Authors: Jo Frances
Chapter Three
Chase
It had been a little over a month since that first meeting in Steve’s office, and here he was again, only this time to discuss his immediate future. At the height of the crisis, the meetings were held in the conference room to accommodate all the consultants and lawyers. Now it was just Steve and Matty. Chase thought that was probably a good thing.
The details of his new life---one that didn’t involve basketball---were beginning to crystallize. He was no longer playing for the Waves. Because of the charge leveled against him, the team was allowed to release him from his contract, which Patton promptly did. The league was suspending him for a full year. This was a stiffer sentence than the ten game suspension Steve fought for, but much less than the five year ban the Commissioner wanted.
There were two things against him: absolute proof that he met with the men in question, thanks to the hotel’s surveillance video. Then, two, the hard-to-explain fact that he missed four free throws in a row when he usually averaged 75% on the free throw line.
The only thing that saved him was that despite a team of forensic accountants going through his finances, there was no proof he had received any money, or benefitted in any way from losing the game.
That, and the high-priced legal team Steve Green had put together who relentlessly pounded their message to every media outlet they could:
“While our client is one of the most physically gifted athletes playing basketball today, the truth is, he is still only a twenty-one year old with little life experience outside of the gym. He was lured to the meeting under the pretense that it involved a family member. He left within five minutes of entering---which, I want to emphasize, is also shown on the tape. Finally, despite an exhaustive search by the federal government, there was absolutely no evidence that Mr. Reston benefitted in any way, shape or form, financially or otherwise in this matter.”
It was a good message, and one that resonated with the public. Steve Green used variations of the “where’s the money?” theme in all his interviews to great effect. On a Sunday morning news show, he would argue, “the government can find a few hundred dollars of unreported income on any of our tax returns. But they have not been able to find a single dollar of unreported income from Chase Reston’s finances, and believe me they have looked. Where is the money he was supposedly paid for point shaving? This is nothing but a witch hunt, and every American should be outraged at this Federal overreach because they could be the next target.”
In courtside interviews watched by fans, he would simply shrug and say, “the Feds couldn’t find any evidence of a payoff. So I request that they drop this case and let Chase get back on the court.”
The bloggers and social media weighed in, and the consensus was that he had been set up. But why he missed those free throws and why he met with those people in the first place cast a shadow that wouldn’t go away
Eventually, the League closed its case against Chase, but the government would not work as fast. It was just a matter of time; a mere formality, Steve told him, but until he was officially cleared, there was still that chance…
“So in other words, I can’t talk to anyone yet, right?” Chase asked.
Each day had been like hell for him since, but the thought of Jamie had been what kept him going. Throughout the entire investigation, Chase had done everything asked of him. He moved to Manhattan temporarily to be closer to his “team”. He was calm, focused and articulate. He spoke so convincingly about his innocence that the public was overwhelmingly on his side.
What gave him strength to face down the investigators was the hope that the nightmare would soon end and he could go back to the life he had before with Jamie. Basketball or not, he just wanted to be with her and he knew she was waiting for him. Now Steve was telling him that wasn’t going to happen for another year or two. “Another year…or two until I can be with my girlfriend again?! What the hell, that’s a fucking life sentence!”
“That’s not even anything you should be talking about, Chase.” Steve, always uncomfortable with anything to do with emotions, wanted to move quickly to another subject. “Listen, now that the legal stuff is behind us, we have to work on rehabilitating your image.”
Chase had had enough. “What image?” he asked. “I’m just someone who used to be a basketball player. No one cares what I do.”
“You really want to think that?” Steve challenged him. “If this happened ten years from now, then yeah, you WERE a basketball player. But you’re just at the start of your career---I don’t even think you’ve reached your peak as a player yet---so unless you want to take what little is left of your money and coach high school ball somewhere, you’d better stop thinking about something other than your little fucking broken heart---”
“Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?” Chase hadn’t moved, but Matty jumped up and stood between them as if breaking up a fight. “Hey, guys! We’re all really tired here. Let’s take a break and---”
“No.” Chase sighed wearily. “It’s fine. Let’s hear it.”
“You sure?” Matty pressed.
“Go.” Chase had grown to trust Steve during this process. His agent may be a self-serving prick, but he was damn good at his job. He didn’t even have to like Chase in order to work hard for him. Chase was part of his team and Steve Green didn’t like to lose.
