He shook his head and returned to his path, and I stood still without a comeback.
What the heck was that about? I’m always appreciative.
Well, most of the time.
I walked with a decidedly slower tempo and reached the truck by the time everything was torn down. Tom and Bill had descended from the booth, which was not very plush considering this game was being played at a local high school stadium. The Blitz was not a premier sport, for sure.
“I was just telling Alek what a good job you were doing, Valenti. Great handoffs. You really did your homework,” Tom said.
“Thanks, Tom. You know that I played lacrosse, though, right? I can’t take credit for learning the game from scratch.”
“It wasn’t just knowing the game,” Bill said, shaking his head as he loosened his tie. “It was knowing the league and the players. Those are real pro moves.”
I brightened.
“That’s just how Maisie operates. She’s always been the best,” Alek said.
What? Such a compliment after that lecture out on the field? I tried but failed to catch his eye.
Tom and Bill left their equipment at the truck and departed.
“What was that?” I asked Alek. “First you think I’m not doing my job right, then you praise me?”
He slammed the rear door, then indicated for me to take my seat in the front since we had traveled together. He didn’t start to answer until we were both seated. I was used to his measured responses, not outbursts.
“Look, Maisie, I’m sorry I yelled.”
I laughed.
“Oh, Alek, that wasn’t yelling. At my house, that’s just a normal tone of conversation on a Tuesday. But go on.”
“Like I said. I’m sorry. But it needed to be said. You did a really good job. You always do. You were just at the point of letting your emotions spin out of control.”
“Alek, I wasn’t really. You know me. I just needed to get out my frustration. I know how the business works.”
“I know you do.”
“I just can’t keep it in sometimes.”
“Maisie,” he started calmly, “you’re going to have to. Prima donnas don’t get promoted.”
I opened my mouth to respond but snapped it shut. He was right. And it was something Pop had always said. Be patient. Count to ten. So many things to remember.
“I know, Alek. I guess it’s just part of being the baby of the family and fighting for attention.”
Alek burst into laughter.
“You never have to fight for attention, Mais. You’re like a shining star, kiddo. Everyone gravitates toward you. I’ve known that ever since freshman year.”
I gave him a sideways glance. I really never thought much about how or when we became friends. It just seemed like he had always been there. It was hard to remember that it was only recently that he had come back into my life.
My phone buzzed before I had a chance to answer him. It wasn’t one of the specialty ringtones reserved for my inner circle, and one glance told me it was the station. It was after regular hours, so I didn’t know who it could be.
“This is Maisie.”
“Maisie. Bosch here.”
“Hello, Mathis.” Of course. I pictured him in one of his many florid Hawaiian shirts, leaning back in his chair.
“Good job on the field today.”
“Oh. Thank you. I didn’t know you had been watching.”
“Of course I was watching,” he burst out. “Do you think I wouldn’t want to see your debut?”
I had to pull my phone from my ear to avoid any damage from his thundering reply. Alek heard the response, as well, and shook his head and grinned.
“Okay. No. I mean, yes. I don’t know why I said that.” I punched Alek in the thigh as he rolled his eyes at my discomfort.
“Well,” Mathis continued, unfazed, “keep up the good work. See you back at the station.”
He signed off before I could answer. Probably a good thing, because my instinct would have been to ask why I was cut off.
“Maisie, please take my advice and don’t,” Alek warned.
“Don’t what?”
“You and I both know you want to ask about being cut off. Just drop it. He called to give you a pat on the back. Take it and move on.”
“But—”
“AGAIN, just take this as a win. You’ll have the opportunity to fight the battle another time.”
I scrunched my face and sat quietly.
“Are you still mad at me?” Alek asked.
“What? No, I was never mad at you. You know that.”
“Good. Because it would be very uncomfortable to stop and enjoy a late dinner treat if you were pouting.”
“A treat? What kind of treat?” I couldn’t imagine what he had in mind.
“Nah. You’ll see. You have to be patient.” He reached over and ruffled my hair.
“Oh c’mon. I’m not a child.”
He gave me a glance and pursed his lips.
“What! If you weren’t driving this vehicle, I’d—” I poked him in the ribs repeatedly.
“Stop it! Stop it!” He laughed in the laugh that I remembered from many late study nights at college, and his face shone with that broad Alek smile. Why someone had never snapped him up was a mystery to me.
I ceased in my physical annoyance for safety’s sake, but didn’t cease in bugging him about where we were headed. Eventually, our route confirmed to me where we must be going, and I couldn’t help but revert to a childhood glee.
“How did you know?” I asked as I clapped my hands.
“You only mentioned this diner about a zillion times in college, Mais. How could I not know?”
The parking lot of Pete’s Kitchen was jam-packed, but Alek managed to squeeze the truck into a space on a side street. We passed through the well-worn door, and the server indicated for us to take any seat. I immediately slid into a high-backed booth with cracked leather seats.
“Yummy, yummy, yummy!” I clapped.
