“You go,” Janice says, “he’s your boy.”
Now I understand why context is important, and some women find the termgirloffensive. I’ve just been reduced to a twelve-year-old without agency by a single word.
“Yes, Warner,” I drawl with sarcasm thick enough to smother his ego. “I can’t wait to hear your exciting news.”
“Janice is from McMillan Media. There’s been a last-minute cancellation, and Janice thought of you. There’s not a lot of time to get things started, and the producers know all about your season schedule. This is what we’ve been looking for. This will raise your profile, set up your brand with potential sponsors, and …”
“Warner,” I interrupt. “Slow down and explain it to me as if I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”
“McMillan Media own a communications network and several production companies. They saw an opportunity to cross-promote the Southern Mavericks with one of their campaigns.”
“And?” I’m waiting for the ball to drop. Hopefully, it won’t smash my foot.
“You’re about to be namedAustralia’s Favorite Bachelor.”
What the living …?
My chest tightens, and my pulse doubles. “What the fuck?” I don’t even try to hide my shock or my frustration.What does this mean for me and Emma?“Do I even get a say in this or are you gonna pimp me out to any starlet signed to a McMillan company?”
Warner nods, like I’ve agreed to his bullshit idea. No. No,NO… I haven’t agreed. No, I don’t want to agree. It’s one thing to be Dylan Fleski,Representative FullbackandThe Man You Warned Your Daughters About. It’s another to be attached to a brand like Australia’s Favorite Bachelor where someone will want to do a deep dive into my family life. Warner knows my father is … not a part of my life. He just doesn’t know why. On a good day, I’mFucking Fleski’spride and joy. Unfortunately, his good days come less often than Christmas. Most of the time, I’m an ungrateful asshole who doesn’t do enough for his family. I’mhis cash cow and money tree, while my brother is his pawn and the only person left who I love.
I’d been so close to saving my mother and brother, and then … she died. If the police couldn’t threaten the truth out of Squid, and social workers couldn’t coax it, then I need to work with our fucking father until I can organize Squid’s escape.
Until then, Squid needs therapy that Fucking Fleski’s insurance refuse to fund, Fucking Fleski charges me for access to my brother, and I’m left doing anything for a dollar.
“No.” I don’t want to explain it to Janice … let Warner do his fucking job and protect me.
“Think about it, Dyl. It’s a perfect fit.” Warner leans into me, trying to create theits us against the world and I’m on your sidefeel he’s famous for. “We’re trying to change the narrative. Get the fans behind you. Show you as a person and not just a player—with subtle links back to the Mavericks. You know how it works.”
Janice smiles. “We tested several single players with focus groups, and you rate the highest.”
Emma. What the hell do I tell Emma?I haven’t even been able to get her alone to talk about our night. Now what? The last thing I need right now is to be plastered all over magazines with some stupid bachelor image.
“Are you serious?” I spit out. “You’ll turn me into a fucking joke. The only thing worse than the on-field sledging will be the media. I’ll be a fucking meme.”
Warner shrugs. “It’s a good angle. You’re the fullback, the hotshot, the face of the team. Fans will love it, and you never know. One of the blind dates might be your last first date.”
They aren’t hearing me. Nothing is real. It’s all bullshit. All of it.And what if they want to interview my family? How much is it gonna cost to get Fucking Fleski to say, “no comment”?
“I’m not a fucking bachelor for sale, Warner,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “I’m a professional football player.” Don’t get me started on which code of football. It would be easier in the States because they only have one code—the NFL. Here, we call soccer,football. Then, there’s rugby league, rugby union, and then Australian Football League, orAFL.
The code isn’t important—I am a professional football player, and the last time one of us got caught up on reality TV, it had mixed results. Dawson Briggs rehabbed the shit out of his reputation, scored a contract with the Southern Mavericks and now his not-so-secret girlfriend has done a midnight runner. No one’s seen or heard from Randii in months, and it’s doing his head in.
Dawson’s gone from player to pussy all because he met Randii onAustralian Love Story. I can do without that brand of drama. Keep Squid safe, get Emma. Oh, and play the best football of my life. Those are my #lifegoals.
Warner looks unfazed. “Exactly. And that’s why this works. It’s a story people can get behind. Your fans need someone to root for, and you’re the guy.”
I want to punch something. I want to tell them both to fuck off. But I do know that personal branding is part of the game. Do I have a choice? If it can bring in cash, not really.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But there are rules, or I walk.” I turn to Janice, “and before you agree thinking you can reneg and I won’t react, think about why you want me. I’m the player who goes up for the ball, not giving a fuck if players twice my size bring me down on my ass or my head. I put my body on the line every game, and I do it for my team.”
“I understand that. It’s one of the reasons you polled so highly,” Janice quickly agrees. Her hands are already fidgeting with emails to send, and a PR campaign to launch. Then, the solution hits me.
“Rule one, the minute anyone approaches my family for an interview, I’m out.” I glare at Warner. “No interviews. No deep dives. No stories about little Dylan growing up. I don’t care if my family approaches the media, you kill the fucking story. You buy the rights and kill the story.”
“Um, I don’t …” Janice starts before Warner cuts in.
“Understood. Your father is still under the exclusivity arrangement we got him to sign last year when you contracted with the Mavericks. I’ll ensure we do the same if he tries to shop his story around.”
