by Kahlen Aymes
Jensen chuckled. “Yeah. The travel department always books his room on a different floor from the rest of us. He can be like a freight train if he’s sleeping hard. This is not even close,” he joked.
“Does this crew always travel together, then?” I asked quietly.
“Yes.” He nodded, answering softly, and then pulled his other earbud free. “Except when one of us has vacation or becomes ill. Depending on the situation, the rest of us take up the slack when one of us is M.I.A.”
I had to admit that a bunch of people having each other’s back did sound nice. I stuck out my lower lip and nodded. “The family thing.”
His eyebrows shot up, and he flashed a brilliant grin that made him even more disarming. Even in the half-light throwing part of his face into shadow, he was striking.
“See? You were listening.”
“I’m good at it,” I shot back.
“Noted. Check off one job requirement.”
“What are you working on?”
“Researching a couple of the newer players’ stats.”
It made sense. Jensen had been reporting on the NFL for years, so he’d know most every player by heart. In Dallas, I was one of the prime-time news anchors, and much of my commentary had been written for me. I only wrote the outside segments, that I investigated and reported on, myself. I never did sports of any kind, and that was the part of working at ESPN that seemed a bit daunting.
“I see. How do you keep them all straight? The teams and players, I mean.”
“Over time, you’ll learn the teams, the players’ names, and their positions. Some are more memorable because they stick around the game longer, while some are flash-in-the-pan, but even then, there’s usually a college career so begin your research there. Until you get it down, someone will be feeding it to you through an earpiece.” He grinned and closed his laptop. I couldn’t help noticing how his smile went all the way up into his deep cobalt eyes. “Namely, me.” He was studying me. “At least, at first.”
“What do you mean, at first?”
“During your interview with Walsh didn’t he tell you what the production job covered? What shows, segments, etcetera?”
“He just said it was a producer position. No specifics.”
“Well, it’s over the Monday Night football show. At least; during the season, but I’ll also be working with my current crew on a few things here or there. One weekly show won’t keep me busy because some segments are produced through local affiliates.”
“Oh, I see. The remote segments are produced by someone else?”
“Yes. We have regional producers that do that. You’d be working mostly with them.”
“That’s if you hire me.” I found myself wanting to work with Jensen and was a bit disappointed that it wouldn’t be all the time.
“Yes. Are you worried?”
“Outside of the fact that I know so little about football, not at all. I know I can do the job.”
“I’m not worried, either.”
I felt good about his vote of confidence but was curious about something. “If you won’t be my boss most of the time, why is Mr. Walsh making it your decision?”
“Probably because he does want to hire you and feels my job would be a good fit. Who better to judge if you can do it?”
“Is this position a direct report to him, then?”
His eyes were back on his computer screen. “Yes and no. As I said, it’s assignment by assignment. Overall, yes.”
It made sense to a point, but if there were several of these teams, maybe they would move me around from crew to crew. I shook myself from my thoughts. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted an on-air position, so I shouldn’t be getting ahead of myself.
“Are you planning on putting me on the air this weekend?” I asked.
“No. But you’ll have a headset to listen to everything, and you’ll see how it all goes down.”
I sighed in silent relief until he said his next words.
“And, you’ll be following me around on the field and in the locker room.”
“Locker room?” Obviously, I’d heard that women went into male locker rooms all the time, but I never really thought I’d be one of them. “Really?” I grimaced.
“Yes. Don’t worry, though. Men aren’t as bashful as women.” Jensen’s tone was amused.
“Oh, I’m not bashful,” I quickly assured him, though I was inwardly quaking. I’d only ever been with one man, and I wasn’t sure how I’d handle a bunch of burly football players walking around with their junk hanging out on display.
“You’ll get used to it.” He chuckled, flipping over one of the pages and glancing down at it. “There’s also the option of moving to Bristol and anchoring a daily show. The hours are better, and there’s almost zero traveling.”
