Changing the Play

by Julia Blake

  “You saw the story?”

  She scowled. “My job has now become that story. All of my other clients are on the back burner because we’re in crisis management.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and looked chagrined. “That was a stupid question.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and set her weight on one hip. “It was a good story. Great even. You really managed to capture the fear behind Kevin’s meltdown.”

  He straightened a little, and she knew she’d gotten a decent shot in. “I did what I’m required to do.”

  “And so did I,” she said, opening her purse again and pulling out her keys.

  “If I could take it all back, I would.”

  No. He didn’t get a do-over. He didn’t get to be forgiven just because he said he was sorry. It didn’t work like that.

  “Convenient that you’re having this moment of realization now after the story’s aired,” she said.

  “I’m serious, Rachel. I’m sorry I hurt Kevin’s chances in the draft. But even worse, I hurt you.” His voice sounded a little strangled now, as though he was having trouble speaking around a lump of emotion high in his throat. “I wish I could go back to before.”

  “You’re a lot of things, Nick, but a liar isn’t one of them. Don’t start now.”

  His mouth twisted, in frustration maybe? She didn’t know. It was as though she’d lost the ability to read him the moment they’d gone to war.

  “Okay, no,” he said. “I wouldn’t take the story back. It was a damn good piece, and as a work of reporting, I’m proud of it.”

  She nodded. “That sounds more like the truth. I can respect that.”

  “I take what I do seriously. It might not make sense to other people, but I have a code, and so does my job. I do regret everything I said about you and your work, though. I shouldn’t have doubted that you put Kevin’s health first. That was bullshit. I respect you too much for that.”

  Hearing him say it finally drove home what she’d known all along. This relationship was impossible. Pick his job, the story, his ethics, and she’d have to cast him as the enemy. Pick her and push all of those things aside, and she wouldn’t respect him as a professional.

  He couldn’t call the right play if he wanted to, but that was the thing. Relationships weren’t fair. The playing field wasn’t always level, and you definitely didn’t get to see the other side’s playbook during the game. Nick had hurt her with the things he’d done and said. He didn’t get her forgiveness just because he’d asked.

  “Why are you here, Nick?”

  He spread his hands before him. “For a second chance.”

  She didn’t even need to think about her answer. “No.”

  He blinked at her a couple of times. “No?”

  “I’m not a second-chance kind of girl. You said things you can’t take back. You insulted everything I do and everything I stand for.” Her voice grew stronger as she gave in to her ire and disappointment. “You and the rest of the world might think I’m just a greedy agent out to make fifteen percent, but I care about the careers of my players. I care about my players, period. Both of those things matter to me, and that’s what makes me damn good at my job.”

  “It was a stupid thing to say.”

  “But you said it. That means that at some point you’ve thought it. But that’s not the real problem, Nick. The real problem is that I’m still the girl sitting in the first row on the baseball bus, invisible unless you need your stats line confirmed or you forgot your pizza money. Have you ever thought about how all of your memories of me have to do with sports or favors I did for you?”

  “That isn’t true,” he protested.

  “Name one. You claim I was distant—not some bubbly teenage girl—but you didn’t even try to get to know me. We went to school together for four years.”

  Defeat washed over his face. “I was an idiot. Every high school boy is. That’s not me now.”

  She shook her head. “And the invisible girl isn’t me either. I’m not just here to make magical stories work out for you to save your job. My life is crazy. I work too much and I spend too much time with a bunch of athletes—mostly men—who make too much money for their own good playing the games children play in their yards. And I love my job. It’s a part of who I am. All tonight proved was how incompatible that makes us.”

  His hand pressed down hard on the spot just above his heart as though he was trying to keep a swelling pain in. A little part of her broke at the sight, but she steeled herself. He wasn’t the only one hurting, but her own pain was wrapped up in the thick fabric of anger and disappointment.

  She turned her keys in her hand, searching out the right one. “Goodbye, Nick.”

  She pushed past him to her front door, but he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I love you.”

  The words swept over her, but it wasn’t happiness she felt. It was bitter disappointment. Another tactic from the man who just couldn’t stand to lose.

  “No, you don’t, Nick.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you didn’t tell me until you thought it might get me to stay.”

  The tumblers of the lock turned, and she pushed the door open. Without looking back, she closed it in his face and slumped against it. A silent sob escaped from her, and she slid down onto the floor.

  Without meaning to, she’d fallen for him—her love now so much deeper than any teenage crush. But he’d never know that because they just didn’t work together. They were a couple who wasn’t meant to be. Reporter and agent. Easy charmer and ice queen.

  She pushed at the tears that spilled down her face. He wasn’t worth it. Maybe if she repeated that, she’d start believing it.

  Chapter 21

  Despite the months of tension, the day more layoffs came to NYSN was a surprise. At least it was to Nick, but that might’ve had something to do with the empty haze he’d walked in for a week after the Loder story. A week after Rachel had turned him down flat.

