“Do you have an office?” he asks.
“Not exactly. I have a dressing room, and when I need to use the computer or something, I go to the media room. It’s where most of us work when we’re not on air.”
“How come you’re not working today?”
“How do you know when I work?”
He shrugs and blushes slightly. “I may have looked you up the other night when I was tweeting you.”
“You were tweeting me?” This question displeases him. His smile disappears, and he looks confused.
“Well, I thought it was you. I guess I have the wrong handle.” Julius takes his phone out and shows his social media.
“No, that’s definitely mine, but sometimes Lisette will retweet things during my broadcast. She really manages most of my social media stuff.”
“Ah, so I was flirting with your assistant and not you?”
Now I’m the one blushing. “I’ll be sure to add the app to my phone.”
There’s an awkward pause between us—the “should I say something, or should he?” moment when neither of us knows what to do or how to act. I finally give in and look away from him before acting like I’ve come up with the most fantastic idea ever.
“Do you want to see my dressing room?”
Julius nods, and we head a few doors down from Lisette. Thankfully, we have a cleaning crew, so last night's dinner isn’t stinking up my room. “It’s not much, but it’s ten times what I had when I lived in North Dakota.” He walks around, touches the clothes on the rack, and then sits down on my sofa.
“Damn, this is comfortable. I’d probably fall asleep on this if we had couches in the locker room.”
“You do. I’ve seen them.”
Julius shakes his head and gives me a disgusting look. “Heed my words, never ever sit on anything in the locker room, ever. Footballers are gross. We walk around naked, take quick showers, and believe in superstitions.”
“Okay, well, I feel sick now.”
He pats the cushion next to him, and as much as I’d love to sit next there and get lost in his baby blue eyes, I can’t. I won’t put myself through unneeded agony. I opt for the chair at my vanity. It’s far enough away, and I won’t want to strangle him when his mood shifts.
“So, you have me at the station and gave me a tour. What is it that you want me to do for you?”
“This is a date, right? With no time limit?”
He nods.
“Well, first things first,” I say as I stand. “You need to sit here so I can put some make-up on you.”
“Haha, very funny.”
Except I’m not laughing.
I see nothing but fear written all over his face. “For what?” he asks.
“You’re going on air, Julius. You’re going to do the weather, weather boy.”
His mouth drops open, and I know I’ve beaten him at his little game.
Fourteen
Julius
“I . . . uh . . . there’s . . .” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, but every word possible fails me. There has to be some mistake, right? I must’ve misheard Autumn because there is no way the station will allow someone who has no idea what they’re doing to go on air and report something as scientific as the weather. Then, it hits me. This is a joke because I made fun of Autumn’s job, and she’s trying to prove a point. I start to chuckle and nod. “I get it. I’m sorry for making fun of your job. What you do is very important.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad you have recognized that my job does require some skill, but you’re still going on air.”
“Wh-what? Why?” I stammer.
“Because it’s going to be a humbling experience for you,” she says. “And I think the viewers will love to see Julius Cunningham in a different light.”
“So, this is about PR?”
“No, it’s about showing you there is more to the world than football. Now, come sit.” Autumn pats the black chair and swivels it around so the seat is facing me. I look from it to her and see she’s serious about me doing this. Fuck. Autumn pats the chair again, and I groan. Each step I take is staggered. I’m dragging my feet like a three-year-old who has been told to come to the dinner table and eat broccoli. I really want to ask her if I have to do this, but I’m afraid of the answer. She bought me for the day and technically can tell me to do whatever she wants me to do. And I guess this is better than standing on the street corner dressed as a chicken. Although, no one would really know it was me. Nope, I have a feeling Autumn would alert the news or something. In hindsight, this will be the lesser of any other evil she could come up with.
I finally sit, and my body sags. Autumn spins me toward the mirror, and I lean forward. “Are those bags under my eyes?” The large light bulbs surrounding her mirror illuminate my face. I look horrendous like I haven’t slept in years. I don’t remember looking this bad when I left the house, but hell, maybe I did.
“Yes,” she says. “Not getting much sleep, huh?” Autumn is at her counter, going through her bags and drawers of what I’m guessing is make-up.
“Understatement. Have you ever had a toddler’s feet in your face while trying to sleep?”
Autumn laughs and comes toward me with a brush and some brown stuff. “Can’t say that I have. I’m sure that makes for a crowded bed at night.”
“It shouldn’t since Roxy is so tiny.”
Autumn continues to brush cream or something all over my face. I can’t really say if I like this or not. It’s definitely different, and I’m happy I don’t have to do this for any of my interviews after the game. What a nightmare.
“What does your wife do for work?” she asks.
I sigh and close my eyes when her fingers are nearby. “My soon-to-be ex-wife is trying to make it as an actress in Los Angeles.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? The fact that she’s my ex or an actress?”
Autumn pauses and then goes back to her counter. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. It’s somewhat public knowledge, especially if you watch the gossip shows. She has a boyfriend. She wants a different life.”