“You are such a toddler, Valenti,” Alek said, but with a kind smile.
“Are you kidding? This is the best surprise! Thank you so much!”
I waved away the menu that he attempted to hand to me. I always ordered the same thing at Pete’s, known for its Greek specialties and breakfast goodies, all served twenty-four hours a day.
“You guys ready to order?” Our server appeared with two mismatched glasses full of water and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. Her hair was a violent shade of purple—that is, the side of her head that still had hair, since the other side was neatly shaven. The remainder of her personal statement included two very heavily tattooed arms and a prominent nose ring. Pete’s waitstaff were competent, if a bit individual in appearance.
“Souvlaki plate with fries, extra tzatziki, and an iced tea,” I rattled off. That was always my favorite. No need to make any changes.
She turned to Alek, who was still perusing the menu.
“Um,” he began.
“He’ll have the gyros melt with a side of dolmades. And a Pepsi. Oh, and extra fries.”
“Hey!” he protested as the server moved away.
“Trust me, you’ll love it. I know what you like.”
“Maisie, has anyone told you that you are bossy?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. You. Many times. But that’s why you love me.” I smiled and tilted my head to the side in a challenging manner.
Alek pushed the flop of jet-black hair away from his forehead.
“Yeah. I guess so.” Was there a pause before he answered? No, it must have been my imagination.
The server set our drinks down, and we immediately reverted to junior high antics, blowing the papers from the straws at each other in near perfect aim. We laughed and chatted about the restaurant and other diners like it where we had shared meals, reliving crazy college memories. It was a relief to delay any discussion of the day’s activities until the next workday. Finally, two massive plates wer
e set before us.
“Whoa!” said Alek. “This is an enormous amount of food!”
“I know!” I beamed. “Isn’t it great!”
We took a moment to say a blessing, then dug in as if we hadn’t eaten for days.
“This is awesome,” he said as he reached for one of my fries.
I slapped his hand.
“No! I ordered extra fries for you because I knew you would steal mine.”
“Awe, Maisie. Yours always taste better. You know that.” He continued to eat mine.
“You are incorrigible! Here!” I scraped my fries onto his plate, then took the extra plate of fries and dump them onto my plate.
“Thanks.” He took another bite of his gyros melt, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed. Then he proceeded to grab a huge handful of fries from my plate and stuff them into his mouth.
“What?”
He grinned, his mouth full of fries.
“Are you never going to change, Markovich?”
“Stick around and see, Valenti. Stick around and see.”
16
By the time Alek and I had finished gorging ourselves and we had returned to the truck, I pulled my phone out and noticed I had missed a plethora of calls and texts.
“Rats! It was so loud in there, I didn’t hear my phone.” I scrolled through the messages. As I suspected, they were all from family, or at least from family who were in viewing distance of KDW’s broadcast.
“Are you going to call all of them back right now?”
“What?” I paused, smiling and lost in the congratulatory messages. “No. Most don’t expect it, but I will make this one call. Give me a minute, okay?” I dialed the one number that may have been on speed dial, but I would always know by heart.
“Maisie?”
“Hey, Pop. Sorry I didn’t get back sooner.”
“No problem. Your mother might have been worried, but I knew you were okay.”
It was convenient that my gruff father could always throw my mother under the bus when it came to worrying.
“We stopped for a bite to eat, and I couldn’t hear my phone.”
“Sure, sure. Well. You looked good this evening. Very professional.”
“Is that Coach Valenti’s opinion or my father’s opinion?” I couldn’t help baiting him.
“Does it matter?”
“No, Pop, it doesn’t,” I rushed to assure him. “I guess both are important.”
“Sorry, Maisie. You kids know I can’t separate them out. My professional opinion is that you did a fine job out there. But—”
But? What did he mean “but”?
“But as a father, I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I choked back.
“All right then. You know what you need to do now.”
I smiled. Ever the coach.
“Look at your tapes. See where your strengths were and see where you can improve. Got it? Now don’t stay out late, hear me?”
“I got it. And I won’t. Love you, Pop.”
“Love you, baby girl.”
I disconnected the phone and smiled.
“So? What did he think?” Alek asked.
“He was proud of me.”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I’m not. It’s just …” I shook my head and blew my grown-out bangs from my eyes. “You come from a big family,” I began.
“Ha! Only if you call three boys and three girls ‘big.’”
“That’s what I mean. You should understand how it is to savor the attention when you get it.”
Alek shrugged.
“Maybe you don’t. Let me put it another way, Alek. Where do you fall in the order?”
“I’m the oldest, Maisie. You know that.”
“That’s right. See, there’s the difference. The oldest. The golden child AND a boy.”
“No, no, no.” He shook his head vigorously. “You can’t play that card. The oldest has all the responsibility. Especially in an ethnic family. You think growing up in an Italian household is stressful, try growing up the oldest boy in a household where the parents immigrated from a politically distressed area of the world.”
I forgot.
