Page 8 of Defensive Indifference

Giggles and gasps fill the room, along with yelps. Koa slaps at the donuts all while I slip around, trying not to die for my rash actions. Donut-covered brick floors are slippery, which I hadn’t expected. Why would I? I haven’t had occasion to dump trays of donuts on a man before.

The trays clang to the floor, making an awful noise.

“I’m self-absorbed?” Koa points to his chest. “I’m not the one who tried to make a quick buck off of someone else by calling every reporter to my bakery!”

“I said I didn’t call them! I also told you—”

“Yeah, I know what you told me. It was the plan from the beginning, right? As soon as you saw me walk in, you couldn’t wait to get back there and make the calls.” Koa brushes smashed donuts from his clothing and shifts his gaze to the news crews already filming our exchange. He grumbles and pivots, slips on a donut, and falls on his backside. A little scrambling and a few mumbled words later, he pops up and issues another heated glare before taking the swinging door to the kitchen, where reporters probably wait in the alley at this point. He’ll never believe I didn’t do this, but it’s not my problem.

What is my problem is the gigantic mess our interaction left behind—the physical mess all over the floor, and the one that will likely make rounds on social media and in the news. Whispers fill the lobby.

“I can’t believe he did that!”

“Did you see what he did to her?”

“Evalina is the sweetest. She doesn’t deserve that.”

The reporters make note of their comments. They champ at the bit to get an incriminating statement that will make their evening newscasts shine brighter than anyone else’s. What began as a bad day has spiraled into what is, undoubtedly, the worst possible.

Annie rushes into the lobby with her hairnet askew and her glasses perched low on her nose. “What happened out here? Why did a man just run through the kitchen, and why are there reporters in the lobby?”

I heave a great, deep sigh and brush my hair from my face. “It’s a long story, Annie.”

Chapter Five

Koa

Drooping my head in shame doesn’t hide the truth from my friends. Andrew watches the video once more, just to be sure the jerk in it accusing his sweet bakery owner friend of setting him up really is me and not some impersonator who lost his mind. His grumble earns his dog’s attention, who perks his ears and glares at me merely because his owner is annoyed. Lottie’s boxer snores beside him, unaware there is a doofus in her presence.

“Did Katie get settled in at Spencer’s?” I ask.

“Don’t change the subject.” Andrew drops his phone on the coffee table and Lottie slips from the room to take care of the twins.

My pleading gaze isn’t enough for her to stick around and ease the impact of her husband’s stinging correction. This is worse than when he played with the Sharks and openly pointed out the days that I sucked.

“This is all over. I’ve had people I haven’t spoken to in years send me clips, asking if I know you. What happened to laying low and letting your lawyer handle things?”

I lean back deeper in the sofa, half of me wishing I could disappear while the other half wishes I’d never left his house in the first place.

“That was the plan, yes, but things got out of control.”

“Out of control? You yelled at one of the nicest women in the city, brought negative attention to her during an already difficult time, and made a fool of yourself on a national level.”

“Rub it in good, why don’t you?” I shift forward and ruffle my hair, more confused than ever about what to do. “Is Coach—”

“Yes, Coach is mad. He wasn’t until this incident. He wants to meet with you tomorrow morning, so I’d highly recommend making amends with Evalina before then. Maybe things will die down if you apologize and make a statement.”

Groaning hardly encompasses my frustration. “Since when did my life become public business? Can’t a man have a bad day without having to apologize to the entire world about it?”

“You lost that privilege when you went pro. That’s the life, Koa, and if you like your life, then you gotta take the hits and the attention along with the good parts.” Andrew eases onto the sofa across from me and relaxes a little. He’s quiet, staring at the coffee table as if it might spit out the solution to my problem. One I haven’t considered, up to and including running to Alaska and hiding out in an igloo until everyone in Georgia forgets about my family name.

“I get it. I really do, but you have to be cooler-headed to get through this. Even if Evalina had called the reporters, your reaction was exactly what they wanted. Don’t give them the thing they crave. Be calm and collected, reasonable even. If you’re normal and boring enough, they’ll find something more fun to do. Right now, you’re giving them the chase of a lifetime.”

I’m reminded that I still haven’t heard from Mom, though I’ve called her and left messages, desperate for more information than what my own lawyer could scrape up. Frustrated as I am with the reporters, I’m even more confused by our parents’ behavior. Katie and I moved to Georgia together—me for baseball and her for college—and we loved it so much we never went back home to New York. Maybe it’s better that way. We’re farther from the drama down here, though it’s bad enough as it is. Still, not even a follow-up phone call to check on us? Surely, Mom knows what this must be doing to her daughter without any sort of update.

“I should get to Spencer’s and check on Katie. What time am I supposed to meet Coach in the morning?” Standing gets the dogs’ attention and they both leap to their feet and stretch. Man, to be a dog with zero worries or cares.

“Ten, and you better go in with a contrite attitude and a willing spirit, or he’ll bench you. It doesn’t matter if you’re a star hitter. It matters more that the team keeps a clean image.”