I wondered why he wasn’t doing that, himself. He was obviously attractive enough; the deep blue eyes and dark hair made for a striking combination. He was also very knowledgeable, and from what I’d seen of him on television, he had a quiet confidence that didn’t come off as arrogance. “Why don’t you do that? Take a studio job, I mean.”
He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Simple. I don’t want to move to Connecticut.”
“I see.” I glanced down at his left hand. No ring, but some men didn’t wear rings. “Your family is here, huh?”
He nodded, and his whole face lit up. “My daughter, Remi.”
So, he wasn’t married, and his ex-wife must have custody of their child. I could see the love radiate out of him whenever he mentioned her, and I found myself thankful that I wouldn’t be working with Jensen Jeffers, after all. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was way too charming, or because part of me didn’t want him to be my boss.
“Remi. That’s unusual.”
“It’s short for Remilia.”
I was about to comment on how beautiful and unique the name was when we hit a patch of turbulence. The plane jolted dramatically, feeling like one of those amusement park rides where you have a sharp, sudden drop. My stomach lurched, and the soft drink I had sitting on my tray table tipped over, spilling the contents. I scrambled to mop it up with the napkin and put the ice back in the glass, but the small bit of paper hardly did the job.
“Snugsshuggggh!” Eric jolted awake with a huge snort. “What the hell?” The huge man turned slightly in his chair, grumbling as his elbow knocked roughly into my shoulder.
“Ugh,” I complained in pain.
“It was only an air pocket,” Jensen explained, unperturbed by the whole incident, his attention once again on his computer screen.
I looked at him with skeptical amusement, and the other man just grunted and closed his eyes, intent on resuming his nap and snore-fest.
“Air pocket?” I was skeptical of the term.
He laughed gently, his eyes softening again. “That’s what Remi calls turbulence.”
“I’ve never taken Dylan on a plane.”
“Really?”
I shook my head. “We don’t take many trips.” The past couple of years had been tough, and I was still paying off my divorce attorney, but that wasn’t the explanation I wanted to share with a potential co-worker-slash-boss. “Dylan adores his Uncle Ben; they go fishing and camping a lot. We don’t travel outside of the region that much.”
“I’ve never been to Wyoming, but I hear it’s just gorgeous.”
“Yes, but no professional sports teams.” My eyes widened for emphasis, and I shrugged sympathetically.
“Right. Camping isn’t something I’ve ever done with Remi, but I bet she’d love it.”
A male flight attendant went around gathering up everyone’s trash as an announcement flooded the cabin. “Ladies, and gentleman, we’ll be landing soon. Please put away all electronic devices, and make sure they are securely stowed at this time. Also, please return your seats and tray tables to their upright and original positions.” A female flight attendant spoke over the speaker system.
Jensen lean
ed forward to speak to Eric, who amazingly had fallen back into a deep sleep in just a minute or two. “Dude. Wake up. We’re landing.”
His eyes opened, and he yawned, forgetting to cover his mouth. “Schhuggg,” he snorted again loudly, startling awake. “Oh.”
I turned away and toward Jensen, who rolled his eyes. “Manners aren’t required behind the camera. Eric’s camera, at least. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m tired, too.” I was looking forward to getting to the hotel and taking a hot bath. Jensen closed his laptop again, shoving the stack of papers he was looking at inside and on top of the keyboard between it and the lid. Reaching down, he pulled his black computer case from underneath the seat in front of him and was soon returned to its former place with the laptop inside.
“I hate these fucking planes,” he murmured, and then looked at me with a grin, two dimples showing up in both cheeks. “Oops. I guess I don’t have manners, either.”
I couldn’t help the happy laugh that burst from me. I was in serious, serious trouble with this man. “It’s okay.”