As if nothing had happened, Steve began in a pleasant, almost enthusiastic voice. “You’ve gotten a lot of press lately, so your brand is high right now. It may not be good, but it’s high. We have to capitalize on that and turn those negatives into positives.”
Matty shifted and turned to him. “Chase, you’re a hot, sexy athlete. Your social media numbers are as high as anyone else in the NBA, and it’s broken down almost evenly between men and women. Usually for athletes, it’s about 70% men following them. Which means that, unlike other athletes, you can sell more than sneakers. We may not be able to do anything about the basketball suspension, but we can use this time to try and market you, get you out there so that at the end of the year, you’ll be more famous than anyone else that’s playing basketball.”
Chase looked at her skeptically. “Why? A team isn’t going to offer me more money because I’m famous.”
Steve waved his hand dismissively. “That’s right. But. Shoe companies, car companies, clothing companies---they offer endorsement deals. Not to the best basketball players, necessarily, but the most well known ones.”
Chase remained doubtful. He was aware of his strengths and limitations. He knew, because a nude picture of him as a Greek warrior put him on the cover of a sports magazine that he had a good physique. He knew that his best feature was his hooded light brown eyes---bedroom eyes, they had been called. But he also knew that he didn’t have the square-jawed, handsome look that graced the sports billboards in Times Square. Instead of admitting that he simply argued, “maybe being famous works in sports like women’s tennis…but in basketball, you gotta be able to play.”
“Why don’t you let us worry about that,” Matty countered. “I mean, what do you have to lose?”
Steve’s laugh broke the ice. “Shit, Matty, why don’t you tell him what you really think?”
Something occurred to Chase. “You said ‘what little money I have left’”, he said to Steve. “Is that…is that true? Am I out of money?” Suddenly he had images of himself as a child, hearing his mother pleading with the landlord for more time to pay the rent, or of suddenly being plunged in the darkness when the electricity was shut off.
Matty and Steve exchanged looks. “You’ve been good with your money, Chase,” Steve said kindly. “No entourages to support, no drug habit, and no god damn baby mamas taking you to court every week. But this thing wasn’t easy to beat…so, yeah, you’re a little low on funds and you gotta work, bud.”
He came from nothing, and if he didn’t fight, he would return to nothing. The memory of the little boy who sat in the dark all alone, terrified, waiting for him mother to come home, took over Chase. Except now there was a difference. Back then, he cried for his mother to make him feel safe. The irony was, it was his mother who caused that to happen by not paying the electricity bills, his mother who had spent the money on something else. Today, he knew what he didn’t know back then---that he was the only one who could help himself. He sat up. “I’m ready to work, then.”
The first step in the rehabilitation plan was increased visibility. The public relations agency was brought back, only this time they sent a publicist and not someone who specialized in damage control.
Helene Kehoe was an older, female version of Steve. Tough, and easily the smartest person in any room she walked into, she had Chase figured out within fifteen minutes. “He needs to date an actress,” she proclaimed. “He’s got scandal, so he needs to go out with someone and cause an even bigger scandal, so everyone forgets the first scandal.”
Matty nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe a reality TV girl?”
“Nah, they’re garbage. Chase is a nice boy; he needs someone classy.” Helene snapped her fingers. “An A-list actress. Maybe someone who’s older,” she said as if discovering the cure for cancer. “That’s it!”
“Sorry, no.” Chase found his voice as they turned to him in surprise. “I mean, with all due respect, you guys are talking like my pimps.”
As he expected, this was not something Helene found insulting. “What, you don’t want to date a beautiful actress? What red-blooded American boy doesn’t want to date someone like…ah…Amy Weatherby?”
The name sounded familiar, and when he finally made the connection, Chase blushed. When he was in junior high school Amy Weatherby had starred in a bunch of movies where she played the beautiful but slutty cheerleader. In his fantasies, Chase had probably lost his virginity to her.
Helene cackled as she watched the expressions dance across his face. “Aha! I knew it! Now, she’s a little older now, probably thirty-something---”
“She’s that old? I thought she was my age.”
“Chase, darling, she was your age ten years ago.”
Chase shook his head. “No! I mean, I was just asking. I don’t care about that----but I just can’t. I have a girlfriend.”
Helene turned to Matty. “Oh, he has a girlfriend,” she said mockingly. “That’s sweet.”
Without taking her eyes off Chase, Matty said, “Helene, can you give us a minute?”
Before the door fully closed, Chase held up a hand to cut Matty off. “Look, I did whatever you wanted me to, but this is fucking crazy. I don’t want to go out with anyone else, and I wouldn’t hurt Jamie like that.”
