“No. I don’t think so.” She let out a harsh breath.
“Okay. Well maybe we could prep for the pre-marathon article then.” That was supposed to kick-start the exclusive, almost like an introductory article.
“What are the questions?”
I flicked through my folder for the list of questions I’d adapted but I couldn’t find it. I found Bob’s list I’d printed off; mine, however, was not there.
Shit, shit. I must have left it.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, um…the first question I have is…” I’d adapt what I had now. “What was the best thing about competing in the last Olympic games?”
“I didn’t compete in the last games.” She eyed me dangerously.
I knew I’d said that wrong. “Oh, I meantyourlast Olympic games.”
“Nothing was good. That was when I was first diagnosed with cancer and I felt my career would be over.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I was digging a hole for myself. “We’ll move on to the next question. Are you looking forward to competing again?”
She pressed her fingers together and gazed at me. “Competing in what? Every event is different. They mean different things to me. It’s not just running.”
“Sure. How are you feeling about competing in the next Olympics? I know it must be tough not competing this year, but I’m sure you’ll be awesome next Olympics.”
“You’re asking me how I feel about something that’ll take place four years from now?Really?”She tensed her shoulders.
Sure, these weren’t from my list, and she was making me seriously nervous—so nervous I was making mistakes I didn’t usually make—but I didn’t see anything wrong with that question. There were people prepping for the next games as we spoke.
“I know a lot of athletes preparing now so I figured someone as notable as you would be too.”
No, that was the wrong answer, just like everything else I’d said.
“This meeting is over. I’m done with you. It’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing, not at all.”
“I’m trying here, but you won’t even meet me halfway.”
She opened her mouth to speak but started coughing, almost like she was choking. She pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and coughed into it. Her maid rushed in with a cup of water, which she drank quickly.
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking her over. Somehow her skin had grown paler.
Then my gaze landed on the tissue and I caught sight of the small droplets of blood.
“Just leave. Get out. Get out!” she hollered when she noticed me looking at the tissue in her hand.
I grabbed my stuff and left, completely embarrassed but also concerned.
She was sick, very sick. A person didn’t just cough up blood for no reason.
I was definitely concerned for her and even thought about going back to her house later to check on her.
However, before I even reached my place, Perry called me.
He was pulling me from the assignment.
* * *
Bad luck.
