Game On

by Barbara Oliverio

  “You’re right about that,” I nodded. “But I am not responsible for giving all the guys that swarm around you a lesson in ‘Devaney’s interests’.”

  “Swarm? Really, Maisie, how you exaggerate.” She batted her eyelashes with the full knowledge that her face and figure were enviable.

  We fell together laughing when the distinctive jingle of the bells over the door interrupted our break from work. Devaney stepped forward to take the order, while I busied myself with the goods in the case. After the customers retrieved their beverages, they took a seat at one of the tables in the corner, and I glanced over to see who they were. I recognized Rickey Glendenning, top forward for the local high school basketball team. He had been a phenom since his days in youth basketball and tore up the courts as a freshman. It was hard to miss him at nearly six foot five sprawled on one of the cafe’s small chairs. His mom and dad were with him, along with someone I didn’t recognize at first. I cocked my head to try and see under the ball cap he was wearing.

  Holy moly.

  Steph Curry?

  I pulled Devaney into the back room.

  “Do you see who is with the Glendennings?”

  “An amazingly hot guy. Who do you think he is?”

  I punched her in the shoulder.

  “That’s Stephen Curry!”

  Delaney shrugged.

  “Stephen Curry! Golden State Warriors! First NBA player unanimously voted MVP!”

  She grabbed me by the shoulders.

  “Maisie, none of those words mean anything to me. I get that Mr. Hottie must be some huge sports guy, but why are you acting like he’s … all that?”

  “Because he IS ‘all that.’ Let me put it into perspective. What if Tom Hiddleston or Benedict Cumberbatch walked in here?”

  She gasped. I knew I would connect the dots for her by naming her current celebrity crushes.

  “See? That’s what I’m saying, Dev. But what is Steph Curry doing here?”

  Devaney returned to the front to watch the cafe, and I started to pace. It only took a nanosecond to figure out that he was visiting the Glendennings, and Rickey in particular, to recruit him. My reporter instincts were on fire. In any case, whatever this visit was, it would be an amazing scoop.

  I yanked my phone from my pocket and called my producer and explained the situation.

  “Who would have thought!” he said. “Do you think we can get an interview, Maisie? Why on earth do you think they are out in public, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I bet they thought no one would recognize him in this tiny town.”

  “They weren’t banking on you!”

  “I guess not!” I grinned.

  “Okay, I’ll send Lars and Frank over.”

  My heart sank. Lars and Frank? I could see sending Lars with the camera, but why Frank? I was already here, on-site, and a trained reporter.

  I cleared my throat. “Um. Why do we need two reporters?”

  “No offense, kid, but I think someone seasoned should handle this.”

  “Because I don’t know how to ask simple questions? Or because I’m a woman?” I fumed.

  I felt the pause as he was choosing his words carefully. The words that came out of his mouth would be very important. He knew as well as I did that he didn’t have a real reason—and that anything that smacked of a yes to either of my questions would get him in trouble with Gordon.

  “Okay-ay. I’ll send Lars. Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “Are you sure you want to ask me that question?”

  Silence.

  “Okay,” I continued. “But listen, just call Lars and tell him to bring mike equipment and wait outside until I text him when I’m ready for him to come into the cafe. I don’t want a cameraman just showing up here as if we assume an interview is a done deal.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.”

  We finished our call, and I prepped myself to walk out front by whipping my apron and cap off and making myself as presentable as possible. Luckily I was wearing black skinny jeans and a black top that could pass for professional garb. Touching up my makeup in the tiny mirror behind the door, I took a deep breath and walked out to take advantage of destiny.

  5

  “Barkeep, set ‘em up again!”

  Cheers arose from the table as Gordon called for an unprecedented additional round of drinks. I grinned widely as my colleagues turned my name into a repeated cheer.

  “Girl, you really showed your stuff, didn’t you?” Genette gave me a tight sideways hug.

