Because of that stupid article, the coach decided I should skip practice a few days, so I don`t have to go in today.
Surprisingly enough, after getting out of the shower and feeling slightly more human, what hits me isn`t the hit my career took but how fucking empty my house feels.
When I decided to buy a house, I specifically sought out a smaller place. I`ve always lived alone, so I never saw the need to buy a huge place, and I never felt lonely in it.
I`ve always been perfectly fine living alone; I actually preferred it that way.
Right now, this place that`s always felt like home to me feels cold and empty, and I know why. Its because Sophie isn`t here.
Her not being here is hitting me way harder than what they`re saying about me as a football player.
Yesterday, when Hoggins came and dropped his bombshell, it was my worst fear come to life. I`ve been afraid this would happen for the past two months, and, as always, you can`t escape what you fear the most.
If I had to describe what I felt yesterday, the best word to use would be numb. I felt numb, frozen, unable to react in any rational way, but today the shock has passed somewhat.
Today my old fear of losing what I`ve worked so hard for all my life has been replaced by my fear of living a life without Sophie in it.
The more I think about everything, the less I believe Sophie could have done what Hoggins says she did, but I know myself well enough that I can say that I need to be one hundred percent sure.
The only logical course of action that I can see is to talk to the guy who wrote the article. The team owners, Hoggins, and my agent would probably throw a fit if they knew what I plan to do, but I don`t give a damn.
I need to know who it was that told him about the Fentanyl; I need him to confirm that it wasn`t Sophie because even if my heart says she wouldn`t do that, I need to erase any doubt.
I`ve already called Simon and asked him to come with me. His expertise at bullshiting might come in handy.
„So, do you know who this guy is? Have you ever done an interview with him before?”
Simon is driving since I don`t want to risk driving with the killer headache I still have.
„I`ve never met him before, but it was easy enough to get a hold of his email. I`ve messaged him, and he agreed to meet with me for a chat.”
„He`ll probably do an article about it, Max. I mean, I doubt he`s agreed to meet with you out of the goodness of his heart.”
I snort at that.
„Of course he wants to get an article out of it. That`s why I brought you with me, to make sure we can get the information out of him without giving him any more ammunition.”
The look he gives me is decisively impressed.
„That`s a very good plan for a hungover person.”
„Yeah, I`m a regular boy-wonder.”
„You afraid of what he`ll tell you?”
„Hell, yes. Either way, it`s bad. I mean, if he tells me Sophie is the one who talked, it will break my heart, I`ll be devastated but if he tells me it wasn`t her...”
I trail off because I don`t even want to think about it. If it wasn`t her then I fucked up in a bad way. A really bad way, and I`m not sure I can make up for it.
„If it wasn`t her, then you`re going to have to do some serious groveling.”
„That, my friend, is an understatement.”
◆◆◆
We meet Harry Jiston, the guy who wrote the article, in a coffee shop near the stadium. He`s a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard that smells heavily of cigarette smoke. He`s a walking cliche.
„Max Kingston, a pleasure to meet you. I`ve been trying to get an interview with you for the past two years, shame it finally happened in these circumstances .”
He looks very pleased with himself, so I doubt he gives a damn about the circumstances.
„I wish I could say it`s a pleasure to meet you, but I`m sure you`ll understand you`re not exactly my favorite person right now.”
Jiston makes a what-you-gonna-do gesture with his hands.
„I`m only doing my job; I`m sure you understand.”
I`m about to tell him what I think about his job when Simon steps in.
„Mister Kingston understands you were only doing your job, though some of the information in the article were not exactly correct.”
„I`m sorry, who are you?”
„My name is Simon Masters; I am mister Kingston`s attorney.”
I barely manage not to show my surprise. It would have been nice to have a head`s up though, Simon old chap.
„His attorney?” Jiston doesn't look so friendly anymore.Funny how that happens when someone mentions a lawyer.
„Yes. I`m sure you`ll understand that mister Kingston needs to know the identity of your informant and we were hoping you would be so kind as to help us in that matter. I`m sure you`ll have no problem in helping us, but in case you would decide, for whatever reason, not to do so, we will, of course, be forced to undertake legal action against you.”
Now, normally, I`m sure this particular tactic wouldn`t work, not with a real journalist anyway, but Jiston is very obviously not a real journalist. That little online rag he works for doesn't hire real journalists, so he`s a wannabe who gets paid a few bucks for pretending to know what he`s talking about.
„You can`t sue me,” he says, but it`s clear as day he isn`t as sure of himself as he pretends.
„Of course we can sue you, but we would prefer not to. I mean, it would be in both parties' best interest if the matter would be solved amicably. All you have to do is tell us the name of your informant, and we part ways as
