by J. A. Pierre
“Well, we would’ve had more time, but someone was late.” She clucked her tongue.
Nolan felt heated. He sensed that she felt empowered, knowing he was attracted to her. “So when can we meet again?”
“I’d like to meet tomorrow. My office will arrange the meeting.” She pushed in her chair and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you.”
Nolan stretched out his hand. They shook and Savani’s hands felt soft. Nolan ran his thumb over one of her fingers. “Well, I guess we’ve officially moved pass the introductions.” He squeezed her hand and saw that her eyes intensified. Hmmm. A responsive woman. “Until next time,” he said, before letting go of her hand.
She sighed.
Nolan saw that she was trying to figure him out. He waited for her to respond. Instead she nodded and left.
Chapter Three
Nolan was a man who accepted his likes and dislikes. He liked ketchup and put it on almost anything. He liked basketball and had a court in the backyard of his four-bedroom suburban home. He liked peaches and ate them almost every week.
And he liked Savani from the moment he saw her.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Northwest D.C. office building where Express D.C. magazine was housed, he parked, and made his way to the entrance. The security officer, who Nolan was sure was supposed to take his name, instead asked to shake his hand.
“Me and my boy enjoyed watching you during the playoffs, sir,” the guard said, smiling from ear to ear.
Nolan slapped him on the arm. “Thanks, pops.”
Nolan asked where to find the magazine’s office and the guard told him what floor. Nolan was comfortable being around people of all racial backgrounds. He was a Midwest boy with a southern mama. He’d enjoyed the game of basketball since he was in elementary school. But taking up the sport and turning pro also meant that he was a minority.
He’d gotten along with the players on his team throughout his career, throughout various franchise moves from New York to Chicago then to Washington D.C.
In a way, Nolan was happy he’d grown up poor. He understood struggle, as well as what it felt like to be raised by a single mother. Commonalities he shared with many other NBA players. His peers could relate to him. Nolan felt—at least with his teammates—that he was judged for his character first.
***
The elevator slowly made its way to the twelfth floor. He hadn’t wanted to show up for the first meeting with Savani. A sex scandal had been developing with another local NBA player.
The league was basically promoting players that they felt had a wholesome image to combat the negative press. Nolan understood that one scandal didn’t define the league. He wasn’t a PR person, but he knew regardless of the positive press put out there, the scandal would be talked about, and then people would move on.
He had retained a relatively clean image. No drug use, he was not a party-boy, and the two prior relationships he’d had were tame compared to the fellas in his profession. The one or two indiscretions he’d had after his last breakup, he’d been careful to keep under the radar.
The woman was taken—not married—but still Nolan felt guilty about it after their one-night stand. She’d called him a couple of times after, claiming she was willing to leave her baller boyfriend. But for Nolan, she wasn’t worth the mayhem that would come with it. It had been a mistake he regretted.
The elevator stopped on the ninth floor. A gentleman in a suit walked in and nodded his head. Nolan acknowledged him and they both looked at the closing elevator door. Finally, it opened on the twelfth floor. Ding.
Nolan stepped into the spacious lobby. The magazine occupied the entire floor. It was bright with big windows. The weather was nice outside. Nolan loved the spring. Sunlight cascaded in through windows where the blinds were pulled up.
Nolan looked around. The office was full of people. From the elevator, he saw the heads of people busily working away. The cubicles were low enough for staff members to talk directly to each other.
He looked for Savani.
He was greeted by a young woman who wore cat-eye glasses. She was cute but underweight.
“Mr. Reynolds.” She smiled. Her cheekbones prominent.
“Yes.”
“I’m happy you could make it.” She introduced herself as Savani’s assistant then led him to Savani’s office.
Savani was standing when Nolan walked in. She wore a malt-colored suit that made her complexion look gorgeous. Nolan liked how she wore her hair pinned up in a bob. He could be wild. Very wild. Still, he appreciated the ‘secretary look.’
He was sure if he got more time with Savani, he’d eventually show her who was the boss. Nolan smiled to himself. He’d gotten the impression from their first meeting that Savani liked to be in charge.
He’d met women like Savani before. And he knew once he took the leadership role, it threw them off.
“Mr. Reynolds, good afternoon.” She smiled at him and walked around her desk. They shook hands.
Nolan held onto Savani’s hand while glancing around. “Nice office,” he said. She smiled then glimpsed down at her hands.
Nolan wanted to pull her in. She looked delicious. He smiled at her and could have sworn her own eyes twinkled as they looked up at him. She was a sharp woman. She probably sensed he wanted to sleep with her. He released her hand.
Then again, he was in the NBA. Many people assumed ballers were all playas, easily adding panties to their bedposts.
“Please have a seat.” She smiled and walked back to her desk, then took a seat. “Would you like some coffee, tea, water?”
“Water will be good.”
Savani pressed a button. She told her assistant to bring two bottles of Evian.
“I see you’re fancy with the water. Evian.”
