Page 77 of The Player's Club

“Dave will probably punch me again,” Mac said as we sat in the back of the church.

After the visitation, Mac’s dad held a service. I held Mac’s hand, but I didn’t know if it was more for me than it was for him.

I could just make out Caroline’s pale face inside her casket. The blond hair over her head looked like it might’ve been a wig—it was too perfect. I struggled to feel sad that she’d died. It was probably better that I couldn’t see her clearly. I didn’t want to remember what she looked like.

Didn’t Mac understand that she’d used him? That she hadn’t been a good person? I didn’t understand his sadness. All I could feel was anger at the woman who’d abused a teenage boy who’d just wanted someone to understand him.

As Bob Mackenzie extolled Caroline’s virtues, I felt my stomach twist. I whispered to Mac that I needed to use the restroom and got up.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Despite the huge auditorium, the walls felt like they were closing in.

Was everyone in this place going to act like Caroline hadn’t been an abuser? Or did they just think she and Mac had done nothing worse than have an extra-marital affair?

To my surprise, I spotted Judy on a bench near the café that had closed for the service. She had her hands folded like she was praying. When she caught me looking at her, she motioned for me to join her.

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said to my surprise. Her expression was sad. “I wish it were under better circumstances, though.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Did Judy know the whole story about Mac and Caroline? I couldn’t imagine how she felt as his mother.

“I wish that too,” I replied.

Judy looked at me, her gaze full of something I couldn’t wholly define. “Take care of him, okay? And don’t break his heart.”

I let out a surprised laugh. “I don’t think I could if I tried.”

“You don’t know my boy, then. He has a heart of gold, but he gives it out to people who don’t deserve it.” Judy looked stern now. “Don’t be another person he’ll regret.”

She got up before I could respond. And then a few moments later, I heard people talking. The service was now over.

I returned to where Mac was sitting. Up at the front, I saw Dave turn to glare at Mac, his face visibly red.Mac was brave for showing up here knowing that Dave would make him feel badly for it.

“We should go,” Mac said. He didn’t look away from Dave, though. He just nodded tightly at him and then left with me.

I was hoping for a quick return to our hotel, but I knew that wouldn’t happen when I saw the huge swath of photographers outside. Who had tipped them off? And who showed up at a visitation like that?

I was disgusted. Mac looked like he wanted to punch everyone there.It made me ashamed of my own involvement in the tabloid press. Being on the other side of it really brought home how tough celebrities have it when you can’t even mourn in peace.

“Mac, when did your relationship with Caroline Bradford start?” one reporter asked brazenly, shoving a mic in Mac’s face. “Did you know she was married?”

Mac’s lip curled. “No comment,” he spat.

Flashbulbs went off, and more reporters lobbed questions at Mac as we went to our car. When one guy asked why Mac only went for married women, I could feel Mac wanting to turn around to confront the man.

The last reporter asked Mac, “Did you punch anybody this time?”

Mac stopped in his tracks.For a moment, I thought he was going to lose it and show that last reporter precisely how he could throw a punch.

“Let’s go,” I said, squeezing his hand. Mac hesitated but eventually kept walking.

A few of the reporters tried to get me to answer questions. I worried that some of them would recognize me—or worse, that I’d know them—but I didn’t see anyone I knew.I’d dodged my biggest nightmare. Once we got back into the car, Mac put his head in his hands. He groaned.

“What a fucking mess,” he said. “Can you fucking believe those vultures? And who told them I was there? I thought I’d be safe in White Rock of all places.”

I felt sick to my stomach. Not just because of what had happened but because those vultures had jobs just like mine. They were there because Mac was a celebrity, and they could make money off him. Because he was rich and famous, it meant that his humanity didn’t matter.

“Showing up at a church, too,” I said. “Pretty sure you’ll go straight to hell for that.”

That remark made Mac chuckle darkly. “We can only hope.”