn't have the ability to connect with fans the way I could.

In other words, he's a nice guy and a solid correspondent, but he's old school.

But I'm not the only one after this position. I have two colleagues who want it as much as I do. They're both men. Only fifteen percent of sports reporters are women, and it's time to change that.

There are other things aside from my vagina and estrogen that make me the right fit for the position, though. I know the game probably better than my male counterparts. I'm aggressive and have the ability to get inside information out of coaches, players, and the front office staff. I'm adept at social media and connecting with fans.

So when I heard the Aces had an interview today, I ran over there to get a glimpse at who it might be.

I see it's Sam calling, and I cut the engine and grab my bag before I open my door. I need to vent on this before I head inside the building. Occasionally my temper gets the best of me, and my best friend usually knows how to calm me right down.

I pick up the call as I lock my doors. "Hey, Sam."

"What's the big news today?" she asks with a goofy laugh. She always asks me that since usually I have some sort of gossip.

"I just got to the Complex," I say, and I sigh as anger pulses in my chest again.

I hope the rumor I just heard is a lie, but rumors in this line of work rarely are.

"I'm told they're going to announce who they just interviewed," I say. I keep my voice down when I admit, "Rumor has it it's Lincoln Nash, and if it is, by God, I'll put a stop to it however I can." Travis Woods walks by me as I say the words, and I immediately regret that they came out of my mouth.

If I'm going to get this gig, I need players to respect me. And now he knows I hate Lincoln and the entire Nash family with a bright, burning passion.

"Ew." I can picture her scrunching up her nose as she says it. "I hate him for you. But he is hot. Would it really be the worst thing for the Aces?"

"Yes," I say. "I need to go. Playdate after school still on?"

"Playdate still on, and I'll pick up the boys so you can get your breaking news story."

"You're a lifesaver, Sam. Love you."

"Love you more, JoJo." She cuts the call, and I head into the press room just as Jack Dalton slides into a chair to field some questions.

Perfect timing.

I take it all in, drawing in a deep breath as I glance around the room. This could be my beat, and the thought of snagging the Aces sends a bolt of excitement through me.

I glance around at the other reporters. I spot colleagues from all the major news channels and a few familiar faces from the newspapers, and sitting on the other side in the front row is Ryan Rivera…one of the two other reporters vying for the same position I am.

I sink down into my chair in the back of the room, hoping to make myself invisible. Ryan is just cocky enough that if he thinks he's the only one here, he'll take his time writing up his report. Meanwhile, I'll slide mine into the sports editor's inbox and voila, I'll get the position first.

Or something along those lines.

I start the voice recorder on my phone in case I miss anything, and I take out a pen and paper to jot down some notes.

Jack opens up the impromptu press conference with a few words about how the team is optimistic they'll have a solid announcement soon, and then he opens it up for a few questions. I like that he wants to keep the press in the loop of what's happening at the Complex. The old owner wasn't like that, but Jack has a good relationship with the press after playing for many years.

"Can you tell us who you interviewed today?" someone up in front asks first.

"We just had a great conversation with Lincoln Nash."

Lincoln Fucking Nash.

I knew it. That rumor was true after all.

"How did it go?" I yell out from the back, forgetting my pledge to sink down quietly in the back so Ryan didn't spot me.

Oops.

See? My temper sometimes gets the best of me. At least I didn't ask what I really wanted to ask, which was something along the lines of how terrible of an asshole was he or how quickly did you kick him out of the interview.

"Jolene, good to see you again," Jack says, and I nod politely, keeping my face schooled that he actually knows my name. I spot a few of the male reporters glance over at me, and I know what they're thinking.

He knows my name because I'm a woman.

He probably doesn't know the names of most of the men in here, but he knows me.

They'll assume I'm sleeping with him, and if I get the job, it'll be because I used my pussy to get there. I hate that assumption with everything inside me. I will prove them wrong.

He knows who I am because I covered a big event for him a couple years ago, and the fact that he knows who I am—the fact that he already trusts me—could bode well for me snagging the open correspondent position.

"It was a great conversation, but we have more interviews to conduct over the next few days," he says.

Other people ask more questions, and I scribble my notes as I go.

There's not much to say here. Jack isn't giving anything away, but he's had to become an expert at dodging questions over the years.

Rivera already knows I'm here. I may as well try to dig in for more since the others in the room aren't asking the right questions and I need to know if they're leaning toward Lincoln or someone else.

"How will you decide who you're going to hire?"

I hear a few laughs and jeers at my question, but I don't care. There are always laughs and jeers from the male reporters aimed at the females in the room.

"We'll use a number of factors to determine the final candidate," Jack says. "How well he knows the game, strategy, motivational techniques. But above all that, I think you just get a feel for a person when you meet them, you know? His presence. How he'll fit into the culture we've established here. How he plans to rebuild a team that's coming off such a successful season."

"Do you think you've already found him?" I press.

He draws in a breath at the question then purses his lips a little as he crafts the right answer rather than the real answer I'm looking for.

But the way his eyes dart around the room tells me that yes, they've found him.

And my gut tells me…it's Lincoln Nash.

I need to do something to stop this.

"I think we've met with a number of potentials, and we still have a few more interviews to conduct before we're able to announce anything further."

Someone else asks another question, but I'm still sitting here trying to figure out how to get to Jack Dalton to tell him the truth about Lincoln and his family.

He doesn't deserve the position. The whole Nash family is untrustworthy. They're manipulators and liars, and because they're so slick with what they do, everybody worships the ground they walk on.

Except the Bailey family.

And I will do what I have to do to expose the truth. After all, I'm a reporter.

That's my job.