Savani leaned in, resting her elbows on her desk. “Well, believe it or not, some of the people who walk in here are picky about their beverages. Until we just decided to store Evian. Not many people would refuse water from the French Alps.” She smiled but Nolan heard the sarcasm in her voice.
He chuckled. “Not me. Water is water.”
Savani shrugged nonchalantly.
Nolan fidgeted. He eyed her carefully before turning his attention to the office. He wanted to see if there were any personal items in the room. While he tried to hone in on an object, the assistant came in with two bottles of water on a silver tray.
“Thank you,” Savani said.
When she left, Nolan asked, “Your assistant seems pleasant?”
Savani smiled and nodded.
***
She turned on the digital recorder after they’d both drank from their bottles. She wanted to sink right into the questions and find out who this Nolan Reynolds really was.
He wasn’t too forthcoming with his answers.
Savani felt that he answered in a way that would give her just enough. And where he could, Nolan answered with a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’
“I’d like you to open up a bit more,” she said. “Our readers expect to get insight into the person being interviewed. They want to know who you really are.” She smiled, trying to make Nolan more comfortable.
He tensed up the farther along Savani went. She was about to change her approach when there was a knock at the door.
No sooner had she said, “Come in,” then Matthew sauntered in. He had his hands in his pockets, as usual. He was balding in the front, though he was only forty-two, and walked in a confident manner. He wasn’t that tall, but his sharp features and commanding manner made people pay attention.
“Hi, Mr.Reynolds,” Matthew said.
The men shook hands.
“How did the interview go?” Matthew asked Nolan.
Savani checked the small clock on her table. She couldn’t believe an hour had passed. She only had a few more minutes with Nolan but needed more. She needed something juicy to open the article she’d have to write. Readers wanted an angle. She knew th
ere was one, but Nolan was holding back.
“It went fine. Though I’m not sure if Savani’s done.” Nolan smiled at her. Matthew looked over at Savani then back at Nolan.
“We’re halfway there.” It was code for ‘the interviewee’s reluctant to talk’.
Savani tried to appear calm, but she was getting nervous. She would have to do a follow-up call with Nolan. She hoped he picked up his phone. The magazine always preferred if the journalist met the interviewees in person. Not only because face-to-face allowed the building up of rapport, but some nuances of conversation couldn’t be replicated over the phone.
Matthew gave a sharp nod. “I see.”
“Actually.” Nolan checked his watch. “It’s my sister’s birthday today and I’m helping with the setup.”
It was almost 4 p.m.
“What time is the party?” Matthew asked.
“Seven.”
“Uhmm.” Matthew sighed. “We can arrange dinner. Would that suit you? Savani will definitely wrap up the interview by then. We really appreciate your time.”
Nolan smiled. “It’s no problem.”
Savani scrunched up her eyebrows. She needed more from Nolan, but dinner?
Matthew took over. “Well, then, I’ll have my secretary give you a call.”
Nolan got up. “Okay.”
Everyone said their goodbyes, then Nolan was out the door.
“He’s not a talker?” Matthew asked.
Savani shook her head.
“Well, he’s interested in you.” Matthew watched her carefully. “See how much he warms up to you off the record and get what you can on the record. Make sure it’s interesting. You have one week to write the story before we move to layout.”
Matthew left and Savani sighed. It would just be dinner.
She slid her right foot out of the Jimmy Choo heels she wore and flexed her foot. Savani felt tense. She couldn’t allow the baller to get to her. She’d checked him out more carefully while he sat across from her. It was evident that the man was good-looking. Savani didn’t want to drool over him nor make it obvious she was attracted to him.
But he wasn’t an open book. This drew Savani in.
She gripped a Ballpark pen with sweaty palms, scribbling a note to herself. She tried not to acknowledge that she looked forward to seeing Nolan at dinner.
Chapter Four
They met at a quaint Italian restaurant. Matthew remembered the publicist had said Nolan loved lasagna. Matthew, who was born in Italy, immediately thought of a restaurant which had lasagna that tasted like his grandmother’s recipe.
Savani wore a red skirt that came just above her knees and a chiffon black blouse. She’d debated over twenty minutes about what to wear, deciding dressing too sexy would send the wrong message. After all, the dinner was still a work function. She’d noticed that Nolan was quick to jump on board with Matthew’s suggestion. But was he really interested in her? Or was he trying to gauge how far he could get with her?
Savani had read articles where the writer gushed over the person being interviewed like he or she was a pop star. She was always suspicious when she read those articles. Especially if the writer was fairly attractive.
When she entered the restaurant Nolan was seated. He stood to greet her.
He was dressed in black pants and a dark blue button-down shirt. Savani could tell his clothing was designer by the way it fit perfectly over his lengthy body.
After some brief small talk, Savani rested her recorder on the table.
Nolan seemed slightly more relaxed than he’d been inside the magazine office. He talked to Savani as though she were a friend.
A first, she didn’t press him with any personal questions. She’d get to those later on after he’d warmed up a bit. Maybe after he’d taken a few sips of wine or after they’d eaten dinner.
She tried to pace herself, but she also didn’t want to let the interview lag for fear Nolan would freeze up.
