Dirty Game

It didn’t make sense. I didn’t cover stories like this anymore. I had put in my time at the station so I didn’t have to do shitty work like this kind of assignment.

“I’ve got two people who are sick, an anchor out early, and I don’t know if I can find enough videographers today. Do I really have to ask if you’re a team player today?”

“No. No. I can be there in thirty minutes. It’s just today is my day off and—” I looked down at the phone, but the screen was blank. Ray had already hung up on me.

Great. So much for my workout and my call with Emily. I peeled the tank top over my head and turned the shower on. I carefully stepped over the side of the tub and reached for the shampoo.

Ray wasn’t the only one at the station who barked orders. It seemed like threats and insults were the only way people in the newsroom communicated with each other. A little professional competitiveness was important, but I had almost forgotten the cutthroat environment I had returned to.

I dumped a handful of conditioner in my hand and lathered it into my hair. I really needed to talk to Emily this morning.

We were planning a girls’ weekend in October. Emily had suggested we meet in New Orleans for a little Bourbon Street getaway. I didn’t want to tell her yet that the producers were going to cut my vacation time.

I picked up my razor and shook the shaving cream can in my hand before squeezing the foam along my leg. My tan hadn’t completely faded. As I ran the razor along my leg a flash of Blake’s thumb rubbing that spot hit me.

Shit! A trickle of blood streamed down my leg. I didn’t have time for this. I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around my leg, hoping the bleeding would stop.

I tried to tell myself that it was completely normal for Blake to pop in my head from time to time. It was going to happen. The bleeding along my calf stopped. What I knew wasn’t normal was that those flashbacks weren’t just every now and then. They were all the time.

A month hadn’t done anything to dull the vibrant colors in my dreams. His eyes. His hands. His hot-as-hell mouth.

I fastened the last button on my suit jacket and slid my heels into black sling-back pumps. In the elevator ride to the basement parking lot, I let out a steady breath. The flashbacks had to fade eventually. It was taking longer than I thought it would, but I knew if I put my mind to it, the loneliness would subside.

The gut reaction I felt every time I flipped past a football game on TV would fade.

I pulled out my phone to call Emily on my way to the station. It was Tuesday, and Emily said we couldn’t talk until after work, but I wanted to let her know I had been called in for an assignment. I flipped the Bluetooth switch on the steering wheel and waited for my best friend to answer the phone.

“Hey. I thought we were going to talk when I got off work?” Emily sounded distracted, but sweet as ever.

“Can you believe this shit? I have to go into work on my only day off,” I seethed as I pulled onto the interstate.

My high rise was one of the buildings along the downtown perimeter. It usually took at least twenty minutes to make it to the station.

“Oh, that sucks. I can talk for a few minutes. My boss just went to lunch.”

“Oh good. I kind of need to ask you something.” I was more nervous than I thought she should be.

“Of course. What’s going on? You ok?” Emily asked.

They were there, right on the brim of my eyelids—heavy, salty tears. Hearing Emily’s voice broke down the last resistance I had.

“I. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” I steered the car toward the nearest exit. Even in my emotional state, I knew I had to get off the interstate or I would be one of the serial wrecks that Ray told me about.

“Where are you? You sound terrible,” Emily pressed.

I parked at the nearest gas station and dabbed at my eyes with a tissue. My eye makeup was completely ruined. “I just pulled over at a gas station. Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be headed in to cover a story.”

“Can you take a few deep breaths?” Emily suggested.

I clutched the steering wheel. “Ok. I can talk again.” I had steadied my breathing.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No matter what I do, it doesn’t matter what it is. I mean I try, and I don’t talk about it, and I don’t think about it and then—boom—it’s everywhere.”

Emily sounded confused. “Girl, I am not following.”

I exhaled. “Blake. It’s Bla