  The entire office had gathered at the VFW lodge—the closest bar—to celebrate my scoop with Steph Curry. Not only had he agreed to be interviewed, but he was his charming self throughout. The icing on the cake was that the footage was picked up and used on ONESport’s daily Sports Focus show. Imagine! My interview being used on the nation’s premier daily sports round-up show, which meant it would be in rotation for at least twenty-four hours!

  Genette continued her compliments. “You looked great, too. Strong, confident, like you had been doing this all your life.”

  “Well, in a way I have.” I recalled all my practice interviews with my stuffed animal collection and my reluctant brothers when I was a child.

  We were a boisterous crowd. I had to break away occasionally to answer phone calls from people still trying to reach me after seeing the broadcast.

  “Hey, A-Maze-ing,” began producer Dave, using his nickname for me that he thought was clever but had in fact followed me around since high school. “You just might be good at this.”

  “Thanks, Dave. Glad I could almost live up to your standards?” I couldn’t work out whether he was giving me a compliment or not. No time to obsess over it, though. The interview was in the can, and I had a really good piece for my portfolio.

  My phone buzzed again, and when I saw the name, I cheerfully moved away from the alcohol-induced noise of the crowd to take the call.

  “Phyllis! Did you see the interview?”

  “How could I not? Do you know how many messages I got reminding me to watch it?”

  “I only called you once … well, twice—and where were you, anyway, that you couldn’t answer my calls or texts?”

  “Calm down, Maisie. I figured I’d watch before I called you back.” Phyllis was a very practical person, not given to wasting phone time.

  “And …?”

  Really, she could be so infuriating. She was so measured with her thoughts. Just say something already!

  She finally broke out in a very un-Phyllis-like burst. “You were fantastic, Maisie! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had been doing this professionally for years. The way you interacted with Steph and the family was perfect. I know how cheesy that can come across, but you are just a natural.”

  “For real?”

  “For absolutely real! You were made for this, and you know it. I’m so proud of you. Dad was watching with me in the office and thought you were better than so many sportscasters he’s seen.”

  “Well, he would know.”

  A loud whoop came from my table, and I turned to see Genette standing in the classic hands-clasped-overhead boxer championship pose. I needed to return to see what fresh chaos was erupting with these normally mild-mannered people.

  “Phyl, I better get back to our table before we are barred from the VFW,” I said.

  “Now THAT’S what I really want video of!” she laughed.

  “You and me both, sister. I’ll catch you later.”

  I returned to the table to witness Lars, the camera guy, peeling two twenties off a surprisingly thick roll to hand to a grinning Genette. My look must have asked my question for me.

  “Arm wrestling. Don’t ask,” said Dave.

  “Not going to.”

  “So who was that?” he continued.

  “My best friend, Phyllis. She had just seen the interview and wanted to congratulate me.”

  “Phyllis? Who has a name like that?”

  Who ma
kes a judgment based on a person’s name? When I first arrived at the station, I found Dave to be rather attractive with his blond, curly hair and dimpled grin. As time went on, some of the things he said overcame his looks. In fact, a lot of the time, I found him rather tedious.

  I knew better, but I had to ask. “What does that mean, Dave?”

  “Well, Phyllis is the name of, like, your great-aunt or the old lady that works at the Dollar Store. You know, frumpy and boring. I bet you became friends with her just so you could look better.”

  Idiot.

  “Hmm. Nailed it, Dave.” I smiled inwardly. “Do you want to see a picture of her?”

  “Yeesh. I guess so.”

  I pulled out my phone and found the latest picture Phyllis had texted to me. Dave focused on it, then looked up at me, shaking his head.

  “Come on, Maisie, this is the cover of a magazine. That’s a swimsuit model.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s my friend. Phyllis Hathaway.”

  “What! No way.”

  He whipped his head back to take in Phyllis’s lush figure, perfect face, doe eyes, and cascading ebony hair. I took the phone from him and found another picture.

