27
Taran pushed hard on the number thirty-eight button and stepped back. Her light-blue shirt dress wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but business dress wasn’t her go-to these days. The toe of her black heel tapped against the dark tile as the elevator moved up. She rarely came to the New York office. But today required a face-to-face conversation with Wayne.
He couldn’t see her until one, so she had paced around uselessly at home. She should have used the time to come up with something to say, but she was still debating the best course of action. Mostly, she needed more time to dig herself out of this hole. She didn’t have a grand plan. It was more of an iffy idea.
The elevator door finally opened on her floor. She stepped out nodding at the receptionist before she turned down the long gray hallway heading toward Wayne’s assistant. Although Taran’s heels didn’t tap on the carpet, Nancy glanced up from her computer, almost as if she heard Taran walking.
“Oh, hey. He told me to let you know he’s not ready.”
“What?” Taran had spent the last hour psyching herself up for this conversation and Wayne wasn’t available?
“Yeah, he said probably three thirty. Sorry, he got called into a meeting. But he figured since you were coming in anyway, you could just work here.” She pointed off to the conference room Taran used when she was in the building. “He’d love to know July’s feature by the end of the day.” Nancy shrugged because it was typical Wayne behavior. He’d probably known he couldn’t see her at one, even as he said it.
“I guess it’s pointless to say he does this stuff to me on purpose,” Taran mumbled.
Nancy’s eyes softened. She’d worked for Wayne for probably twenty-five years, and the older woman wasn’t blind to how he treated Taran. “I do think he’s harder on you than some of the guys. But today, he wanted to chat with you about how you got the elusive baseball legend to agree, so it was a last-minute meeting.”
Taran sighed and adjusted the strap of her computer case on her shoulder. “Okay, have him come get me.”
After heading into the room, she closed the door behind her. She should have been focusing on work, but she glanced at her phone on the table. Corey’d texted his address with a message.
Corey:Dont no if you have this
Corey:I wanted to make sure you did
Corey:phones in the locker during game
Corey:but trust me my mind is with you
No punctuation, and it wasn’t the easiest string of texts to read, but he cared enough to send them. She’d read it over and over, smiling each time. Corey was turning out to be so much more than the incredibly hot man with a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball.
But she had to figure out her next article, not pine over a text. The agent for her soccer guy wasn’t getting back to her. She’d have to push back another month. No one else was standing out to her. Last month, she’d written about a baseball player, and in July, the other big four sports were offseason. She flicked through headlines and photos looking for somebody she might want to write about, but none of the athletes jumped out at her. This year, there were no Olympics, and golf had become quiet again recently. She should choose a woman because her articles had been male-heavy lately. After two hours, she finally stumbled on exactly what she was looking for.
The US tennis player currently ranked number two in the world had a baby three months ago and was training hard to get back into top form. It might not be what the typical Sports Illustrated readers were interested in, but it might pull in a wider audience.
She walked over to the door, calling out to Nancy. “Hey. Do you know who Jessica Walters’ agent is?”
“I’ll email you the contact info,” Nancy said without looking away from her computer screen.
Three conversations later: one with Sean, one with the agent, and one with Jessica, Taran had her article set. At this point, it was almost four thirty, and she hadn’t been summoned by Wayne. She packed up her stuff and headed back to his office.
“Is he in there?” Taran asked.
“He’s waiting on you.” Nancy nodded.
“Jessica’s an interesting choice.” Wayne sat behind his large desk. Behind him was what Taran liked to call the wall of brags. The entire wall consisted of him photographed with random famous athletes, showing off the fact that he’d met everyone who was anyone in sports for the last three decades.
Taran didn’t want to fight with him over next month’s article; she had a more significant battle to fight. She wiped her palms off on her dress and swallowed. “Want me to pick someone else?”
He shook his head, leaning back in the leather office chair. “No, just do a couple of moms in sports blogs leading up to it. That will help pique interest. Why do we need to talk about Matthews?” He narrowed his eyes as he clenched his jaw. Before she even spoke, he was unhappy with her. “By your tone this morning, I feel like you’re going to pull out of this. So I’m hoping you’re not about to give me some lame reason that you can’t do the article.”
“You said this morning you wanted to reach out to him right away,” Taran explained.
“Why wouldn’t we? If he’s doing this, we need to make it the cover.” Wayne shifted in his chair, leaning forward to rest his arms on the desk.
“Did you know he fired Hot Shots?” she asked. At this point, this was the only thing she could come up with, and she wanted a chance to talk to Sean about it. Although she talked to him about Jessica’s contract, she didn’t want to talk about Corey at work. But she wasn’t even 100 percent sure this could get Corey out of the contract.
“Shit,” Wayne snapped. “I’m assuming Sean told you that, and it’s not a rumor?”