Lexi saw the fear in his eyes. She was dying to find out what David had threatened him with. It turned her on a bit to know that he’d been so protective.
“If you’re not interested...” she said, almost hoping Ben would back out.
He took a moment to weigh his options.
“Fuck it. But David can never know,” he said.
“I don’t plan to tell him,” Lexi said and then turned to Halle.
“If it puts you in a better mood, I’ll promise,” Halle said.
“Well, there you have it,” Ben said with a big smile.
They’d borrowed one of the trailers the studio provided its talent, giving the actors a place to collect themselves, read lines, nap, and the like during long shooting days. Each one had a bed in it.
After Ben left, Lexi got into the shower to wash her shame away. From the start, it all just felt wrong. He had been an attentive and considerate lover; that wasn’t an issue. The trouble was that she knew David. He would have a serious problem if he knew that she had spent the afternoon having sex with one of his friends in the business.
Lexi had finally figured out what was wrong as Ben was gathering his clothes to leave. There wasn’t that emotional connection. Ben could have been anyone because he didn’t matter to Lexi. Yes, he was good-looking and skilled in bed, but she simply couldn’t get into it because she knew this was just sex. If she and Ben never saw each other again, Lexi would be okay.
When Lexi found Halle in wardrobe, the two girls’ eyes locked. Lexi felt dampness leak down her cheeks, tasted the salt from her tears on her lips. She was shocked because she hadn’t expected to feel this way. Halle rushed over and pulled her into a hug.
“Oh, Honey. Did Ben do something...?” Halle asked.
“No. He was really nice.”
“Then, what is it?”
“He isn’t David,” Lexi said as she broke down.
Chapter 69
David
Before the baseball team left for their weekend trip to Stanford, Lexi had finally booked David lunch with Chip Wagner, the local sports reporter. She’d made reservations at Soho Warehouse in downtown LA’s Art District. It was the only Soho house in the area that David hadn’t visited yet, and he figured that no one from USC would be there to observe the two of them together.
David arrived early so that he could get a tour. It had been an industrial building and recording studio before Soho had bought it. The manager told him that it had 48 bedrooms and showed David one. They were decorated to make it feel like you’d stepped back into the late ‘50s or early ‘60s. He would have to invite his decorator, Cindy, to come to see them. The bedrooms featured old-style lamps and furniture, black Bakelite dial phones, and boxy radios to fit the period look.
They’d also embraced the purpose of Soho House, which was to cater to creative types. Throughout, they had works by local artists on display. The piece that caught David’s eye was an 18-foot-long triptych created by Australian-born artist Paul Davies. The composition, entitled Three Stories, was loosely based on a book of essays called The White Album written by Joan Didion in the late ‘70s.
The triptych showed three images of the same mid-century home that appeared to be set in LA, complete with palm trees, a pool, and mountains in the background. The duplicate images were offset slightly. The manager explained to David that the artist had told him that it was done that way so there wasn’t just one set perspective.
David was informed that Soho Warehouse boasted a number of places to eat, including the House Kitchen, several club spaces, poolside on the rooftop, and the Garden, a ground-floor space with both indoor and outdoor dining. David decided on the Garden, which offered Italian and Mediterranean fare.
As the tour was ending, David received a text to let him know that Chip was waiting for him at reception.
“David.”
“Chip.”
“I’ve always wanted to come here. My boss tried to get me to let her come along.”
“They do offer memberships,” David suggested as they made their way to the restaurant. “Being a writer and on-air talent, you would fit in.”
Once they were seated, the server suggested the individual wood-fired pizzas, which they both ordered. They then settled in to tackle what Chip wanted from David: background on what was going on with USC football.
“How’s your knee?” Chip asked to get the interview started.
David had asked Frank, his PR guy, to prep him with talking points for the interview, which was standard. David had been warned that he had to basically dodge any bullets while dancing through raindrops, as Frank so eloquently put it, or face trouble down the road. Frank had immediately grasped what David had suspected. Namely, that talking frankly about what was going on internally with the football program might not be looked upon kindly by the administration, his teammates, or the fan base.
Frank had, in fact, at first advised against David talking to Chip. He’d grudgingly changed his mind when David pointed out that he wanted a ‘friend’ in the press to help him with his plans to turn the program into a consistent winner. Being a PR guy, Frank knew what a friendly ear could do. That didn’t mean David wasn’t hyperaware that he needed to be careful.
“It looked worse than it ended up being. I had a slight sprain. The training staff cleared me almost instantly. They told me to stay off it for the weekend, and then I could return to workouts and the like. So, I’m good,” David said.
“It was announced that Percy Wilkes, John Johnson, and Matt Long all received one-game suspensions. I understand Percy and John. Why did Matt get one as well? Like you, he looked to be a victim,” Chip said.
David wasn’t a typical freshman football player, and that was especially evident when it came to dealing with the press. He’d had four years of football as a top prospect, on top of which he had his acting and modeling experience. David had done hundreds, if not thousands, of interviews. So, when Chip sprung that question on him, David was surprised to feel caught flat-footed.
He had lived what happened, and it had been evident to everyone on the team why Matt had been suspended. Chip’s question about Matt made complete sense from an outsider’s perspective.
“What did the coaches say?” David temporized so he could get his head straight.
“Come on, David, I promised this would be off the record. Just tell me what’s going on,” Chip tried.
David really did want Chip as an ally but wasn’t sure if he could trust him. David decided to explain his position.
“Okay, but I still want to know what you’ve heard,” he said.
“That it was an internal ‘violation of team rules’ issue. That could mean anything.”
“Here’s my problem. I tell you some juicy gossip today, and you promise that what I say will only be used for background. Then tomorrow, I see in the paper a report that an unnamed source tells all. How long will it take for everyone to start speculating about who that source is? In no time, people within the program will start to point fingers. Even if they don’t land on me, it will cause problems,” David explained.
“Look, over the years, I’ve developed relationships with several players to make sure the truth gets out.”
“Like who?” David asked.
“Like the guy who recommended I talk to you...” Chip said and then stopped.
He gave David a calculated look and then chuckled.
“You’re good. That was a test, wasn’t it?” Chip asked.
“So, Ridge Townsend told you to talk to me,” David pushed.
That made Chip laugh. Then he got serious.
“I understand that you don’t trust me yet. How do you propose that we go about establishing a working relationship?” he asked. When David didn’t answer right away, Chip added, “I am assuming you want something from me, too, or you wouldn’t have had this lunch.”