He was tall, and I could see how the cramped seating on a long flight was bothersome. While the cameraman overflowed his seat, Jensen’s legs were clearly bent in the one position for the entire time on board. He ran a hand through his hair and then over his face. I couldn’t help noticing the strength in his forearms or the way the shirt tightened over his biceps and shoulders when he’d moved to stow his computer beneath the seat in front of him. “These long flights are a bitch.”
Something about this man made me relax, but on the other hand, I was on pins and needles. He had my career, literally in his hands, and it wasn’t the least concerning. My experiences with Derrick weren’t something I wanted to repeat and had colored my entire view of men, so I’d adopted a cool demeanor to keep them at bay. After what happened to me, I had to be cautious… but this man was different, and that made him dangerous. I barely knew him, but he made me feel safe and at the same time, excited. While it was a fantastic feeling, it was also terrifying. The last time I trusted a man had ended with a lot of physical and emotional pain.
No. I had to keep my wits about me with this one.
JENSEN
The network had hired a van service that would be on call for us throughout the weekend, and the drivers picked us up at the airport and took us to the Lux hotel. We always stayed there when we were in L.A.
Before we even arrived at the hotel, a few crewmembers were already talking about meeting for drinks at the hotel bar. There was a three-hour time difference between the east and west coasts, which meant we could stay up a few hours and still be well-rested for the next day. The game wasn’t until Sunday and tomorrow would be spent watching practice on the field and doing pre-taped interviews with the coaches and some of the players. A few of them would be shot live on Sunday, but others were done in advance so they could be edited for length and the producers could use them as needed for filler.
I was riding in front with the driver, and Melissa, the potential new hire, had chosen to get into the very back of the van with Liz Anderson, the director’s assistant, and Michelle Broadmore, the digital editor.
There were enough of us to fill two of the large vans which caravanned to the hotel. I was in awe how many people were involved in the process of producing segments to run during the games; director, lighting director, video editor, graphics, producer, talent, camera and production crews.
Each of the big black vans had four rows of seats, and in this one, the single guys all but fell over each other to help Melissa with her luggage or help her into the van. From the moment we left the offices in Atlanta, their eagerness was barely disguised. She was hot and getting to know her made her even more intriguing; I couldn’t lie. However, as a potential co-worker, it wasn’t a good idea to let myself think of her as a woman; especially a beautiful, delicately feminine one.
I tried to be discrete as I observed and listened to the various crew make exchanges with her as we loaded bags and got into the vehicle. I couldn’t help noticing she was polite, but her tone was measured and cool to the men, but warmer to the women. When we were talking on the plane, she didn’t seem standoffish to me, but maybe it was because I would be making a recommendation to Bryan Walsh. The thought was brief, but I was disappointed by the possibility.
This was her normal time zone and no doubt, she was up early in Atlanta so she might need to go to sleep earlier than the rest of us. Maybe she was just tired, but instinctively, I felt that there was more to the story behind her aloofness. I hoped so, and I was curious. Unprofessionally so.
I mentally shook myself and let out a resigned sigh as we all piled out of the vans in front of the hotel, waiting for the drivers to open undercarriage compartments and get out the bags. As they sat them on the pavement one by one, the owners of each one picked them up and headed into the hotel amongst more conversation about the bar.
Missy collected her black roller bag and waited by the entrance for me.
“Jens! Are you coming to the bar?? Jeremy Nielson, one of the audio techs paused by the electronic doors as several of the others walked on through. “Eric said you’re buying the first round.”
My eyes widened and rolled. “Of course, he did,” I scoffed wryly. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. I’m going to dump off my bags in the room, and maybe I’ll come down. If I see you, I see you.”
He walked up to me so that he could speak softly. “Will you bring her?”
I swallowed and hoisted my duffel over my shoulder. “Um, her name is Melissa, and I’m sure she knows she’s welcome to join. Socializing isn’t a requirement for her job trial.”
