Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

brADEN

THREE WEEKS LATER

As I approached Vicki's office door, I groaned while hitting the block button on yet another email containing an unsolicited nude picture. This was getting ridiculous. Over the past few weeks, ever since my arrest, the emails had increased from once a week or so to almost every day.

I was almost at the point where I wanted to hire a private investigator to find out who was doing this so I could take real steps to make them stop. But I was just reluctant to take that step since it wasn't like this person could physically do anything to me from behind a screen. If I'd been getting things delivered to my doorstep, it would have been a different story, but thankfully, that hadn't happened.

"Braden," Vicki crooned as she came out from behind her desk and tried to hug me. "It's so good to see you. I'm so sorry about your uncle, sweetheart. How are you holding up?"

I huffed out a sigh as I looked at her long blonde hair, green eyes, and the fire-engine red dress that hugged her petite frame just a little too tight, making her tits practically spill out of the top.

If this woman's horrible personality hadn't been such a turn-off, I might have actually been attracted to her. But the second she opened her mouth, anything appealing about her vanished, and all I could focus on was the grating, entitled attitude that oozed from every pore of her being. Even when it seemed like she was being nice or personable, it was beyond evident that she was always working an angle, trying to figure out how to turn the situation to her advantage.

"I'm fine," I muttered as I twisted out of her arms and sat in the chair across from hers. "So, you called. I'm here. What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk a little about how we can salvage your image in the press," she said as she walked back around the desk and sat down. "I'm sure you know Jeff Hollister has been milking your little spat at the bar for all it's worth. Between that and…well, the reputation you have with women, you're pretty much public enemy number one right now. But they don't know you like I do, so I want to figure out a way to let the rest of the world see the real Braden Hicks."

I groaned quietly. This bitch didn't know me and never would, because she'd never bothered to find out the first thing about me. She'd devoted all her energy to throwing herself at me every chance she got instead. Honestly, it bordered on unprofessional, and I'd almost fired her a bunch of times over it, but unless she did something insanely inappropriate or was negligent in some way, I was basically trapped in my contract with her for another year.

But she was right. Jeff had been playing up the incident as much as he could, and they'd been a pain in my ass ever since my arrest. Thankfully, because I had a kickass lawyer and this was my first offense, I hadn't had to serve any time in jail, but I was under a microscope now. I'd had to pay a fine to the city, plus another one to the League, and the League had also put me in mandatory anger management. And because the media loved drama and gossip, this one incident had tanked my image. I wouldn't have believed something that simple would be all it took to turn the entire country against a person if it hadn't happened to me.

"You're right," I admitted. "So, what do you suggest?"

"How do you feel about picking a charity or two to support with donations, public events, and such? I think letting the world see that you have causes you're passionate about would really help."

"Sure. Any organization I want, or do you have a list you want me to pick from?" I sighed.

It wasn't that I didn't want to do charity work. I just didn't like the idea of doing it as a publicity stunt. Charity was supposed to be something that you did out of the kindness of your heart, because you believed in the cause, not something you did to get Brownie points with the media.

"This isn't a joke, Braden," Vicki pouted.

"I know it's not. I just don't like the idea of using something that should be done out of kindness as a way to suck up to the press."

"It's not sucking up," she chuckled, flashing me a coy smile. "It's just letting people see a different side of you. Giving them a glimpse at who you are behind that football uniform. Aren't there any causes you're passionate about?"

Well, when she put it that way, it didn't sound so bad. And there was , in fact, one cause I was very passionate about because I knew people who had been personally affected by it.

"Yeah, there's one. Well, two, but they sort of go hand-in-hand. Are there any good charities that support domestic abuse and sexual assault survivors? Like places that help the victims get out of bad situations and give them resources and stuff to get back on their feet if they need it?"

Her eyes got as big as dinner plates. "You…you're serious? That's…I didn't expect that."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Shouldn't a publicist have known things like what causes her clients were passionate about?

"Yeah, I am," I said, forcing myself to keep it professional. "Two of my best friends are survivors, and they're the strongest women I know. I'd love to get involved with an organization that helps people like them."

Vicki looked like she was mulling something over in her head for about ten seconds before a smile crossed her face.

"It's great that you have something you're so passionate about. And I actually think it's a good PR move for you too, because it'll show that you respect women."

"Great," I said. "Are there any organizations you recommend, or do you want me to do some research and find one on my own?"

