I play dumb. “Why would they—”
“Because of the major eye-fuck thing, obviously.” She waves her hand dismissively.
“We were not—there was no eye thing—” I choke on my ball of lies. “He was being an ass, like always.”
“Moving on.” She leans in. “Rocko told me he overheard Rick saying that Marcus said he’s thrilled—like, doing a little dance in his office thrilled—about your report today. We’re talking engagement numbers that make Donny’s baseball posts look like my aunt’s bridge club updates.”
My heart skips. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. And you know what this means for tomorrow’s decision, right?”
I try not to let my hopes soar too high. “It means Marcus might remember he basically promised me that position six months ago?”
“Exactly!” Zoe bounces on her toes. “Donny’s been swaggering around here like he already has the job, just because he can get his old teammates to share his workout videos.”
“Well, Marcus seems hypnotized by it.”
Zoe rolls her eyes. “Marcus is hypnotized by the dollar signs he sees with Donny. But now you’ve got beaver sex and hair-butchering Brooks.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “My journalistic legacy.”
“Hey, whatever works.” She perches on her desk. “Donny’s the most obnoxious, egotistical guy in this building. If you get this position over him, I’ll actually throw a party.”
“Girl, you’re always throwing parties.” I smile. “But don’t jinx it—Marcus still has to make the official decision.”
“After today’s numbers? It’s in the bag. But if you’re worried...” Zoe taps her fingernails against my desk. “The clip of you and Brooks is doing really well. Like, really,reallywell. Better than anything Donny’s posted.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking where this is going. “And?”
“And maybe—just maybe—if you could get an exclusive with him? Promise Marcus an actual sit-down interview about his injury, his return to Beaver County, his plans for the future? That would behugefor the station. Huge for you.”
I stare at her. “You want me to use Brooks Kingston to lock in the sports anchor job?”
“Notusehim, exactly.” She winces. “More like... leverage your connection with him for mutual benefit? He gets to control the narrative about his injury; you get to show Marcus you can bring in big-name sports personalities.”
“There’s just one tiny problem with thatplan, Zo. Brooks Kingston can’t stand me. And in case you missed it, the feeling is mutual.”
“But you have an in with him that no one else does,” she points out. “You’re friends with his grandmother. You’re his best friend’s sister. And after today’s broadcast, everyone’s already talking about the two of you. It’s the perfect setup.”
She’s not wrong.
An exclusive with Brooks would be exactly the kind of star power that would tip the scales in my favor. The King never does interviews—not since the injury.
But the thought of asking him for a favor makes my skin crawl.
Brooks has never done anything for me except make my life more complicated, starting with the Great Ponytail Massacre, the drunken slumber party crash in high school, and continuing through college when he somehow convinced Jonah that I was the one who told Coach Peterson about their off-campus party (I didn’t).
And, I’m so,soover hockey players.
“I’d rather eat glass,” I say, being dramatic. “But seriously. I don’t need him—I deserve this position. I shouldn’t have to stoop so low to beg Brooks for an interview.”
“Suit yourself.” She hops off my desk. “I’ve got to run—morning meeting in five. But I wanted you to know. Start practicing your ‘surprised but humble’ face for when they announce it.”
She mimes an exaggerated shocked expression that makes me laugh. “Thanks, Zoe. For everything.”
“LA, here you come.” She floats out the door.
The thought of LA makes my stomach twist with equal parts longing and fear. I want it—the biggest market on the West Coast, the real, hard-hitting sports journalism—but the idea of moving there, of driving on those freeways with four lanes in each direction...