  “Read the caption, Dave.”

  “Football legend Dante Hathaway with his wife, Carolee, daughter Phyllis, and family friend.” His voice trailed off as he looked at me, the “family friend.”

  I leaned back to enjoy the pause. “Uncle” Dante had gone on to fame in the pros, and my pop had gone on to coach. Phyllis’s dream had been to model—maybe even run a modeling agency, and she certainly had the looks for it. But she used her marketing degree and worked for her father in his numerous auto dealerships while moving into her own career. I waited for Dave’s chin to raise from the floor before I explained this to him.

  “Hey,” Dave slurred to the others as he waved my phone around, “do you know who Maisie’s friend is?”

  I had to explain my connection to the gorgeous model on the phone and my connection to Dante Hathaway again. It was then that the obvious question hit.

  “So, wait, your last name is Valenti. Your dad wouldn’t be Sal Valenti, would he?” Dave sat up, putting two and two together.

  Rats. I forgot that in trying to put Dave in his place, I would bring my connections to the forefront.

  “Well, yes.”

  “But you didn’t tell me that when you interviewed,” Gordon pointed out.

  “You didn’t ask,” I replied meekly.

  His brushy eyebrows gathered together.

  “Your father is Sal Valenti, and his best friend is football Pro Bowler Dante Hathaway, and you didn’t think that would be interesting to me when I hired you for a sports position?”

  “I wanted you to hire me for my knowledge. I didn’t think you’d hire me if you thought I was dropping their names.”

  Gordon burst out into a hearty laugh.

  “Young lady, I could tell immediately that you knew your stuff when I interviewed you. If you didn’t, I don’t care if your father was the football commissioner and your mother was an Olympic champion. I wouldn’t have hired you. You need to know that you should never hide your background, because it makes it look like you are ashamed of it.”

  Oh. I never looked at it that way. It wasn’t that Pop didn’t want to make calls for me because he didn’t think I was capable. He wanted to let potential employers know that he had confidence in me, and he knew they would take his word because he was respected. I should have known that he’d expect me to live up to his expectations and not just coast on his name. I resolved to call him and apologize that night.

  “Well, all I know is that our Maisie is good at what she does.” Genette returned my phone to me and swiftly changed the topic. “Now, who’s going to take me on in the next round?”

  Among shouts and laughter, she placed her elbow definitively on the table, ready for her next arm wrestling contender.

  I was ready to return my phone to my pocket and let any other calls go to voicemail when I saw it ring with an unfamiliar number. I debated on letting it roll over but for some reason answered it.

  “Ms. Valenti, do you have a moment to speak with me? This is Addison Thornton from KDW in Denver.”

  I knocked my chair back and dashed outside to a quieter location.

  “Yes?” I caught my breath and matched her crisp professional tone with one of my own.

  “We’d like to speak with you about an opening here at KDW in the sports department. The head of the department reviewed the footage of your interview with Steph Curry and liked what he saw.”

  Although it seemed like an eternity passed while I did an impromptu dance, I managed to answer without sounding like a clod.

  “Thank you very much. I would appreciate that. When were you thinking of an interview?”

  “That would be up to you, Ms. Valenti. Are you available Monday?”

  Was I available? WAS I AVAILABLE?? I quickly calculated the best travel schedule that would cause the least problem for both of my jobs. Wait … what was I worried about? This was an interview for a real, full-time job. One where I probably wouldn’t have to froth cappuccinos on the side to make ends meet. I would make it work.

  “Monday is perfect, Ms. Thornton. Just let me know the time and place.”

  “Give me your email address, and I’ll send you the details. When you get the email, please let me know if you have any other questions. Do you have any questions for me now?”

  I gave her my info, then had a pang of worry.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get my contact information?” I lapsed back into thinking that my family was inserting themselves into my life.

  “One of our staff made the recommendation based on the Sports Focus program, and we tracked down your phone number.”

