“This better be good,” I mumbled into the phone.
“Good morning, sunshine. I’m sorry to wake you. I thought you’d be up by now.”
I pushed myself up against the headboard and reached for the bottle of water on my nightstand. My mouth tasted like sour wine and a dull throb filled the back of my head.
“Monday through Friday, I would be. On the weekends, I sleep,” I reminded her.
“Right, I’ll try to remember that next time.”
“It’s okay,” I replied through a yawn. “What’s going on?”
“I’m about to go watch the Stallions practice. I’m interviewing some of the players after, and I have an extra press badge.”
The Stallions were Portland’s new professional football team. The city had been petitioning the powers that be for years, and eighteen months ago, they finally gave their formal approval. The Stallions were owned by Victor Montez, Oregon’s wealthiest citizen. Montez had spent his career building an empire of casinos. He’d moved to Portland after selling out to Montgomery Enterprises, an even larger chain of destination resorts. Rumor had it that he’s a hot head and incredibly difficult to work with. Sportscasters insisted he was exactly who you’d want in charge of a startup team.
“You’re going to the stadium?”
“Yes. Phillip was supposed to go, but his kid has the chickenpox. He’s never had it before, and the last thing he wants to do is walk into practice like Typhoid Mary. Bill threw it to me, said it was my chance to prove I could hold my own with the sports desk. I know it’s short notice, but I have an extra press pass and I thought Ben might like to tag along and fanboy out while I get my interviews.”
“Aw, man, he would have loved that. But he’s working at the club today.”
“Even better. You can come with me and we can gawk at the hot football players,” she suggested and I could almost hear her waggling her eyebrows.
“I don’t know. It sounds like fun. But I had such a long week. I was really looking forward to doing nothing today.”
“I promise you won’t have to do anything physically or mentally exerting,” she pleased. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. You don’t have to do anything but sit in the stands and soak up the sunshine.”
“Okay,” I finally agreed.
“Great. We’re supposed to be there at noon, so I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
“I’ll see you then. Thanks for inviting me, Mel.”
“No problem. I’ll see you soon.”
I ended the call and let the phone fall to my bed. I shuffled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and then dove back between my sheets. I chased two Advil with the rest of my water and told myself I was just going to close my eyes until the throbbing stopped. I woke up three and a half hours later.
Shit, shit, shit. Melissa will be here in thirty minutes and I’m still in my pajamas.
I threw open my closet door and grabbed my go-to boyfriend jeans and a blue and grey raglan t-shirt. I stuffed my feet into black Converse and trudged back to the bathroom to check my reflection. The extra hours of sleep hadn’t done anything to improve my bloodshot hangover eyes and my long hair hung limply around my tan face.
Screw it. I’ll just throw on a hat and a pair of sunglasses. It’s not like I’ll run into anyone I know. But I’ve got to stop making a habit of leaving the house like this.
I swiped a light layer of powder over my face and tied my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. From there, I moved on to the kitchen, brewed myself a cup of coffee, and rifled through my fridge for something that would pass for breakfast. I settled on a yogurt, which I ate over my sink. My doorbell rang just as I set my second cup of coffee to brew.
I opened the door and Melissa greeted me with a broad smile and a bag from the Eight Street Bakery.
“Cinnamon chip scone,” she explained, thrusting the bag into my hand. “I thought you might need a pick me up. You sounded exhausted when I talked to you this morning. Please tell me you were able to get back to sleep. I felt like an ass for waking you.”
I tossed the bag next to my purse on the coffee table and turned back toward the kitchen.
“I just woke up about half an hour ago,” I explained. “Let me pour my coffee into a travel cup and I’ll be ready.”
“We have a little time, if you want to finish your makeup.”
I didn’t even get insulted at the hint. “I’m just going to throw on a hat and sunglasses. There’s no point in doing my face when everyone’s eyes will be stuck to you,” I insisted. “You really do look fabulous.”
Melissa held a hand to her flawless chocolate complexion and smiled back at me. “Do you really think so? I finally had a reason to use my ‘on camera’ makeup my Mom gave me when I landed the job at the station. I was a little worried I’d gone overboard.”
“I think you look perfect. After today, the viewers will be insisting that you cover the sports desk. You know as much, if not more, than the men and you look three times as good doing the commentary.”
The motivation behind my comment was easing Melissa’s obvious nerves, but that didn’t make the words any less true. Melissa grew up in Portland as the only girl in a family of eight kids. She was also the baby and spent her childhood cheering her seven older brothers on from the sidelines of their various athletic events. Melissa paid attention and by the time she was twelve, she was offering her brothers’ coaches pointers during practices.
And Melissa wasn’t just smart. She was also drop dead gorgeous. Her skin was smooth and clear, the color of coffee with just a hint of cream in it. She had dark, doe-like eyes, beautiful, perfectly straight teeth, and the kind of body most people could only achieve with the help of a plastic surgeon: curvy and alluring, without an ounce of extra fat.
“I’m ready when you are,” I announced, stepping back into the living room with my coffee. I tossed one of Ben’s club ball caps on my head and slung my purse over my shoulder. I held my coffee and scone in one hand and locked the front door with the other.
“I can’t believe I’m finally getting some airtime,” Melissa said, her words brimming with anxiety. We buckled ourselves into her Subaru and she backed out of her parking space.
“I’m so proud of you, Mel. I really think this will be your big break. Just try to relax and be yourself during the interviews. The rest will take care of itself.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, navigating through the city. “I need to think about something else. Distract me. What’s been going on with you?”
“Same old, same old. I’ve settled back into my school routine. And I think most of my kids have gotten the swing of things. Aside from that, I’ve just been spending time with Ben and hanging out with Uncle Walt. He’s met a woman and retired, by the way.”
Melissa’s eyes widened. “She must be one hell of a woman.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet. We’re supposed to have dinner on Tuesday.”
“Do you think he’ll finally get married?”
“I don’t know. If you asked me last week, I’d have sworn he’d stay a bachelor his entire life. But now, I’m not so sure. I guess time will tell.”