Broken Play by Samantha Kane Read Free Book Online Page A

said, holding her hand out to Cass. Cass shook it as carefully as Beau had.
    “Cass, please,” he said with a polished smile and his Southern-boy charm. “Mr. Zielinski makes me sound too old.”
    She laughed and Beau found himself relaxing. He hadn’t even realized how tense he’d gotten when he heard her call out his name. Her manner was cool and easy and friendly, and Beau breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that no one was going to yell at him. She turned back to Beau and she was all business.
    “Mr. Perez—”
    “Beau,” he corrected her with a quick smile.
    She smiled back just as quickly. “Beau, okay. Then call me Melody Ann. We need you in PR. We’ve got to take advantage of your sound bite from yesterday. ESPN wants another interview, and so does the NFL Network, although I’m not sure which show they want it for. They’re doing a special on mini-camps this week, but I think it’s for
NFL AM
.”
    Beau blinked at her a few times, then looked over at Cass to see if he knew what the hell she was talking about. He got another shrug and turned back to Melody Ann, PR girl. “What?” he asked in confusion.
    His response stopped her just as she was about to say something, and her mouth hung open for a second or two. “You don’t know?” she asked, equally confused. She grabbed her phone off the top of her pile of papers and held it up, screen facing out. “Hasn’t your phone been blowing up?”
    “I sure as hell hope my phone isn’t blowing up,” he said with a little laugh. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked. He saw a little moon icon on his screen. “Oh, shit. I forgot to take it off Do Not Disturb.” He looked over at Cass. “I turned it off when we were with Marian last night.”
    Cass yanked his out of his pocket and laughed. He showed Beau the same little moon on his. “I did, too.” He swiped his finger and changed the setting while Beau turned back to Melody Ann.
    “Sorry,” he said. “What did we miss?” Just then Cass’s phone began to beep furiously and he flipped it around again so Beau could see.
    “Blowing up,” he said.
    “No shit,” Melody Ann replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on. I’ll show you what’s going on in my office.”
    Once they got into her tiny office—Beau and Cass took up all the available free space left by her desk and file cabinet—she woke up her computer and Googled Beau’s name. He and Cass stood behind her watching as an entire page of YouTube clips and online-magazine stories came up, all dated the day before.
    “Oh, shit,” Beau whispered. “That is not good.”
    Melody Ann laughed. “No, it’s not good. It’s great. Watch.” She clicked on a YouTube link and Beau saw it was from ESPN.
    “So, what do you think of when you hear Beau Perez’s name?” one of the anchors asked the other.
    “Can I say those words on TV?” the second anchor replied, and they both laughed. Beau cringed.
    “Think again,” the first anchor replied. “Word on the street is he’s in fighting shape this season and raring to go. Here’s an interview he did today with Stan Litchfield.” They showed Beau’s interview.
    “Wow,” the second anchor said, obviously impressed. “He knows his team. I saw a lot of support behind him in that clip.”
    “It appears so,” the first anchor said. “But what is Danny Smith going to say about it?” Both anchors laughed again. “Apparently the ‘prima donna’—Beau’s words not mine—isn’t responding to interview requests.”
    “Apparently,” the second anchor said, mimicking the first, “Beau Perez just brought trouble to his beeping door.” They laughed again and the clip ended.
    Melody Ann scrolled down to the comments. Most of them were supportive. “So?” she said, turning to look at him.
    “One story on ESPN doesn’t make me a star,” Beau protested. “And after a day’s reflection, I don’t think it’s in the team’s best interest to piss off Danny Smith.”
    “Fuck