  Whew. I could erase the thought of my dear mother banging on the door of KDW with a homemade lasagna and a picture of me, demanding that they interview her baby. Not that she would actually do that, but, well …

  “Any other questions?” Addison Thornton obviously had other things to do.

  “No, thank you. I’ll look forward to your email.”

  We disconnected, and I stood tapping my phone against my chin. Wow. An interview. With a station that contacted ME. After a moment, I went into gear, calling my boss at the cafe explaining my situation. Being a supportive person, he immediately agreed to my time off. Then I called to make arrangements for travel and then, most importantly, accommodations.

  “Ma! I need to be in Denver on Monday. Do you have room for me to stay?”

  “Baby! What a question! Of course!”

  I beamed. My parents always had room for my brothers and me in their comfortable suburban home, but I felt it was the right thing to do to ask.

  “What do you want for dinner while you’re here? Would you rather have cake or pie for dessert? Why are you coming?” Leave it to my mother to get to the important questions first. I took a deep breath, told her, then pulled the phone away from my ear to escape the shrieks of joy.

  “Ma! Ma!” I finally broke in. “I’ll call you later with details about when I’m getting there. Right now, I have to get back to my celebration with the rest of the office. And I’d like gnocchi. And chocolate cake.”

  I disconnected and took a deep breath before joining my colleagues. This wasn’t news to share with the crowd. I’d tell Gordon privately, but for now we’d continue with the party.

  “What’s up?” Lars asked.

  “Ah, just another fan calling.” I crunched into one of the nachos from the pile on the platter in the middle of the table and savored it, while I also savored the news I had just received.

  6

  You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

  “Pardon me, Miss, did you say something?”

  Without even glancing, I knew that the passenger who had just joined me in the elevator was giving me that look reserved for the people you pass on the street who are having conversations
with invisible friends. Rats. I must have been using my outside voice.

  “What? Oh, sorry. Just talking to myself,” I said. As if that wasn’t obvious.

  “I guess we all do that from time to time,” he said.

  I nodded and focused on the fascinating rows of lighted buttons in front of me so that my face wouldn’t reflect how embarrassed I was for being caught. I usually don’t worry about what people think, but being mistaken for being odd in that way had rattled me. The “ding” mercifully sounded for what turned out to be his floor, and I kept my head down as he stepped forward. He turned at the last moment and gave me some parting words of wisdom.

  “Whatever it is, I am sure you CAN do it, though.”

  My head whipped up as the door began to close, and he swung around to start on his path. I caught a glimpse of the back of a towering image with a perfectly combed blond head and a meticulous suit jacket and slacks. Just for a moment, I forgot my task, but when the elevator reached my floor and the doors opened again, I remembered.

  Interview.

  Gulp.

  I was beginning to wish I had come into town last night and gotten a good night’s sleep at my parents’ house, rather than making the trip this morning and coming directly to the interview. Oh, who was I kidding? I would have gone through a different set of nervous worry. My mother would have ironed me to within an inch of my life and insisted I eat a “good” breakfast that I’m sure would have consisted of enough food for an army along with a to-go snack “just in case.”

  Well, no matter. Here I was.

  I stepped out of the elevator, straightened my own jacket, and smoothed my skirt. I was wearing my favorite important suit, one that I thought made me look like Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday with its nipped-in waist and sleek pencil skirt. The color defied definition. Was it eggplant? Plum? Raisin? I was sure it gave me an air of confidence with a touch of oomph. I had been delighted to find it in my favorite vintage shop the last time I was home visiting my folks.

  I couldn’t tell much about KDW’s employees since the only person in the reception area when I arrived was the receptionist. I had time to take in the modern decor, however, and as I waited to be called back for my interview, I couldn’t help but compare the sleek interior to the well-worn digs of my current employ. I guess when you’re the number one news provider in a top media market, little things like providing up-to-date furniture for the staff aren’t too difficult.