His parents had immigrated from Croatia right after he was born, after a period of political upheaval. Though he and his siblings had grown up with no direct knowledge of their parents’ war-torn homeland, the family was as strong in maintaining customs and traditions as my Italian one. He only ever spoke in generalities about their immigration, so I never had much of a grasp of the whole story.
“I’m sorry, Alek. I forgot.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, Maisie. I guess I wanted to point out that there isn’t a ‘golden’ child, as you put it. I had a lot of responsibility laid on me. I needed to be successful, you know? For the family.”
I put my hand on his shoulder.
“But you are.”
“Oh, they’re proud of me. I think they just never understood why I didn’t want to be a doctor or lawyer—you know, something traditional? They love me, but I think they still scratch their heads at my career choice.”
“You’d be awesome at anything you do.”
“I don’t know, Maisie. I’m pretty sure they associate filmmaking with commercial movies. Being on the sidelines at football games is not what they planned for me.”
“Well, lucky for both of us that we have at least one sibling who became a lawyer. Our parents can check that off the list.”
“Yes. But you also have a brother who’s a priest. My mother would have been thrilled for one of us to be a priest!” He laughed.
“Too late?”
“Stan and Arron are married with four kids between them. What do you think?”
“What about you? You are still eminently single.”
“Well, I’m still waiting for Miss Right.”
“Don’t wait too long. If she hasn’t come along by now, she doesn’t exist. You may have to settle for Miss Right-Now-You’re-Better-Than-Nothing.”
We had reached the station, and Alek pulled into the space for the truck. He switched off the engine and tapped the steering wheel.
“Oh, she exists,” he said. “Maybe she just doesn’t know it.”
“You are such a goofball. Thanks for the ride, and thanks for dinner! See you in the morning.”
I pecked him on the cheek, opened the door, hopped out, and dashed to my car. I wanted to get home to get some rest before what was sure to be the usual excitement at work the next day.
If I only knew. The word excitement was an understatement.
It began when I arrived at the station in the morning. I was still full of energy, since Phyllis was out of town so I couldn’t bounce the day’s story off of her, and my siblings were not answering their phones.
As I swished open the glass doors, my smile dropped when Rachel at reception leapt to her feet and said “Finally!”
“What do you mean ‘finally,’ Rach? I’m usually an hour early, and even today I’m thirty minutes early. If you do the math, you’ll see that it’ll be another thirty minutes before I’d even be considered on time, much less late.”
Sheesh.
“Yeah, yeah, I get that. I don’t need a lecture on advanced calculus at the moment.”
Advanced calculus?
She saw the squinchy look on my face and rushed to stop me before I said anything further to explain the different mathematical disciplines to her.
“Whatever, Maisie. The point is, the phone has been blowing up with people calling for you, and FINALLY you are here to take your calls.”
Our station policy was that we had a live person direct calls at all times during business hours, rather than have people ring into a faceless answering system. For some reason, our station owner preferred it that way. Needless to say, except for Marilyn—our other rotating receptionist who had been on staff for more than a decade and had a patented system and unflappable personality—we went through
front desk help rather quickly. Marilyn was not scheduled for another thirty minutes, so Rachel was flying solo.
“Sorry, Rachel. I never usually get calls, much less before my normal work hours, so how was I supposed to know?”
She made a show of flipping back her abundant raven curls, shimmied her pencil skirt into place, and sat back down importantly.
“Besides,” I continued logically, “you could have just sent the calls back to Marie for help.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. Marie was personal assistant to Campbell, Tom, Bill, and even Calliope when she did guest pieces. The REAL sports reporters. How dare I suggest that she could take even one call for me.
Rachel’s eye-roll apparently wasn’t meant for me, though, since her under-the-breath comment sounded like a personally disparaging one about Calliope, from what I could hear. I chose not to participate in a gossip session, no matter what my professional feelings were about Calliope, and moved quickly to the sports area. Since I was still the first one to arrive, I would have calm moments to check the copious phone messages that Rachel had sent back.
She was right. When I punched my code in, the number of messages was in double digits. Yikes.
I took a deep breath and started to listen to them. To my delight and surprise, they all were compliments about my reporting from the sidelines:
“Great job, Maisie. Nice to see someone on the sidelines who knows her stuff.”
“Good addition to the team.”
“I don’t usually watch lacrosse, but if you are going to report it, I’ll start watching it.”
“They need to put you on the sidelines for football instead of that idiot they have now.”
Whoa. I liked the compliment, but not at the expense of our football sideline guy!
I got through all the saved messages—and some that came in as I was listening—when a pair of male legs appeared next to my desk. I lifted my hand in a “wait” gesture, finished listening to the last caller, and swung to see who my visitor was.
Oh. Campbell Casey.
“Good morning Maisie.” Broad smile with the bling in the corner of the dazzling teeth.
“Morning ... Campbell.” And, yes, I had to pause because I almost called him Thor.
He perched on the corner of my desk.
“I just wanted to let you know that I saw your work last night. Very good.”
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