“Do what, exactly?” Hook asks.
I wave my hand dismissively. “The attention that is sure to come with being tied to something like this.”
“Travis, it’ll help if you give them her name. We can protect her. Besides, she’s not the one facing this accusation. You are, and let’s face it, your reputation isn’t going to help you here,” Irvin says.
I process his words, knowing he’s right. Another glance at Saylor, though, and I can see torment written all over her face. Something isn’t right with her, and I want to know what it is.
“Was a rape kit done?” Irvin asks, steering the question away from me.
“Yes; we’re waiting for the results.”
“Great. Let us know when it comes in. Until then, we’re done talking.” Irvin and Saylor stand and motion for me to do as well. I follow them out and right into a media shit storm. The second the doors are opened, microphones are thrust into my face. The DA looks smug and pretentious as he glares at me.
Questions are thrown at me right and left, most of which I can’t even comprehend. Every time I hear the word rape, I die a little on the inside. I don’t have to force myself onto anyone, and I definitely know what no means.
Two police officers appear out of nowhere and try to put some distance between the crowd and us. Irvin holds his hand up, and microphones are pointed in his direction.
“We know you have questions, and while it seems that the state’s attorney feels like he has an open-and-shut case, I assure you no charges have been filed. My client was here to answer questions and came in willingly. He was not, and has not been, arrested.”
Irvin motions for us to leave. One of the officers leads us down the stairs while the other follows behind us. A black town car is waiting at the bottom of the steps for us to climb into. Once the door shuts, we speed off. While Saylor and Irvin talk about what happens next, my life, my career, and everything that I know flash before my eyes, and I don’t like what I’m seeing.
Four
Saylor
While I’m busy with the sports media angle for Travis, I assume Abbott is doing the same, only on the legal side. Abbott and I have one common interest, and that is Travis. I’ll work to keep his endorsement deals intact and make sure he’s still given the same opportunities he would’ve been given days prior to the news breaking. Abbott should be working to prove that Travis is innocent, which I do believe he is.
Travis Kidd is a lot of things. He’s a womanizer, a player, the quintessential bad boy, but never in a million years would I peg him for a rapist or a man who doesn’t take no for an answer. In the years that I have known him, seen him in action so to speak, I’ve never witnessed him be forceful with anyone.
We pull up to the law office, and the media melee continues. Cameras are flashing before we even step out of the car. Abbott leads, with me following behind Travis. I remind him to keep his head down and mouth shut. The last thing I want is a sound bite of him spouting off with one of his one-liners. On a normal day, I welcome the media taking his comments and making memes and YouTube videos. Fans have a habit of keeping Travis, and my other clients, in their newsfeed, and today will definitely be one of those days. He will be a trending topic, and it won’t be in a good way.
Abbott ushers Travis and me into a conference room, leaving us in here alone. I busy myself by making a cup of coffee. “Do you want a cup?” I ask with my back facing him.
“No.”
I jump slightly at his tone, spilling some coffee not only on my hand but the cart as well. His demeanor shouldn’t shock me. All it takes is one accusation to destroy a life. I can’t let that happen. My next call will be to Ryan Stone, the general manager of the Boston Renegades. It’s important that the organization stand behind their star left fielder.
“We need to talk, Saylor,” he says, letting out a long sigh.
“I know.” I turn and find him sitting at the end of the table with his head down and his hoodie pulled over his brown hair. “I don’t want you to worry about the BoRes. I’ll speak to Stone today. I promised Paul Boyd from ESPN that he would have your first interview. Once the rape kit comes back and you’re cleared, we’ll schedule that interview to take place in your home. We want the viewers to have sympathy for what you’ve gone through by the time this is all over.”
“I don’t care about any stupid interviews,” he says. His voice is strained and laced with anger.
“Travis, I know things look grim right now, but—”
He lifts his head, and from across the room, I can feel his blue eyes, eyes that have seen every part of me, boring into mine and making me feel about two feet tall. My hand shakes as I set down my cup of coffee, afraid that I’m going to spill the hot liquid again if I don’t.
“You know I didn’t leave with that woman last night, Saylor.”
“Travis, I—” He stands, effectively cutting my words off. I cover my face, shaking my head in the process. I know what I saw when I got out of that taxi, and I know that I could give him a witness, but it may not be enough. What if he doubled back?
“Listen to me, Saylor. I didn’t rape that woman. I kissed her and may have touched her ass. But once I went outside with you, I never gave her a second thought. I got in that cab with you, and I know you watched me drive away, because I was watching you until I couldn’t see anymore.”
“What if you came back for her?”
Travis walks over to me. He’s within arm’s reach, causing me to step back. The more space between us, the better off I am. I made a mistake with him once. I will never do it again.
“If I did, why would I leave my car sitting at the bar?”