  He was getting ready for work when all of a sudden his phone started blowing up with messages from the dayside crew. The head of HR and the news director were pulling people into the large conference room one by one. Then a pair of security guards would escort them out of the building. No job. No prospects. A sucker punch.

  Nick walked in for his shift at three o’clock and immediately looked for his friends. Mindy was nowhere in sight, but Erica popped her head out of her cubicle.

  “Have they spoken to you yet?” he asked, dropping his voice so no one could hear them in the eerily quiet newsroom.

  Erica’s lips formed a thin line. “No. They’ve been working their way through the producers for the last hour. Nightside on-air talent hasn’t been touched. Yet.”

  “How many so far?”

  “Thirty-two,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “It makes me sick.”

  With good reason. With that many people already gone and more to cut on the later shifts, no one was safe. Especially not a reporter like him who had just a few years with the company and a reputation he couldn’t shake.

  “Did they give any details when they started?” he asked.

  Erica shook her head. “Just some stuff about the changing sports TV market and the company needing to be more efficient. I think the direct quote was ‘agile and competitive.’ ”

  That didn’t sound promising.

  Erica began to drum her fingers on her desk, a nervous habit she only restrained when in front of the cameras. On the fourth finger of her left hand shone a very large rock of the diamond variety.

  Nick pointed to her hand. “Forget the layoffs. When did this happen?”

  She blushed. “You’re worse than the girls in the office.”

  “They haven’t had to put up with hearing about Richard the amazing executive VP for months,”
he said, trying to keep the tone light and teasing despite his own unhappy love life. “Spill it.”

  “It happened Sunday morning. We were lying in bed with coffee and the Times, and then suddenly he was down on one knee.”

  As happy as he was for his friend, he couldn’t help feeling sideswiped. He’d never get that with Rachel now—not that they’d been that far along in their relationship, but maybe one day he would have put a ring on her finger.

  Never going to happen, he reminded himself.

  He tried his best to force his smile into place. “Congratulations. I’m surprised you can still lift your hand with the size of that rock.”

  Erica shot him a look. “What about you?”

  Nick grunted as he dropped into his desk chair. “You know I went to ask for her back and she shot me down.”

  “Well yeah. Because it was still too raw. But that was a week ago,” said Erica.

  The longest week of his life. He saw Rachel everywhere, on the street, in his building’s lobby. She was always lingering there at the edge of his vision until he turned and realized it was just him longing for her.

  “You think I should go for it again?” he asked.

  Erica looked down at her ring, twisting it with her other hand. “I’ve never seen you so wound up about a woman, and that has to count for something.”

  He was about to speak when the nightside Sports Desk executive producer, Sandy, walked up to the cubicle. “Nick,” she said, her voice quiet and sad.

  Shit. He was going to lose his job. All of that work on Kevin’s story and nothing. He’d killed his chance of happiness with Rachel for a pink slip and a perfunctory goodbye.

  “They want me in the conference room, Sandy?” he asked.

  She nodded, and next to him Erica made a strangled sound. When he looked back at his friend, her hand was clamped over her open mouth. All of them knew what was about to happen.

  He stood and straightened his unbuttoned suit jacket. His tie was rolled up in his bag, and he thought for a moment about delaying to put it on. In the end, it wouldn’t really matter. If his name was on a list of cuts, the proper neckwear wouldn’t make a difference.

  “Congratulations again, Erica,” he said with a smile. Then he did something he’d never normally do at work. He kissed her on the cheek. “I hope you and the executive vice president are very happy together.”

  His friend’s eyes shone with sadness, but she managed to say, “I’ll send you the wedding date as soon as we figure it out.”

  “I’ll be there. Okay,” he said with a nod to Sandy. “Let’s go.”

  Nick followed his executive producer through the newsroom. All of his coworkers kept their eyes on their computer screens. Empty desks dotted the bullpen. It was like walking among the gravestones of careers that had died here in the NYSN newsroom.

  When they got to the conference room, Sandy murmured a brief “good luck” and left Nick to open the door himself.

  The news director, Micah, and the head of HR, Kim, sat at the long table waiting for him. Across from them, nearly twelve feet away, sat a small stack of paper and a pen neatly lined up. Clearly they wanted him at a safe distance. Nick didn’t really feel like playing ball. He snatched the papers and pen and moved down the table to sit just to the right of Micah.

  “You’re,” Kim glanced down at her notes, “Nick Ruben.”

  “That’s right,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And you’re the people who are going to lay me off.”

  Micah mimicked his posture in what Nick was sure was Leadership Training 101. Put your employees at ease by imitating their body language. Except Nick wasn’t at ease at all.

  “As you may have heard, the cable industry is contracting,” Micah said.

  “We’re offering a select number of employees a very generous buyout package,” Kim jumped in.

  “A package?” he asked. “So you’re laying me off, but you’re tying it up in a neat bow.”