“For that, I’m truly sorry.”
“Me too. I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you like your job?”
“I love my job,” she says without hesitation. “There’s a joke that goes around about how being a meteorologist is the only job where you can be wrong and not get fired.”
My eyebrows raise. “That’s a good point.”
Autumn laughs lightly, and I find that it’s a sound I’d like to hear again. “Do you like your job?” she counters.
I shrug, and she steps back. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put my body through it, but sometimes I wish I had that nine-to-five.”
“What does Roxy think about her dad?”
“Roxy goes to the games for the hotdogs and cotton candy. My son, Reggie, he plays as well, but he’s just in Pee Wee.”
“You have a son?”
I nod and close my eyes again while her brush moves gently over my skin. When the sensation stops, I open them and find Autumn staring at me. “He’s eight,” I tell her. “Is that a problem?”
“Why would it be a problem?”
“Dunno, didn’t know how you felt about going on a date with a single dad?”
Autumn chuckles and returns to her counter. “I don’t date men who tend to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
She scoffs. “You’ve treated me poorly since the day I met you.”
“True, but I have excuses. Would you like to hear them?”
Autumn turns and points to the couch. “Your face is camera-ready, but we have a bit before you have to be out there. We can sit over there.” She moves to the sofa, stops at the small refrigerator, pulls out two bottles of water, and hands one to me. We both sit, but Autumn angles toward me, waiting for me to give her every excuse I’ve come up w
ith as to why I’ve been such a jerk.
“Okay, so the first night I met you, I had just come back from L.A. where I had gone to see my ex. The meeting didn’t go well, coupled with some hard liquor and the fact that you’re unbelievably gorgeous, I didn’t know how to react. I heard you talking to Peyton and some other media people and just got it into my head that you were using her to get ahead in your career. There was another time, where I ended up at the bar, and the guys in there were catcalling you. I was pissed, and I didn’t know why.
“Then you were at the game. Funny story, I had never lost a coin toss at home. You show up, boom, I lose. So, naturally, I’m angry. And after the game, you see the bullshit with my ex and her father, plus my kids are in the car screaming. It was like the universe put you in my path at the most inopportune times. If something bad happened, you were right there to witness it.”
“You think I’m gorgeous?” Her voice is quiet, and her brown eyes are piercing.
My head shakes slowly. Not because I disagree with her, but because she even has to question it. “The night of the gala,” I pause and put my thoughts in order. “Everyone stared at you, and it bothered me. I kept thinking, damn, whoever she pays attention to is the luckiest person on the planet because I want five minutes to apologize. I was so pissed off when the emcee announced you had won me, but deep down I was happy, even though I’ve had a hard time accepting the fact I like you and didn’t want you to know. Or even admit it to myself.”
“Could’ve fooled me by the nickname you gave me.”
I chuckle and take a long pull from the bottle of water. “Yeah, I thought I was clever, but I’m just an ass. You have to admit, it’s cute though, Weather Girl.” I reach for her hand and play with her fingers for a bit before letting them go.
“It’s grown on me. I don’t hate it as much, but I’m not okay with anyone else saying it either.”
“So, what you’re saying is, it’s our thing?”
Autumn shrugs, and I take this as a good sign. “You’re a lot different than I thought you’d be today,” she tells me. “I figured I’d want to get rid of you five minutes after our time started.”
“I don’t blame you for thinking that. I haven’t been very nice to you.”
“You were the other day in the park.”
I nod, remembering the morning very clearly. “The way you were with Roxy.” I pause and look at Autumn. “I left her sitting with you and walked away. The whole time I watched your every move. You treated Roxy as if she was someone important to you. After those other kids showed up, every few seconds, you’d put your hand on her leg or turn to her. To Roxy, you’re the famous one because she can see you on television, and for you to make her a priority that morning, it meant the world to us.”
“I know this is going to sound odd, but I felt like I had known her for years. She’s an incredibly special little girl.”
“Don’t I know it.” I reach over and touch Autumn’s hand again. “So, would you date a single dad?”
Autumn shrugs, and my heart falls. She smiles, but it still doesn’t do anything to lift my spirits. “It’s really going to depend on the dad,” she says with a wink. I laugh and groan, knowing I’ve been played.
* * *
Autumn takes me back to the stage. I expect everything to be different with cameras everywhere, and people running around, barking orders. But it’s still the same, with the only exception being Selena Rich and Arthur Brentwood are delivering the news. To say I’m confused would be an understatement. Where are all the cameras?
“You okay?” Autumn asks.
“Confused.” I’m sure the look on my face expresses this as well. “Who the hell are they talking to?”
Autumn pulls me a bit farther into the room, turns me around, and then points up. “Our producers and cameras are up there. The only one down on the floor with us is the teleprompter. All our communication is through our earpieces. Come on, I gotta get you mic’d up.”
“Wait, I thought the entire set was one large microphone.”