"Oh, I've got a few I can get you in touch with. But there's one problem. If you're going to do this, I think we need to show that you're turning over a new leaf in your personal life too. Are you…well, is there someone you'd want to take to some functions with you? Maybe go out on some dates with outside of just the functions so it doesn't seem like it's just for the publicity?"

It took me a few seconds to realize what she was saying. And then it was all I could do not to laugh out loud.

This woman was actually trying to tell me that I needed to find a fake girlfriend to flaunt in front of the press in order to show the public that I respected women. But wasn't pretending to date some chick as a publicity stunt just as bad as doing the no-strings-attached thing? I didn't really see how putting on a show for the press was respecting anyone .

Not to mention, this seemed like a horrible idea on so many levels. All it would take was one little thing going wrong, and the whole fa?ade would completely unravel and I'd end up with even more egg on my face than I had now.

"Wait. You…you want me to find a fake girlfriend? Are you serious?"

"I mean…yeah. Does it really sound so horrible?"

"And what happens if the press finds out it's all for show?"

Again, it looked like she was lost in thought. After several long beats, I swore I could actually see a lightbulb turning on over her head as she gasped and huge grin spread across her face.

"I know! I'll do it!" she exclaimed.

For just a second, the wiring in my brain short-circuited. And then the laughter I'd been trying so desperately to hold in bubbled up to the surface and I started guffawing, doubling over in the chair and barely able to catch a breath.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"You've…gotta be…kidding me," I wheezed, slapping my knee as I tried to get my laughter under control.

"Why not? You know I won't tell anyone."

When I finally looked at her, I could have sworn she actually looked a little upset.

"Vicki, we have zero chemistry," I pointed out, still chuckling. "No one would buy it."

And I would rather walk barefoot across hot coals than ever share breathing space with you outside of this office.

Standing up, she walked around to sit on the front of her desk, then ran a red-manicured nail down my arm with what I guessed was supposed to be a seductive smile…but it just made her look more like the snake she was. I jerked away from her touch, and a flash of something that almost looked like pain or disappointment came across her face. But before I could identify the emotion, it was gone and the Cheshire Cat smile was back again.

"We just need to let them take some pictures of us, baby," she purred. "I'm sure we can pull it off for that long."

What the actual fuck was she playing at?

This wasn't the first time Vicki had tried to come on to me, but she'd never been this aggressive about it before. I'd tried letting her down gently, but obviously she wasn't getting the hint.

"Do not call me ‘baby,'" I growled, narrowing my eyes at her. "And the answer is absolutely, unequivocally no . I'm not dating someone I work with, pretend or otherwise. Plus, what happens if we're spotted out and about when it's not staged? If someone figures out we're just faking it for the cameras, that'll make the situation worse."

She let out a quiet sigh, looking like I'd just run over her puppy. "I guess you're right. Well, I have a friend who works with several young actresses. I suppose I could get in touch with him and see if the two of us can find someone to accompany you to public events. You don't have to confirm or deny anything with the press. Just tell them you're spending time together and seeing what happens."

Nope. No fucking way was I going to go on dates with some random celebrity just to put on a show for the press. I hated that idea almost as much as I hated the thought of going out with Vicki. In the year I'd been playing pro football, I'd met my fair share of actors and musicians, and from what I'd seen, most of them were high-maintenance assholes.

I sort of got where Vicki was coming from, and honestly, I didn't mind finding a girl to start spending time with and bringing to public functions. Maybe a college student who I could help out with tuition and living expenses in exchange for going on a few dates. Hell, who knew? Maybe I'd actually end up liking the girl and it could turn into a real friendship.

But I wasn't about to let Vicki fucking Preston set me up with someone she deemed worthy. Especially when her number one choice was…herself.

"Don't do that. I'll find someone on my own," I told her.

She blew out a long breath. "I'd really prefer it if you'd let me find someone for you. We need someone who knows how this game is played."

" My life isn't a fucking game, Vicki!" I exclaimed. "I'll do what you want. I'll find someone to pretend to date. But I'm going to do it on my terms, not yours."

"Whatever," she grumbled. "If you're determined to find someone on your own, you need to make sure this girl signs a non-disclosure agreement, and you need to make sure you put in a clause that allows you to sue her if she violates it. As you pointed out, we can't let the press get wind that this isn't real, so she needs to have an incentive to keep your arrangement to herself."

I rolled my eyes. "I know that. I'm not a complete idiot. I'll call and let you know where we're going on our first date so you can make sure a few photographers are there to take pictures."