  “We’ve discovered,” Kim continued, “that many employees find this package beneficial. It’ll give you a chance to find your feet while you’re looking for another job. Some people even use it to pursue a passion and take a sort of informal sabbatical.”

  “Well,” Nick said, looking down at the paper that had his name typed in big, bold letters at the top, “that’s certainly one way of seeing it.”

  Kim smiled. “I’m glad you understand. Now, the package that we’re offering—”

  “Why are you laying me off?” he cut her off.

  The woman’s eyes slid over to Micah. He’d do the dirty work, apparently.

  The news director cleared his throat. “As you know, newsrooms across the country are making cuts. We’re really trying to make sure that our team is as agile—”

  “You said that. Why are you laying me off? Do you have an issue with my work? Is there a problem with my stories? Because my producer and I just landed you the scoop of the year. Are you going to be laying her off too?”

  Micah shook his head. “Mindy Choi’s job is safe, and it’s admirable that you’re concerned for her position. The simple answer to your questions, Nick, is that we’re cutting our reporting staff in half.”

  “But why me?” he pushed. “Why am I in the bad half of the reporting pool?”

  He knew he deserved to stay, and yet the idea of being in this newsroom where he’d sacrificed so much left him totally unsatisfied. He’d given up a great woman for a good story and that wasn’t an equal trade. Not by a long shot.

  The news director shifted in his seat. “We’re focusing down on in-studio production of Sports Desk.”

  “I anchor Sports Desk from time to time,” he said. “I’ve been doing it a lot more in the last few months.”

  “It all has to do with payroll and the budget,” Kim explained. “Your job is slated as a reporter. You bill as an anchor on an as-needed basis.”

  “Are you serious? That can’t be the only reason,” he said.

  Micah and Kim glanced at each other, both clearly uncomfortable. Finally, the news director cleared his throat. “And then there’s the matter of your dating history.”

  “My dating history?” It was the exact same thing Rachel had cited when they first talked about Kevin’s interview. She hadn’t trusted him fully because a couple of bored gossip photographers happened to get a few pictures of him out to dinner.

  “We ask our on-air staff to support our NYSN brand at all times,” Kim explained. “As it says in your contract, you’re one of our ambassadors. If you went on a rant on social media, we’d have to address that.”

  “But I didn’t,” he said. “I went out to dinner with a couple of women. And, by the way, I haven’t landed in the columns in months.”

  He picked up his pen and scanned the paper in front of him. “I want to know what happens if I don’t sign.”

  Micah shrugged. “We’d prefer it if you went of your own volition, but of course there are ways we can fight you. They won’t be pleasant.”

  Two months ago, he would’ve balked at the thought of ever rolling over without a fight. Reporting had made up most of his life—the best part. Other than that, he’d dated, watched a lot of sports, and caught up with his friends when he could. But mostly, he’d been directionless. He hadn’t had a purpose until Rachel came striding into his life on stilettos with her “you don’t scare me” attitude.

  He should’ve known when he saw her walking toward him in Artemis that she was dangerous not because of who she was or the power she could exert over his career. It was because she was the one woman he could see himself falling in love with.

  Of course, he’d pulled his head out of his ass only after she’d told him she never wanted to see him again.

  As always, his timing with her was fucking fantastic.

  He needed a fresh start. A new job, a new ou
tlook. He wouldn’t be able to replace Rachel in his life, but he could try to distract himself as much as possible.

  “Okay,” he murmured. Then he put pen to paper and signed.

  “Nick,” said Micah as he stood up, “it was a pleasure working with you. I wish you the best of luck.”

  He stared at the man’s outstretched hand. “Somehow, I’m having a hard time believing that, since you’re sending me packing.”

  “It isn’t personal. Efficiency—”

  “Measures, I know. Just a word of advice. If you go through any more layoffs, you’re going to want to keep Mindy, Erica, and Chris. They’re better on their worst days than I could ever hope to be.”

  Kim pursed her lips, but Micah was all smiles. “Your dedication to them is commendable.”

  Nick headed for the door, stopping only long enough to say, “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

  Out in the newsroom, Nick blew out a slow breath, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life. Before he’d hurt his elbow and ruined his hopes of going pro, his entire life had been baseball. After the injury, he’d thrown himself into journalism, fighting back his own doubts that a jock like him could hack it as a reporter. Now he had no job, no platform.

  He needed a strategy, but Rachel was the one who could see half a dozen steps ahead, weighing every consequence until she got a clear picture of what to do next.

  The fog cleared in an instant and the answer was obvious: get Rachel back. She was all that mattered, and he needed to show her that if he had to choose again, he’d choose her.

  He walked back to his desk—or what had been his desk until about two minutes ago. Mindy and Erica watched him in silence from where they leaned against the cubicle wall.

  Slowly he picked up his shoulder bag. Then he opened his drawers and started packing.

  “No.” Mindy’s voice was low and mournful. “They can’t do that.”

  “They did,” he said, not looking up. “They set me up with severance. With my savings, it’ll be enough to keep me going for a little while.”