Matty nodded. “Chase, I know--”
“You know, we broke up once, and when we got back together again, I made her promise that she wouldn’t leave me again. And she won’t. And I won’t.”
“That’s right. She won’t. Believe it or not, I like Jamie---”
“Then why are you trying to break us up?”
Matty looked genuinely pained. “Ah shit, Chase. You think I don’t know that you’re probably one of a handful of guys in the League that wouldn’t cheat on their girl? But that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to you and tell you that this isn’t fair. That girl loves you, Chase. And she will wait for you for the rest of her life. Which is why you have to let her go. “At his expression, she continued. “Let me ask you something. How bad do you feel right now? How bad do you miss her?” Seeing her answer in his face, she continued. “You feel this bad and you know what’s going on and why you’re doing it. But she doesn’t know anything. She only knows that today is a day that you didn’t call her, just like yesterday was. And she’ll wake up tomorrow and hope that----”
“Stop.” He didn’t want to hear anymore.
“You have to let her go, Chase. You don’t know when it’s safe to talk to her again.”
Chase felt himself breaking down. “Just…stop.” Matty put her arms around him as if he were a small child that needed comforting. He allowed himself to cry then. In the cold, sterile office of his agent, Chase allowed himself to be held while he wept over everything he had lost.
Chapter Four
After that evening in his agent’s office, Chase became Matty’s pet project, guarding him even from her boss. Steve wanted Chase’s first public appearance to be the Sports Networks Award Show (called the SNAS’sies) but Matty shot down the idea, arguing that he would be a pariah among the owners and players.
They went back and forth about this, with Steve arguing that in previous years even convicted felons received a warm welcome from their sports brethren but Matty held firm. “He needs to be seen in other venues,” she argued. When Helene sided with her, Steve had to relent.
His first appearance, then, was a black tie society event, where Manhattan socialites mingled with figures from the entertainment world. Helene coached him on what to do next. “You’ll meet Amy Weatherby there. She’ll know to expect you, and that’s where you guys will meet.”
This made no sense to Chase. “Why do I have to pretend to meet her? Why can’t you just introduce us, or something?”
Helene patted his hand. “You are a baby, aren’t you?” She exchanged looks with Matty. “If I introduced you, what would you tell the press when you two start dating? Oh, I was set up by my publicist?”
“Well…what if she doesn’t like me?” This wasn’t false modesty on his part. With the objectivity of an athlete, Chase knew both the strengths and weaknesses of his physical appearance. He knew he wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense. His light brown eyes were non-descript, his curly brown hair had to be kept closely cropped, and while his nose and teeth were straight, they looked out of place on his large face. But from the time he was fourteen, he knew his body was something both men and women admired, and like a self-serving prophecy it gave him a confidence and swagger that was hard to resist. But it was one thing to have college girls and female fans throwing themselves at you. It was another thing to catch the interest of someone who was a movie star, and lusted after in her own right, instantly recognizable all over the world.
“Chase!” Matty scolded him. “We are not trying to fix you up! She needs the publicity---”
“Well, she also needs to have a boyfriend,” Helene clucked. “These poor actresses, so beautiful and rich but they can’t find anyone to stay with them---”
Matty sighed. “She needs the publicity of going out with a celebrity, but she doesn’t want to go out with actors anymore.” She paused dramatically. “She says she wants someone who isn’t bisexual.”
“What the fuck?---”
“Darling, it doubles her competition.”
“A chick with high standards. Glad she didn’t want a vegan.” He couldn’t resist.
“Don’t be rude. Now say thank you to your Aunt Matty and Aunt Helene.”
The next step was meeting with a stylist. Because of Jamie, Chase was at least a little familiar with stylists. What he wasn’t prepared for was meeting three of them at once in a men’s designer showroom. Eventually, he left with a new wardrobe; which he had to admit looked like something he would have picked out for himself…if he had better taste, spent a lot of money and dressed to show off his build. More importantly, he was now the owner of a tuxedo, fitted just for him. Before today, he thought a tux was some weird fitting, strange smelling outfit you rented for prom. But this tux was different. In this tux he felt like James Bond.
As the chauffeured Suburban whisked him back to his studio, Chase looked over at Matty and Helene, who were both admiring his new clothes.
Matty took one of the items from a sea of bags. “Love this vest,” she sighed. “It was just genius to put him in it.”
