Wild Card by Ashley Munoz

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Taylor,please call me back. I need to talk to you.” I pressed the end button on my cell and tossed it on the bed. That was the sixth or seventh voicemail I’d left for her.

Pacing my bedroom had done nothing to settle my nerves or provide me with answers. The party for the team was in a few hours, but I wouldn’t be going. Even if there was a part of me that wanted more details for my story, I couldn’t stomach being around Elias or Decker at the moment, and I would be thinking of Taylor the entire time.

Was that why she’d warned me that Elias was a dangerous guy? Did she know what he’d done to Decker? Had he done something to her? My list of questions grew with every passing hour, and as the sun began to dip closer to the horizon, I was no closer to having any answers.

Finally, around four, I received a phone call, but it wasn’t from who I needed to hear from.

Still, at least it would help keep my mind off of Taylor. So, I changed my clothes, did my hair, and headed toward the school.

* * *

“Thankyou for agreeing to meet with us, Ms. Shaw.”

Mr. Geele lifted his hand so I would take a seat at the massive table to his left. There were already four other faculty members sitting at it, one of which was my journalism advisor.

I smiled, taking a seat, feeling nerves jutting under my skin.

“Hello.” I nodded, greeting each person.

“Mallory, how are you today?” Ms. Stalkwell smiled at me while tapping away on her cell phone.

“Fine, thanks.” I wanted to puke, but that was totally not a big deal, right?

“Well, let’s get right to it.” Mr. Geele joined the table and steepled his fingers. “It’s been brought to our attention that you’re writing a fabricated article about the baseball team, with the purpose and intent to slander their team and the legacy. These gentlemen”—he gestured to the two suits sitting across from me—“are legal representation for the Devils.”

Oh shit.This was bad. This was very bad.

I swallowed, trying to control my breathing.

“With all due respect to everyone in the room, my story is not, in any way, fabricated.”

Mr. Geele waved his hand as if to erase what I’d said. “Did you have authorization to attend that party?”

Authorization? What the hell…

“No…I wasn’t given a card specifically, but others were allowed in, with a cover charge.”

“But you were allowed downstairs with the knowledge that only people who’d signed a waiver were given access. You omitted the fact that you’d swapped the card with someone else. This is a very serious legal situation you’ve found yourself in.”

I looked to each of the teachers in front of me as panic expanded in my chest. How did they know I’d taken Taylor’s card and attended the game?

“I wasn’t aware…” My voice faltered with nerves, and I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t aware of the waivers prior to attending…I mean, that’s what good reporting is.” I looked to Ms. Stalkwell for help, because she’d get it, right? “That’s what we’re taught all four years of journalism class.”

“While that may be true, Ms. Shaw, you are also taught about journalistic integrity and how your sources need to be obtained in an ethical way. You tricked your way into the game then gathered privileged information that was not legally offered to you. You will abandon this article and turn in every scrap of information you’ve gathered thus far,” Ms. Stalkwell informed me with a bit of a tone.

I burned from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Tears prickled at the backs of my eyes, and even my nose felt like it was on fire. What they’d said…it was technically true, but why were they willing to turn a blind eye to something so superficial as a damn card game aimed at sex?

“I understand what you’re saying, Ms. Stalkwell, but I had an ethical source…there is a member of the Devils team that has been offering me information. So, the facts are not fabricated or embellished in any way.” I tried to explain, but the way the two lawyers were looking at each other didn’t feel encouraging.

“Ms. Shaw, that’s impossible,” one of the lawyers said in a gruff tone.

I kept my mouth shut, my gaze bouncing between the two of them.

“There’s a clause in each player’s release form.” He opened the briefcase that had been on the floor, tugged a piece of paper free, and slid it toward me. “You see, each player joins the team with the knowledge that there can be no divulging of information of any kind to any news source, unless very specific and extreme actions are taken.”

“Such as?” I whispered, curious what would be deemed a good enough excuse to spill all the Devils’ details.

The men looked at each other again. “We’re not at liberty to explain that in this setting, but I assure you the steps were not taken. Therefore, you did not have permission to gather what intel you did, and any player offering you said information was merely playing you, as each person is made abundantly aware of our rules.”

“This seems a little backwards, doesn’t it?” I held out my hand, hoping someone in the room would aid me. How could they say all the steps hadn’t been taken to grant permission for the article, yet they wouldn’t say what the steps were?

The two suits turned toward me with grave expressions. “The school has been advised not to discuss the nature of the game with you. There are more things to this game and this team that you don’t even know about, girl,” the man with jowls explained to me.

“You of all people should know this, given who your father is,” the other added, narrowing his beady gaze on me.

I felt small, insignificant…stupid. My face burned with regret, and with assumptions—that I could pull off a story of that caliber. That I could actually be a contender for the internship. That Decker had taken me seriously or had uttered any truth at all to me. Everything had been a lie. Seemed there was yet one more thing Decker knew that he wasn’t telling me.

I was so foolish.

I ducked my head, breathing strictly through my nose so a sob wouldn’t work its way up my throat. “I understand.”

The people around the table smiled and stood, silently dismissing me.

“We will expect your notes by the end of the day.”

“One more thing, Ms. Shaw…” One of the lawyers stopped me, sliding a piece of paper toward me. “This is an NDA. You’ll agree not to publicly print or post anything about the team in any other paper or on any form of digital publication.”

With shaky fingers, I gripped the pen handed to me from someone on my left. Everything was blurry as tears clouded my eyes. I just needed them to stay put until I got to my car.

Signing, I pushed the paper back toward them. Once I was nearly out the door, I was ushered by Mr. Geele, who quietly said into my ear, “This was a kindness. There are other ways they could have handled this.”

I turned to look at him, but he was already walking away.

What the hell did he mean by that?

I didn’t get a chance to ask as I walked away from the meeting, leaving my hopes for the story to secure my spot in the internship behind.