"Fine," she huffed out.

"Anything else?" I stood up, ready to be done with this bizarre meeting.

She shook her head. "I think that covers it. I'll email you the contact info for the charities by the end of the day."

Vicki walked out from behind her desk, hugging me again. Once again, I jerked out of her embrace, and then I walked out of her office without so much as a goodbye. Heading for the back door of the office, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up to cover my face and ducked my head down for good measure. As I speed-walked to my Escalade, I couldn't help but notice the bright red Tesla parked a few spaces down. Tacky, just like everything else about my publicist's personality.

"Siri, call Malachi," I told my phone.

"Calling Malachi," the robotic voice announced.

The line rang a couple of times before Malachi answered.

"Hey, man. How'd it go with Vicki?" came his voice over the Bluetooth speaker in my car.

"You're not gonna fucking believe this shit," I muttered. "You up for a workout?"

"Your place?"

"Yep. I'll be home in half an hour."

"Sounds good. I'm on my way," he told me.

"So, let me get this straight," Malachi laughed, trying to catch his breath as we took a water break. "Vicki wants you to find a fake girlfriend to take to public functions for the charities you want to support…and she actually volunteered herself for the job?"

"Yep," I muttered, then guzzled half my bottle of water in one gulp. "I sort of get where she's coming from, but seriously, I wouldn't date that woman – real or not – even if she and I were the last two people on the planet."

He snorted. "No fucking joke, man."

"Is she like this with everyone she represents?" I wondered. "Because…I don't know, man. I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin."

"I can't speak for anyone else, but she's never behaved like that with me," he said with a shrug. "Maybe she was just trying to show you that she thought she could play the part?"

"Maybe," I sighed. "I don't know. Anyway, when I kept telling her no, her next suggestion was getting in touch with another friend of hers who represents a bunch of young actresses and working with him to find someone for me to pretend to date. I told her I'd find someone on my own. I honestly don't mind finding someone to take on a few dates in public places and let the vultures take some pictures, but I want to do it on my terms. Maybe find a college student who needs some help with tuition or something."

Malachi went silent as he stared off into space, like he was lost in thought. When he didn't say anything for about thirty seconds, I broke the awkward silence.

"What is it, man?"

He took a deep breath. "I know someone who needs help in a bad way. Morgan's best friend, Dani. I just don't know how she'd feel about this."

"What's her story?" I wondered.

"Her older sister died from a postpartum infection about a month ago, so she ended up with sole custody of her newborn nephew. She's pre-med, and she's having a hard time finding people to take care of Isaac while she's in school. Her friends and neighbors have been…unreliable at best. Not to mention, her student loans are barely enough for her to live on, let alone support a newborn baby with."

Fuck me. That poor girl. I'd never even met her, and my heart was breaking for her. I couldn't imagine how hard it had been having the responsibility of a newborn baby just thrust on her like that, and juggling pre-medical school on top of it? She had to be barely hanging on.

"Shit," I muttered.

"Yeah. And get this. The father? He's a pro football player, and he wants nothing to do with either of them. He had all her calls forwarded to his publicist, tried to throw money at her to get an abortion, and then threatened to file a harassment and defamation suit if she told anyone who he was or tried to get in touch with him again."

"You're fucking joking," I practically growled.

What kind of an asshole forwarded a girl's number to his damn publicist and refused to take responsibility for a child he'd helped create? I might not have wanted a relationship right now, but if I'd ended up getting a girl pregnant, I damn sure would have respected whatever she wanted to do and done right by that kid.

"Nope. I wish I knew who it was because I'd make sure the whole fucking League knew, but she's too scared he'll follow through with the lawsuit to tell me. I paid for the funeral and hospital bills, and I've been helping a little bit where she'll let me, but she always says she doesn't feel right about taking money from me. But maybe…" he trailed off.

"She might see this differently," I finished for him. "Because she'd be doing something for me too."

He nodded. "I don't know if she'll go for it, but I know she feels like she's drowning right now. Just…you can't be a dick to her, man. She's taking Amara's death hard. She can't handle any more heartache."

Amara .

Why the fuck did that name sound so familiar?

"Despite my serial nonmonogamy, I'm not an asshole," I chuckled, brushing it off. "If Dani's up for it, I'd love to meet her and see if we can work something out."

"Okay. I'll have Morgan talk to her," he said, cracking a smile.