***
When the waitress brought over two plates of lasagna, Savani turned off the recorder. Nolan had spoken about his college background, basketball success, and a few of his endeavors off the court. It would make up the bulk of the article.
She’d hone in on why he thought he stood out from other basketball players off the court, his personal life, and his future plans after they finished eating. This information would color the article, giving the magazine’s readers insight into Nolan Reynolds.
Savani sighed, clicking off the recorder. Her stomach grumbled. It always made noise when she needed to eat.
“Well, I guess someone’s hungry.”
Savani nodded. Usually she tried to avoid cheese. It was one food that easily stuck to her hips. But tonight she wanted Nolan to feel like he could relate to her. That she wasn’t just a journalist interviewing him. If he liked lasagne, tonight, so did she. After all, people preferred those similar to themselves, even if it was only on the surface.
They dug in.
“Hmm.” Savani opened her eyes wide and chewed. It was lasagna like she’d never had before. “This is delicious.”
Nolan smiled and took a bite of his salad. “I know. The chef here’s outstanding.”
Savani looked over the lasagna. She saw the tomato sauce, ricotta cheese, beef, and fresh parsley sprinkled on top. It looked like any other lasagna, yet it was amazingly good. “I’m so glad I’m getting to experience this. Who doesn’t love good food?”
Nolan looked pleased.
Savani leaned in. “You know, there’s not much about you online.”
Nolan chuckled. “No, I don’t do a lot of interviews.”
“So why this one?”
“My team thought it’d be a good move.”
Savani quickly surveyed him before looking down at her plate.
“What do you think gave you your drive to succeed?”
Nolan didn’t answer. Finally, he sighed. “This part of the night isn’t making it into the article right?”
“Not if you don’t want it to.”
“I don’t. When the recorder’s on, that part’s for the article. Right now, I’d prefer if we just got to know each another.”
Normally, red flags would go up in Savani’s head. She always drew a line between herself and anyone she interviewed, no matter how friendly she wanted to come across. But she wasn’t sure about Nolan.
So she nodded.
“I’m not sure if you read an article where I talked about how I grew up? My mom was on welfare.”
Savani nodded. She remembered the story.
“Well, it just unleashed this curiosity about me. A reporter even showed up on my mother’s doorstep. How they got her address, I don’t know. But it made me uncomfortable. It’s like you open yourself up just an inch and people want to tug at you.”
“I get what you mean. It’s the nature of the industry.”
Nolan shrugged. “But, to answer your question. My drive to succeed comes from wanting to make my family proud. And to help my mother. My father passed away when I was eleven.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Savani sat back. Nolan was opening up to her.
“Yep. We were a paycheck to paycheck family from then on. After he was gone, things just went downhill for a while. I took it hard, being the only boy. I’d looked up to my dad.”
Savani shifted in her seat. “How did he die?”
Nolan avoided eye contact.
She squirmed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
He sighed.
“About the basketball,” Savani said quickly.
“Right.” Nolan paused. “I’d always been a tall kid and had an interest in basketball. I went to sports camps every summer. Things just progressed from there, slowly at first, until I got a scholarship for Notre Dame.”
Savani smiled. She could tell Nolan was passionate about his experiences. That he knew they’d shaped his life.
“Then the draft pick for the NBA came along and the rest, as they say, is history
. The commercials, the endorsements,” he opened his palm toward Savani, “the magazine interviews.”
As he spoke, Savani envisioned what Nolan’s life must’ve been like. It was her empathy—to put herself in the place of whoever was being interviewed—that her boss had praised. He’d said it was like Savani really was able to capture their inner life; that readers felt they understood the people they read about.
“Sometimes we need something outside ourselves to motivate us,” Savani said and scraped her plate, and then abruptly dropped her fork. She often scraped her plate at home, but never in public.
Nolan chuckled. “I see you don’t like to waste food.”
She felt her cheeks reddened. She was comfortable with him, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“It’s okay. I don’t like to waste things either.” Nolan’s face got serious. “Including my time.”
Savani glanced down at the white cloth napkin in her lap.
“I like you.” Nolan sounded earnest. “I just wanted to put it out there.” He leaned his chest into the table. “I think the interview’s basically over.”
Savani nodded. “I just had three more questions.” Their eyes met. “More personal questions like−what’s your favorite color?” She winked.
Nolan laughed. “Sure.”
“That kind of thing.” Savani admired his dimple, which was more pronounced when he laughed.
“Okay. I’m game.” He sat back. “Only, if you’ll agree to see me after tonight.”
Savani smiled. “Sure.” She took a sip of wine, her eyes still on Nolan.
Chapter Five
Savani leaned against her desk, her bottom propped on the edge, staring out the window as she tapped her heels against the floor.
There wasn’t much of a view outside the window. Just another tall office building across the street and a huge parking lot in between filled with cars.
Matthew had asked her to get a childhood photo of Nolan for the article.
“Call the publicist,” he’d said before the elevator door closed. He had a meeting to attend. Savani had turned in the article that morning. Matthew read it and loved it.