“Morning. The meeting starts in ten minutes, but Chris is going to grab coffees. Do you want one?” Kyle Long, one of the commentators on my crew, comes up beside me. He’s wearing khaki pants and a dark blue polo. He’s a colleague I’ve worked with for years and probably who I’m closest to. His wife and I have gotten dinner together a handful of times and we’ve connected over our love of books.
“Oh, that’d be great, thank you so much.” I gather the papers from the table into the crook of my elbow. “Should I just text him, or do you have a running list on your phone and I’ll just give you my order?”
Chris is one of the interns and easily the best one on our staff. He’s quick, funny, and always so helpful. He’s eager to be here and it reminds me of myself.
“Just put it on this list,” he says, handing me the phone as two other colleagues walk in.
Tom and Michael approach Kyle, giving him a handshake as I’m typing my order into the phone. Tom is an older gentleman, he played football back in the seventies and he’s so knowledgeable. I absolutely love working with him. Michael, on the other hand, can be a piece of work. He knows so much; he picks up on plays and penalties during games even before they’re called, so for the network, he’s a dream. And at the end of the day, he’s a supportive colleague—but he has his moments.
“Demi, you taking coffee orders?” Michael’s sarcastic tone goes in one ear and out the other, but my eyes sear into him. “I’m kidding,” he retreats, attempting to seem playful.
“Chris is going to grab coffee.” Kyle takes a seat in one of the gray chairs placed around the table in the conference room, and I hand him back his phone.
I don’t give Michael the satisfaction of a reply, but I do say good morning and greet Tom who takes a seat to my left.
Chris pokes his head in a few minutes into the meeting, dropping the coffees off as Greg is going over some things for the upcoming schedule. It’s hard to believe we’re in week seven already. Mid-October got here in the blink of an eye.
Once Greg wraps up, Michael starts going over offensive plays on film. The Knights are playing Denver, Liam’s dad’s former team. And I’m pretty certain that’s probably why his dad has been calling and texting him.
Michael stops and restarts the same clip of film over and over, examining every movement by the offensive line. It’s interesting, and he definitely has everyone’s attention, but allI’m really concentrating on is that Liam is probably going to be asked about his dad this weekend.
“Tess, you have the feature interview with Liam Evans. I’ll probably want to give you some specific notes on what to talk about. There will be a stat sheet printed too, so you can look through that,” Greg says to the only other woman at this table.
My eyes dart to Tess. Her pen is moving quickly across the paper in front of her. She’s very sweet and very good at her job. I really enjoy having her on the crew and think it’s about damn time they added another incredibly talented female to our team.
She nods as Greg continues to spew off some information. Her bright blonde bob bouncing as she does.
“Yeah, I can absolutely do that,” she says, referring to Greg’s question about pulling some information on Landyn Evans Sr.
Dammit, I don’t want anyone to ask him about his father. Why can’t we just let him play his game without pulling him into it?Because this is stuff fans enjoy.I can hear Greg’s voice in my head.
“We’re going to grab lunch around one thirty, Demi. Do you want to join us?” Tom taps my shoulder as he rises from his seat.
I kind of want to hang around the facility to see if I can bump into Liam so I can give him a heads-up on what’s coming this weekend. Although, he isn’t naive and something tells me he’s already anticipating this happening just based on the situation.
Grabbing lunch with my colleagues is probably a better idea than just awkwardly lurking around the building hoping I run into Liam when I know I can just see him later.
“Yeah, where are you guys going?” I ask, smiling up at Tom.
If I don’t reply to one of the seven text messages or three missed calls, I just know I’ll never hear the fucking end of it. So even though I know there’s a high chance I’ll hang up this phone pissed off, I click on my dad’s contact.
Demi didn’t need to give me the heads up about the interview, I fully expected it. Although, having her come knocking on my door at nine last night was too fucking cute.
“About time you called me back. Jesus, Liam.”
His voice is rough as he answers and full of that scolding tone I grew so used to as a kid.
“I’ve been busy, Dad. What do you need?”
“Did you not read any of my text messages?”
I roll my eyes as I sigh.
“I’m going to be at the game this weekend and I’m bringing your brother with me. Do you have a suite we can sit in or do I have to make arrangements on my own?”
Suites are not fucking free, and he knows that. The fact that he’s asking if I’ll have a suite just readily available for him should blow my mind, but I’m not even surprised.
“I don’t have a suite, Dad. And don’t have any plan on getting one.”