“Nope, here slip this wire under your shirt, preferably in the front, and clip the mic right here.” Autumn touches my chest, and I shiver. Our eyes meet, and normally, this would be the right time to lean forward and kiss her. It’s wrong for me to even think about kissing her because of the way I treated her, but I’m not sure if there is a better way to show her I’m not the guy she first met, that the one standing in front of her is the type of person I am.
“Got it,” I hear her say.
“Huh?”
“I’m talking to Marvin. It’s almost time. Come on, let me show you how to do this.”
I follow Autumn. She shows me the teleprompter and introduces me to the guy who makes sure it’s facing the right direction. Then, she takes me to this green screen, and that is when I freeze.
“I can’t do this,” I tell her, but she’s not listening. “I suck at geography.”
Her eyebrows raise as she smiles. “You’re going to stand here and face the prompter.”
“Where’s the map?”
“There isn’t one. Just read what the prompter says and point where you think you need to point.”
Autumn helps . . . more like forces me to stand in a specific spot. She steps away and gives me a thumbs up. This isn’t going to go well at all. There’s a voice in my earpiece, giving me a countdown. My heart starts beating rapidly, and my palms sweat. I’m beyond nervous. I’m anxious and feel like I’m going to crumble to the ground in a heaping pile of embarrassment.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“No swearing, please, Julius,” the voice in the earpiece says. Of course, I cuss again, and then there’s laughter. Great, they’re all mocking me. I’m told I’m on the air and instantly start reading from the screen.
“Hey Rose City, it’s me Julius Cunningham, wide receiver of your Portland Pioneers, and after the break, I’ll have today’s forecast and how the week is going to shape up for you.” Something sparks within as soon as I mention the Pioneers. I can do this. I may not be good at it, and I may not even get any of this right, but I’m going to make this fun and memorable and make sure Autumn knows I’m taking my new job seriously.
Now that I’m on stage, I can hear everything. You really have to pay attention or at least know what your cues are. Selena Rich welcomes everyone back from the commercial break, and then a countdown begins in my ear. I’m poised, ready, and my eyes are focused on the monitor.
“Hey, Pioneer fans. I know you’re excited about this week’s game, and let me tell you, I am as well. Right now, we have a small cold front moving in, which will bring us a couple of days of rain, but by Friday, it’ll be gone. You can expect clear skies on Sunday, but you’ll want to mow your lawn today because the rain will be back Sunday evening.” All while I’m standing, my arms are flailing about. I have no idea what the viewers see behind me, and I don’t care because over in the corner, Autumn stands there, laughing. And to see her laugh, to see her enjoy what I’m doing right now, is the best feeling I’ve felt in a long time.
Fifteen
Autumn
I thought Julius would embarrass himself. At least, that’s what I hoped would happen. I should’ve known his charismatic personality would shine through in a moment like this. I see the error of my ways. I shouldn’t have tried to humiliate him at all. I’m not that sort of person, and I feel terrible.
One of the producers tells Julius he can leave the set; he comes toward me. He’s beaming, and I can’t help but match his grin with one of my own. Julius reaches for me and pulls me into his arms. His very strong, warm, and comforting arms.
“This was the most amazing thing ever. Thank you so much,” he says quietly. Julius’s mouth is so close to my ear I swear I feel his lips press against my skin. I know I probably imagine this, but the fact that he still has me wrapped in his arms and hasn’t let go yet is sending my thoughts in a direction they should not head.
When he steps back, he keeps hi
s hands on my arms, cupping my elbows. His response has caught me off guard. I expected him to tell me he hated being up there, that the lights made him sweat, or the teleprompter moved too fast for him. Or worse, that I made him look like a fool in front of his fans. The thing is, I’m excited he had so much fun. I want him to see my job as something that is serious but also entertaining. Many people think being on the news is stressful, but once the cameras stop rolling, it’s a laugh a minute around here. Most of the time, we have dance-offs during commercial breaks, or Aiden is standing off to the side making faces at Selena or Arthur because Aiden thinks it’s fun to try and make our composure crack.
“You were great up there. A natural. I think you’ve found your calling after retirement.”
Julius nods. “I take back everything I said about you being a weather girl.” He cringes at the sound of my nickname as he says it. “I was so wrong in making any assumptions about you or your job, and I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I am.” I motion for Julius to follow me. We are about to leave the sound stage when the crew comes up to us.
Marvin, my main cameraman, juts his hand out to shake Julius’s. “It was a pleasure filming you today,” he says.
“I’m hoping you captured my good angles.” Julius turns and poses, and everyone around us laughs. Including me. “Seriously though, I had a blast. Anytime Autumn is out, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll gladly fill in.”
I lightly jab Julius in the arm. “Hey.”
“What?” he pulls me toward him and wraps his arm around my shoulder. My co-workers give me a few looks, making me wonder what is going on in their minds. More so, what is going on in Julius’s right now? He looks at me and winks. I like this. The feeling of his arm around me and the way he stares at me. He’s not much taller than me, but it’s enough to make me feel secure. Julius is a friend if I can be so bold as to even call him that. Up until now, I thought he hated me.
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