Dru made a face that told me she’d been running her mouth. I gave her a face back that said we’d talk about her lack of discretion later on.
“I never actually went to the cabin,” I said, swallowing the lie. I looked at Walter. “Didn’t you say you had two announcements to make?”
“What? Oh, yes.”
He tucked the paper back into his pocket and plucked the glasses off his nose.
“The other good news is that we received a call from the Kings press office this morning. Sports Insider Online is no longer banned from Kings Stadium. Your press credentials will get you back into the games and press conferences now, and they promise no longer to shoot us on-sight, so it’s a good day, people. And we owe it all to Katie Holmes…” He grinned at me. “I mean, Kate Asher!”
Kate
I propped my chin between my fists and stared at the blank Word file displayed on the laptop screen. The blinking cursor mocked me as I tried to figure out the best way to start the piece I was assigned to write on the differences in compensation between the United States’ women and men’s professional soccer teams.
The story could be great if I came at it from the right angle, or it could be shit if I didn’t. It bothered me that I now worried about the number of hits a story would get.
I knew this story wouldn’t get a fraction of the hits the story on Sean got. I kept telling myself that I had to put the piece on Sean behind me and move on. I was finding it extremely hard to do.
I knew the facts of this story inside and out. I had my copious notes spread out on my little kitchen table. I had print outs of compensation schedules and statements from all the different sides. All the facts were there. The damned story should write itself. So why was I having such a hard time typing the first word? Because my mind was somewhere else.
The article on Sean was still getting tons of hits. I’d been approached by ESPN and Sports Illustrated to talk about coming to work for them. Everyone was impressed with my ingenuity and the results of my work. Everyone except me. I still felt like a shit for what I’d done to Sean.
A press release from the Kings said that Sean was healing well and might make it back into the game before the season ended. Coach Rickets was quoted as saying, “Sean is an integral part of this team. We will hold his spot open no matter how long it takes for him to get well and get back on the field.”
At least things were looking
up for Sean. All I really wanted for him was to be happy. Hopefully the coach’s support was some small compensation for my deception.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get Sean out of my mind. It wasn’t only guilt that I felt, but regret, as well. I treasured our night together, and I regretted that I would never fall asleep in his arms again.
The best thing that I could do would be to file that night away in the Katie Holmes box and get on with my life.
I rested my fingers on the keys and took a deep breath.
“Okay, type,” I said.
My fingers hovered there for a moment. Thankfully, the door buzzer gave them a reprieve.
I glanced at the time as I got up from the table. It was almost nine o’clock on a Friday night. People with actual lives were out to dinner or out at clubs. I had ordered a large pizza from the joint on the corner. My plan was to eat it alone and work until the damn soccer story was done. I picked up the twenty-dollar bill I’d left on the table and carried it to the front door.
“Hi, Bobby—“ When I opened the door, the words caught in my throat. My large pizza was there, but rather than the teenager who usually did the deliveries, holding the box was Sean Donovan.
He looked at me and smiled. “I met a kid downstairs who traded me a large pizza for an autograph. I was wondering if you’d like to share it with me.”
I blinked several times to make sure he was real. He was. I stepped aside to let him pass, then closed the door and followed him into the kitchen.
Kate
“What are you doing here?” I asked, standing with my arms around myself as I watched him set the pizza on the counter. My eyes took stock of him. He looked good; healthy and strong.
“I was told that I could meet someone here,” he said with a smile.
I blinked at him. “Who?”
“I think her name is Kate Asher,” he said, giving me a little nod. “Her friend Dru left a note for me at the stadium and they passed it along. Her note said that she thought we’d be great together.”
“It did?” My eyes flooded with tears. “She’s usually right about such things.”
He stepped closer. The air between us sparked with electricity. He held out his hands and gazed into my eyes. “Do you have something to say to me?”