“Hmm,” Helene agreed. “Like a hip hop gentleman farmer.”
Chase wasn’t sure what that was, so he just ignored the conversation and looked out of the window. He would never understand the references fashion people made.
In between swipes of her lipstick, Maddy asked, “Helene, where do you want us to drop you off?”
“Drop me off at my apartment. I gotta get ready. Chase, I’m gonna pick you up at 7:30. Are you gonna need any help getting dressed?”
Biting off a sarcastic remark, Chase simply shook his head. After a day with these two women, he knew they actually did see him as a toddler. “I’m good.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, so Helene turned to Matty and talked as if he weren’t there. “All the same, I’ll get to Chase’s apartment early and see if he put the tux on right. At least we don’t have to worry about hair and makeup with this one.”
The Founders Ball was a huge event, but not to anyone in Chase’s circle---except Jamie. Shortly after they got back together last year, a huge box was sent to her house. Inside was an elaborate brocade box with an invitation. Unfortunately, the date was for her dad’s 55th birthday, and she was flying home with her brother to celebrate. Jamie smiled at the box ruefully before putting it away. “These invitations are, like, gold” she said. “I’d better not tell anyone from my agency I’ve been invited, they’ll make me go.”
He didn’t understand what it meant back then, but based on how hard Helene had worked just to get him invited, he realized that Jamie had given up a lot in not going. When he asked her about it, she would only say that she was being invited because of her short lived relationship with Sean Foley, the rock star. Now here he was, not just preparing to go, but on his way to meet someone he was probably going to have sex with before the night was over.
The SUV slowed to a halt in front of his building, and Chase got out absentmindedly nodding to whatever it was Matty was telling him before he shut the door in her face.
Three hours later, after he had buzzed her inside his apartment, Helene walked into Chase’s bedroom as he was getting dressed. Before he could protest, Helene waved him off. “Oh for god’s sake, you can take your clothes off in a locker room full of cameras, but not in front of a middle aged woman?” She looked him up and down. “You look good, sweetie. Amy’s going to be very happy. Did I tell you she’s a good gift giver?”
As they pulled up to the entrance, Chase took in the crowd. It was the about the same size as the ones that greeted the players before every home game, but instead of young kids or rabid fans waiting for autographs, this was a group of mostly women.
Then he noticed something else: there were a lot of photographers out. In fact, they had taken up the area behind the barricades, and still more were flanking the red carpet. He turned to Helene.
“Why are there so many photographers here? This is just some kind of party, right?”
She looked past his shoulders at the upcoming red carpet. “Sweetie, this isn’t quite the NBA finals of society events, but it’s pretty damn close. It’s the----” she struggled to find an analogy.
“It’s the first round playoffs?” Chase offered.
“Exactly! And you, my dear, are about to take one for the team.”
Chase nodded encouragingly. “Good one, Helene.”
When the car door opened, Chase made sure he had his public face on; a face he had perfected in the mirror during the interviews: open, confident and relaxed. Helene walked in front of him, towards a young woman dressed in black, carrying a clipboard and wearing a headset. “Chase Reston, basketball player, formerly with the Orange County Waves,” before she could finish, the Headset girl was already speaking into her mouthpiece, telegraphing the information up ahead. Chase watched as the next Headset girl up the chain moved a celebrity along, then announced the name of the next one to the awaiting photographers.
Helene fussed with her shawl. “Ahh, crap, Jennifer Burke is in front of us,” she said. “Her movie was number one in the box office this weekend, we have a long wait ahead of us.” Apparently a long wait was two minutes, because it didn’t take long before Chase found himself facing the bank of photographers, Helene discreetly off to the side, making sure the various people holding clipboards were getting his name right.
Somewhere in the crowd a female screamed, and a voice yelled out, “Chase I love you!” After hearing that, he allowed himself to relax. Someone here knew who he was. He waved and smiled sincerely in their direction, eliciting more screams.
Inside the museum, decorated to look like an ancient Egyptian temple, the scene was of controlled, but frenetic activity. Chase felt out of place. The people were much older than even his mother and looked none too pleased at having his hulking frame standing next to them. He looked with interest at the few young women standing there until he realized they were the bored trophy wives and not the daughters of these men, as he had first thought. Helene gently led him up the stairs. “Those are the fuddy-duddies,” she explained, “The board members and the Old Guard. All the money goes to them and their causes but they act as if they’re doing us a favor by letting us be here. Let’s go upstairs and meet some fun people.”
