Sure Thing • Gavi

Chapter 79: Reputation

🎶 Look What You Made Me Do — Taylor Swift 🎶

There were two days to go until the final, but that didn't mean that it was going to be slow. After having breakfast on Friday morning, I hurried over to Real Madrid's hotel for my interviews. I had requested, scrap that, begged their PR department for one with Bellingham, but had no luck, they had given me Arda Guler instead. I get that they probably wanted to push him more into the spotlight, but now I had to invent questions for a guy who had played two times since he started at the club and had a total play time of 71 minutes.

He also wasn't the most experienced with interviews, but I managed to get some stuff out of him nonetheless.
"Hi, Miss Hernández, I'm sorry about the Bellingham thing, but his schedule is really full. However, I've got a slot with Kroos and Modric open now if you're interested to interview them instead?" Madrid's comms manager asked me as I was packing up my stuff.
"Oh, wow! Yes, sure, I'd be crazy not to take that offer!" I chuckled and she told me to follow her. She brought me to another room and instructed me to wait. While I did that, I took out the Kroos shirt my cousin Paola had given me in case I'd be able to make him sign it for her.

The two men came in and I greeted them cordially with a handshake.
"Um... before we start, could you sign this for my cousin? She is the biggest fan" I asked.
"Really? How old is she?" Kroos asked with a grin on his face.
"Same as me, 24" I replied, already knowing what his comment would be.
"Well, you've got quite the different taste in men" he chuckled and I had to crack a laugh too.
"That's why we're close, we'd never go for the same guy" I replied and they both laughed.
"Should I sign it too?" Modric asked and I nodded.
"Please! The more, the merrier!" I said and he put the pen on the fabric.
"You brought nothing to sign for yourself?" he asked when he was done.
"Shoot. I forgot my toilet paper." I said, slapping my hand on my front, and the men laughed again.
We had a great hour together and they were such impressive people, having achieved that much and still being on top of their game, despite their age. They teased me here and there anout Barca and I made sure to tease them back, but this created a great atmosphere and I was sure that this piece would become a hit. When we were done, I thanked them a thousand times and we then walked out together.
"Miss Hernández!" Kroos exclaimed just seconds after we had parted ways and I was on my way to the hotel's exit. I turned around and he walked up to me.
"He's good, no doubt. But you're better." he said and patted me on my shoulder, leaving me behind with a puzzled face. Was he talking about Gavi?

When I arrived back at the hotel, I finished the articles up in my room, sent them in and as there were still some hours of daylight, I decided to take a stroll through the city. It wasn't really a historic city, I got my sightseeing all done and visited the Fortress, the Grand Mosque and some local markets before I returned to the hotel for dinner. The other journalists with whom I was sitting at the table started warming up to me and were less cold than in the beginning and that relieved me in some way.

On Saturday, it was a Barca day for me and I was pretty excited about my interview with Vitor Roque. I had only read about him so far and was curious to get to know him more, the way the fans portrayed him, he was like the new Messiah. After a quick morning run and watching some of the morning news back in my room, I started getting ready and walked to the conference room that had been booked for the interview. After a few minutes, I huffed annoyedly that he didn't show up and checked the e-mail from the communications department to make sure that I was in the right place, and I was. In the end, I waited for over an hour and then decided to leave, as it was already time for lunch. Maybe he had just forgotten it or there had been some misunderstanding.

And indeed, he was already sitting at a players' table, chatting with Lewandowski, Gündogan and some others. I confidently walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He just eyed me up and down before looking back at his food.
"Hey. We had an interview scheduled over an hour ago." I said with a firm voice, not knowing where his problem was.
"I know. I decided to follow my wife's advice though and stay away from the club's whore. You know, I've heard things." he said and shrugged.
Lewandowski dropped his fork and I stood there petrified while the whole room fell silent around us. He didn't seem to be sorry for what he said and even the guys around him were at loss for words.

"Well, the next time you don't care to show up, tell your comms manager to cancel. I could have slept around with a few more guys instead of waiting for you for over an hour." I shot back and turned around before stomping away angrily, trying to hide my tears at least until I would be back in my room.
"Vicky!" I heard someone shout behind me, but I continued walking. "Hey! Vicky!" he shouted again and I felt my arm being grabbed, making me turn around to see Pedri.
"WHAT?!" I shouted with tears streaming down my face. Great, exactly what I didn't want and didn't need.
"I... I'm sorry... I don't know... I just ran after you because I thought I should" he stammered.
"Just leave me alone. Go laugh with your teammates about me. Gavi, Ferran, Luis, you could make bets who's next! Maybe Xavi!" I shouted and walked to the elevators.

I should have really just died that night.

When I got back to my room, my phone dinged and my heart shattered into a million more pieces when I saw from who it was.

Pablo ⚽️❤️
Vicky, I am so sorry, I just heard about what happened
I called Vitor and set the record straight, telling him to apologise straight away
If I could make things right, I would, really

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted at my phone and was ready to slam it at the wall, but decided against it as I still needed it. I remembered what Dr Reyes had told me to do and calmed down my breathing while thinking about my family and who I really was. I wasn't going to let some random Brazilian who knew how to kick around a ball break me down, no. I looked into the mirror and saw myself: who did I want to be? The petty and maybe most obvious move would be to write a slander article about Roque and throwing him under the bus, but I wasn't cut like that.

Instead, I walked down to the lobby and bribed the receptionist to tell me the number of Joao Felix' room, where I camped in front until he returned from training.
"Well, this... I didn't expect" he chuckled and I stood up to stand eye to eye with him.
"I bet. Unluckily for you though, I didn't come here to add you to my collection of Barca men" I joked and he laughed too, raising his arms in annoyance.
"No! My dreams are shattered..." he whined sarcastically.
"Listen. You're not happy with your current treatment and I want to hit back at Roque. Give me an interview and I'll write an article about how you're much more of an asset to the team rather than him. You want to get bought in summer, right? Let's raise the pressure from the media side." I said and he looked at me with a surprised look.
"Wow. You're not playing!" he mumbled.
"I'm not" I replied.
"Let's do it. But I have to run it through my manager first" he said.
"Fine. We talk now, I write the article, send it to you, you send it to your manager and then give me a green or red light until 1am, then it's editorial deadline in Barcelona." I explained and he nodded, opening the door of his room and showing me in.

We did as I had said and I was currently tapping nervously on my phone's cover, waiting for a message from Joao. At 00:58, my phone lit up.

Joao Felix
Go 👍🏼