I wanted to remind him that he needed to chill. I understood his enthusiasm, but I also knew that even though, for now, she hadn’t been hired, it was still essential to maintain a professional atmosphere. She was an unknown, and while we knew how Liz and Michelle handled basic male teasing, we had to be careful. The last thing we needed was a misunderstanding of someone’s intentions. I cast a cautious glance over at Melissa while she was speaking to the other women.
“But you seemed pretty cozy on the plane. Can you ask her?” He waggled his eyes at me suggestively and punched me lightly on the bicep.
“Down boy. We weren’t cozy. We were making fun of Eric’s snoring.” I couldn’t help the slow smile that slid across my face.
“Come on. That’s cozy,” Jeremy insisted eagerly.
I shook my head. “She might be a colleague soon, so stop ogling, would you? You can’t flirt with her.” I looked him straight in the eye. None of us could; I reminded myself.
“Maybe she won’t get hired, though,” he offered his own misguided reasoning. “Then she’s fair game.”
Could his dick really be clouding his judgment that much? If she didn’t get hired, he’d never see her again. What a freaking loser.
“Hmmmph!” I huffed aloud and shook my head. “Doesn’t matter, man. She’s here on trial, so technically, it’s the same thing.” He was one of those people that was smart as hell about technology, or other things they learned from books, yet didn’t have one shred of common sense. Walsh wouldn’t send Missy on this trip if he weren’t seriously considering hiring her, so I had to keep this kid in check.
“Just bring her.” He winked and went to gather up a blue duffel that the driver had placed on the pavement near the back of the van.
“Should I knock her over the head with my caveman club and drag her there by the hair?” I mocked dryly.
“Whatever works.”
Jesus Christ. I glared at him in annoyance, which did little to quell his moronic agenda. He still wore that stupid expression that said he was going to hit on her hard and heavy despite my warning. Ignorant asshole, I thought in disgust.
Once inside, the staff began to check us into our rooms. There were only two desk clerks on duty, so we all hovered as we waited our turn. The hotel bar, off to one end of the lobby, was pretty busy, but then, it was Friday n
ight. There were several televisions around that usually had sports on them, but tonight it was karaoke. Some poor sap who sounded like a wounded moose was singing, and his awful voice echoed loudly through the lobby.
“Oh, my God,” Liz mumbled. “I don’t know about drinks if we have to suffer that all night.”
I had ushered Missy, and the other two women, in front of me into the check-in line.
“It is pretty bad,” Michelle added.
“My brother, Ben, loves karaoke,” Missy added. “But that guy sounds like a wounded animal.” The crew around her laughed, but I tried to seem disinterested, concentrating on scrolling through the messages on my phone. I smiled softly to myself, noting that Missy had thoughts similar to mine about the pathetic fool wailing in the other room.
“Oh, do you sing?” Liz piped up, her brown eyes getting wide.
Before Missy could answer, Jeremy was embedding himself into the conversation. “I bet you’re awesome. I’d love to hear you sing. Can I carry your bag for you?”
“No. I mean, I don’t actually sing much. And, thank you,” Missy answered stiffly, scooting the suitcase closer to her feet. The easy-going demeanor evaporated instantly, and everyone noticed. Jeremy’s face showed his shock at the rebuff and the women’s surprise registered on both of their faces. Missy bristled. “I’ve got it.”
Jeremy’s eyes met mine over their heads, and I could see he was pissed. I licked my lips and shook my head almost imperceptibly, hoping he’d back off, but he wouldn’t let it go. “Don’t,” I mouthed adamantly, though the word didn’t escape my lips.
“I was only trying to help,” he sulked.
“I don’t need your help.” Missy’s tone was abrupt and a bit sharper than needed, and she folded her arms over her chest and looked at the floor. “Thank you, though,” she added, more softly.
“You like to carry your own shit. Got it,” Jeremy retorted, indignantly.
“Jeremy,” I admonished, holding out a hand that told him to lay-off, even though I felt the arctic freeze coming off of Missy during their exchange. Even if I thought she was overreacting, he needed to back the hell off.