Why do I care? Why does it matter what she says?
Tension grips my shoulders, and my stomach is sick. I stand waiting for the words. Instead, he hands me his phone. TMI already has the pull-out quote, and it’s precisely what I’d expect.
K-Brad is the guy who turns the meat every five seconds instead of trusting the process. We’ve got a kitchen full of smoke and no dinner.
I push the phone back into his hands. “She’s really doubling down on the kitchen thing.”
Fonz wipes the back of his wrist over the smile he’s trying to hide. “You started it.”
I can’t argue with that, so I don’t.
“Huddle up!” The team gathers around me, and I do mybest to give them a pep talk. “This game is well within our reach. We’ve practiced. We’ve done the drills. We’re ready. All we have to do is relax and trust the process. Can we do that?”
Did I just quote the Quarterback Princess?
The guys shout back a yes, and we do our hype routine. All hands go to the center of the circle, we grip each others’ wrists, then we shout in unison,March In!
Then we head back out to the field.
CHAPTER 6
Melody
“What do we do if this turns into a winning streak?” Lindsey reclines in her chair, headphones around her neck, grinning at me. “Are you going to start complimenting him?”
My brows lower as I consider this new twist. “Nobody’s perfect.”
I’ve been live-covering the season opener in Glendale, and our fans are blowing up the site with their comments—largely in agreement with me.
The first play of the game was pure gold, and I thought for a moment it was over. Knox Bradford had taken my notes and found some discipline. He was moving quickly, looking for an opening, completing passes.
Two new receivers have joined the team, seemingly hand-picked by our favorite foot-chewer. Even better, they actually know what to do when the ball lands in their hands (i.e., Dodge the tackle and run it into the endzone.).
They replaced last year’s defensive coordinator with someone who understands the fundamental tenet of football: You can’t win games without a strong defense.
I’d been all ready to proclaim my work here done… Then the wheels fell off.
The Cardinals linebacker finally got his wish and broke through the line to sack K-Brad. The next few plays kept going up the middle, until even I was shouting at the screen for them toStop doing that!
Sadly, their tried and true I-formation fell apart. Bradford had a great passing game, but he had no strategy. In the end, they lost the season opener, and after that first incredible, fifty-yard touchdown, it was especially bitter.
Looks like I don’t have to worry about Lindsey’s very important question just yet.
“Gordon Ramsey called,” I say to conclude the show. “He’s giving K-Brad the Kitchen Disaster Award for hyping us up for a great meal, then burning the wings and dropping the pizza.”
Lindsey leans forward in her chair, snorting. “Perfection!”
The corner of my mouth pulls with more of a cringe than a smile. Standing, I take the headset off my head, exhaling heavily as we switch off the equipment.
“Despite popular belief, this doesn’t make me happy,” I tell her. “I mean, sure, at first it was fun to punch up, but I’m a Saints fan. I’m pissed. We should’ve won that game.”
“At least you helped the medicine go down with a good old-fashioned Sour Patch Kid.”
“I’ve never been much for sugar. That’s Coco’s area.”
Our third bestie is following in her mother’s footsteps as a high-end baker.
Lindsey stands, wrapping her arm around my neck. “Let’s go out and drink. Maybe even dance. Or we can hit the piano bar at Pat O’s and sing along at the top of our lungs.”
