"Five minutes, Mr. Garcia." My assistant, Miguel, spoke from the doorway. Miguel was a tall, scrawny teenage boy with big dark eyes yet horrible vision but thank god for thick glasses. His dark hair was always combed back perfectly, slickly.
I gave him a slight nod, and he took that cue to step out. I stood up to look in the mirror as I buttoned up my blazer and ran my fingers through my hair. I was dressed in one of my many thousand-dollar matte black suits. Slick. Expensive. Another luxury that came from playing on the California United Strikers soccer team. My soccer skills soared through the fucking roof after Stanford, and so many people tried to sign me onto their team, but I had wanted to do two years at Stanford at least so that I could obtain my associate's degree.
After that, the CUSFC didn't waste any time. They signed me, and I've played pro for the past eight consecutive years. I was still playing forward and training my ass off every second I got. I was living the life I've always wanted to live. I bought my parents the biggest goddamn house in Beverly Hills, with so many cars and services, that they didn't have to lift a finger. I had a mansion an hour away from them with rooms I didn't need, and too many bathrooms to count.
With great fame and fortune came great haters and other bullshit that I usually had Miguel or my manager, Samuel, take care of, but sometimes I needed to be present for a press conference. Especially one where every news outlet in California would be present. They were like tiny mosquitos, searching for any drop of blood or weakness they would use to suck the life out of you. Fucking assholes, all of them. The girl I was seeing recently on and off went to the media and formulated some fucking ridiculous rumor. Supposedly, she was pregnant with my baby, and I allegedly gave her the money to abort it.
Fucking ridiculous, but of course, Spilled Tea got their grimy claws on my ex-girlfriend and blew the entire thing out of fucking proportion. I was some egotistical asshole who was pro-life, which made me a meninst, some form of feminist but for men. I didn't fucking get it, but Coach and Samuel told me I had to shut this entire scandal down or else I would be suspended for the rest of the season. I couldn't fucking have that happening, so here I was, stepping down the hallway, where Miguel shoves a handful of notecards in my hands as he mumbles for me to say what he wrote.
The entire room was packed with media outlets, news outlets, and other blogger fuckers. They all sat in wooden rows upon rows, clutching their little tape recorders and mics in their hand like it was their fucking lifelines. The sounds of the cameras flashing were something I've grown accustomed to over the years, so the usual anxiety that was there was replaced with confidence and determination. I walked over to the stage calmly and stood behind the wooden podium. The mic was there, and I rested the cards Miguel gave me earlier down.
I looked over to see him standing behind me as he gave me a silent cue that said 'behave.' I didn't have a good track record with paparazzi or any other outlets that felt like they could invade your life and your personal space and take illicit and illegal photos of you whenever and wherever for a fucking payday. The flashing lights of the cameras were blinding, and the sounds of the reporters chatting among themselves were irritating, so I cleared my throat as I looked over the room that was packed tighter than a sardine can.
"Hello, and thank you all for coming today. I am here to set the record straight." I began, my eyes wandering from the cards over to the clamor of reports, "The allegations made by Sofia Vasquez were entirely and utterly false. We dated in the past on and off for a year, and we were in an intimate relationship, but Sofia did not have any pregnancy scares. I am an honorable man raised by honorable parents that have taught me everything I know about life, love, and respect. I have never in my life paid off a woman to do anything. I cared for and respected Sofia in every aspect, in every way, and I am saddened that the woman with whom I once was so close has chosen to slander my name with false accusations."
YOU ARE READING
The Ache Between Us
Romansa"Tell me what you want." He murmured, his finger trailing up and down my forearm. Goosebumps erupted at his touch and I shivered, my eyes fluttering shut at the trivial touch, and deep down I knew it was ridiculous that he still had any sort of asc...