Helene was right. On the upper floors were the celebrities he had expected. There were several sports figures there, but they were superstars, and at a much higher level than he was. In their eyes, he wouldn’t be their equal; he would be a fan. And Chase had too much pride to subject himself to that. When Helene gestured towards them, he shook his head slightly, and they moved on.
Which didn’t mean he wasn’t recognized. Chase began to feel relaxed as more and more people; women, mostly, began talking to him. He was amazed to discover that he didn’t even have to move; that they came to him. He was used to this, in a way, but from strangers---not from people who had TV shows or movies he recognized. He was soon deep in conversation with a reality show actress; ironically, the one Matty thought he should go out with. Larissa’s entire face looked as if it had been painted on. On TV she just looked like someone who wore too much makeup, but up close it almost looked like a mask. Still, she wasn’t as aggressive or fake as the other girls, and seemed more like someone from his high school. Chase thought it wouldn’t be so bad to hang out with Larissa for the rest of the event.
This compatibility wasn’t missed on Helene. She disappeared for a few minutes and returned with Amy Weatherby in tow. “Excuse us for a minute,” she said and not-so-subtly elbowed Larissa out of the way. Chase smiled apologetically. “Hey, nice talking to you,” he told Larissa before turning his attention to Amy.
“Chase, have you met one of my clients, Amy?”
Chase turned and looked into the gray cool eyes of the object of his 9th grade infatuation. She was prettier in person, but the fine lines around her eyes reminded him that she wasn’t the high school cheerleader he remembered.
She smiled at him confidently, a smile which said that she had always had her looks, and now she was famous and rich to boot. Her cocky expression said that a disgraced athlete, no matter how young and virile, was not someone who would be able to resist her. “Hello. Chase. Nice to meet you.” Amy’s voice was still light and girlish.
“Hey.” The awkwardness of the situation was obvious to him. Amy may have been an actor, but he wasn’t, and he suddenly found himself wishing he hadn’t agreed to this.
As if reading his mind, Helene stepped in quickly to pick up the silence. “Well. You two are seated next to each other at dinner, and you can get to know each other a little better.” Just then a photographer came up to them. The press pass around his neck read New York Post. “Can I get a picture of the three of you?” This was a formality, and after one perfunctory shot, he got to the point. “Great, thanks. Now Helene, would you mind if I took a few of Chase and Amy together?” Amy moved closer to Chase and put her arm around him. Reflexively, he did the same, and put an arm around her waist as one photographer, then several others who hurried over to them did the same before dissolving into the crowd again.
“Is this your first time at the Founder’s Ball?” Amy tried to start the conversation again as Helene discreetly walked away.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he didn’t mean to be, but Chase was suddenly annoyed. Was it that obvious he didn’t belong here?
Her smile didn’t waver. “OK, I won’t ask. Why don’t you ask me a question now, so that everyone who’s watching us thinks we’re actually having a good time?” She leaned in close as if telling him a secret. “I’m a lot of fun, Chase. And I’ll be good for your career, too.”
She stepped away from him and tilted her head becomingly. “What do you say?”
Chase took her in. The combination of that beautiful cold face paired with a thin, but lush body stirred his interest. There were worse things in life than hooking up with a pretty actress. Chase put his arm around her waist and walked her into the crowd. “Let’s go have some fun.”
They stayed together throughout the evening. At dinner several people came up to their table, wanting to talk about “projects” they wanted her to be involved in. Chase, who had little experience in schmoozing, was impressed by how good Amy was at it. She was good at keeping all her options open while committing to nothing.
At the same time, she was finely attuned to his needs. If his attention started to wander, or if he got bored, she was there, focusing her attention onto him and drawing him back to her. A phrase came to him, “professional girlfriend.” It was what the guys on the team called the women who worked at trying to be their girlfriends the way someone would work at their career. Ambitiously, methodically and with a plan. These women went to all the games, went to the same clubs, gyms and even moved into the same neighborhoods they did; all in the hopes of catching their eye. But with Amy, the phrase meant something else. He could see that she would be the type of girlfriend who would do all the work in a relationship. She would be the type who made sure all his needs were met without demanding anything in return. And she would be…professional, not personal about it. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to have anything to do with her after tonight, but at least he knew what it would be like.
As he expected, Amy even made the decision about what to do after the party easy for him. “My driver can give you a ride back,” she offered. Yet once they were in the car, it was clear they were going to go back to her place. They sat close to each other without touching, giving each other a few minutes more of anticipation.