My mother pauses at my abrupt tone. “Um, I’m not sure if I can make it.”
“Fine, I’ll sell them then. Look, I’m pulling up to the stadium. Call me next week if you want to see me.”
She starts to say something, but I hang up, cutting her off. I’m fuming. Delphine hasn’t made time to see me the past few months, and yet when she wants something, she expects me to drop everything during the busiest week of my life.
My phone pings with a text, and I almost don’t check it. I don’thave time for any more of her shit today. But when I glance down, I see Phoenix’s name, so I open it.
Phoenix: Good morning my beautiful sneak.
My lips curve into an inadvertent smile.
Me: Good morning. Sorry I left without saying goodbye, but you were sleeping so peacefully.
Phoenix: You can wake me up any time. I just wanted to tell you good luck today with your interviews. You’ve got this, and I’m so proud of you.
I press a hand against my throat, feeling so full of love for this man. How did he know exactly what I needed to hear?
Me: Thank you. I love you so much.
Phoenix: I love you right back.
Placing my phone in my gym bag, I head inside to one of the team meeting rooms where Jane, our media relations guru, spends over an hour reminding us of all the things she’s told us a million times.
After that, we go out onto the field for photo ops with donors, followed by a brunch with some NFL players. Carrie’s dad, Axel, is there, wearing the five Super Bowl rings he won with the Fort Worth Wranglers. It could probably have been a fun event, but there are cameras in our faces constantly, and it puts me on edge. I usually deal pretty well with the press, but they’ve really been getting on my nerves lately.
As it became obvious a few weeks ago that the Dragons were headed to the Super Bowl, the vultures began circling and following me everywhere. They even trailed me in the grocery store, and there’s been much online discussion of everything I purchase, from what kind of vegetables I buy to my favorite brand of tampons.
It’s even thrown a wrench in my personal life, making it more difficult to see Phoenix. For our Tuesday dance nights, he started pickingme up in the parking garage, and we enter through the back door of the studio. Phoenix talked to Esperanza, and she warned the class if anyone leaked any information about me, they would be booted from her establishment. Permanently.
And our after-class dinners have been relegated to take-out in Phoenix’s living room.
I’m thrilled everyone is excited about the first ever WNFL Super Bowl, but good lord. What do my tampons have to do with football?
As we head to the media room to meet with the press, Carrie nudges me with her shoulder. “That was crazy. That one chick had her camera so close to me while I was eating, she could probably count my nose hairs. I was so afraid I was going to spill food down my chin and end up as a viral meme or something.”
I laugh. “Same. I know they told us to ignore the cameras, but it’s kind of hard to have a conversation knowing you’re being videoed and photographed.”
“Less than one week,” she says, holding up a single finger. “Coach said we don’t have to do any press stuff the day before the game because she wants us focused.”
I fist bump her. “We got this.”
“Jordie, what are you most worried about regarding next week’s game?” a woman in the third row asks. I’m seated behind a table on a raised platform with Jane hovering at my shoulder as reporters hurl questions at me. I’m not uncomfortable in this setting. In fact, I thrive in press conferences. I could talk about football in my sleep.
I lean into the microphone, my forearms crossed on the table. “Not winning,” I quip, flashing my best smile. Everyone laughs, and when the room quiets, I continue. “Oklahoma City is a very good team. As you know, we only had two losses, and one was to them. But I think we’re a better team now than when we played them in October.”
“How so?” the same woman asks.
“I think our running game is stronger. Sabrina was out with anankle injury for our last game with OKC, but she’s healthy now. That will give Zena the chance to call more run-pass options and really open up our offense.”
A man in the front row asks, “Will Miles Soren be at the game to support you?”
I do my best to keep my face neutral. “I believe Chicago has a game that evening, so he better not be if he wants to keep his job.” Then Jane’s training kicks in, and I deflect. “I’m friends with some of the Philly Beavers, and some of them are making the trip to Houston for the game, and I’m excited to have them here. And I’ll be attending some of their basketball games next summer. We all believe women should support other female athletes, and I’m lucky to have these ladies as friends.”
I feel Jane’s knee against mine in an approving nudge.
“Will Sulley be attending?” someone calls.
“She will, as will Kennedy Jeffries. Also, Kamryn Hart from the Anacondas will be coming, though that's probably just because she’s my agent and I’m paying her.” The room erupts in laughter.
