Taran turned. Being four-eleven, she dealt with this a lot. Especially when she dressed to blend in. Not being noticed was the key to getting a story.
“Not a kid, not lost, don’t need to find mom or dad.” She pulled her lanyard out from under her shirt and flashed her press pass.
“She’s good,” Grey announced from farther down the tunnel. He was normally the security doorman, and Taran knew him well. The middle-aged man smirked as she got closer. “Might have even confused me today, Taran. Really working the young kid look.”
She shrugged. It was easier if everyone ignored her. And everyone usually ignored a kid. Her image required her to blend in.
“Got something juicy?” he asked, waiting for a funny story she’d usually spill without effort, but she shook her head.
“Not today. It’s like fun had an allergy to the game tonight.”
“Itwasquiet. We didn’t even kick anyone out. But the Rockies suck this year, so it’s not shocking. I expected a blowout.”
Taran nodded, but her phone buzzed in her pocket before she could add more. The second buzz told her it was a call, not a text, meaning it was her family or her boss. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, she was in for a lecture.
“Have a good night,” Taran said to Grey before heading farther down the tunnel. She pulled her phone out, frowning at the name before accepting the call. “Hey.”
“How was it? Get anything?” her boss said without even a hello.
Taran sighed. “Wayne, my blog is not your problem.”
“Your blog helps drive our hard copy sales. It’s linked on our website, and if you keep up the stories, people keep reading your full-length articles. And for the last few weeks, its sucked.”
Taran scratched at the coffee stain on her T-shirt above the words:It’s okay if you don’t like baseball. It’s kind of a smart person sport. It was impossible to say he was being unfair because her blog had been dragging for a while. It was April, and her clicks had been down since mid-March. She knew why. Like she expected, March had been a rough month, and finding gossip wasn’t high on her list of priorities. If she wanted to take the easy way out, she could have explained why she was dragging. But she was tired of the sympathy.
“I’ll find something,” she assured him.
“Or create it.” His statement was flippant.
Taran sucked in hard. “We work forSports Illustrated, not theNational Inquirer.”
“It’s a blog, for God's sake. Get the clicks, then retract it tomorrow. No one cares.”
Her fingers tightened on the phone, pressing the metal into her palm. There were hard lines she didn’t cross.
“That’s not who I am.” Even if she was currently a gossip reporter, she wasn’t willing to outright lie in any story. Man, she was amazed that they even needed to have this conversation. Five years ago, she never would have believed she’d work for this type of man. But over these last few years, everything about her life had taken a hard left turn.
“Yeah, you and yourprinciples. Anyway, how about next month's article?”
“I have until Monday to find someone.”
She wrote full-length feature articles for the monthly magazine. Her stories were more color than fact and focused hard on the players' lives outside of sports.
“Have you contacted any of my big five?”
Wayne had a list of athletes he wanted her to feature before the end of the calendar year. Although he deemed it a reasonable list, she knew better. The first was the hottest rookie baseball player of the year, and everyone was after him. The second one was a soccer star living in Guatemala. She’d reached out to his agent twice already but hadn’t even gotten a call back. The next two were on a media hiatus, and the last one—the elusive white whale—had never in his entire career done a color interview. He was good at answering questions about his game, even when he was playing poorly, but if anyone dared to ask about his personal life, the interview ended.
“You’re in the same building as Corey Matthews. Make an attempt.”
The white whale himself. It wasn’t shocking that Wayne demanded she go after him first. But unless the stars aligned and luck suddenly had her back, she wasn’t going to get Corey Matthews to agree to anything. Hehatedgossip reporters.
“Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.” She glanced down at her clothes. She’d stand out like a sore thumb if she went into the locker room looking like a kid. There was a change of clothes in her car, so she’d have to head out to the parking garage and hope Matthews didn’t leave before she got back. But everyone knew the pitcher bounced out as quickly as possible after a game.
“Yeah, what?” he asked. “Do I need to take care of locking down articles for you? Try to keep up with the big boys, princess.”
Wayne had never wanted to hire her. He was old, crotchety, and a full-blown sexist. He thought the only place women belonged in sports reporting was in front of the camera where they could look cute. She fantasized about stabbing him with a fork, but that was about as likely as her getting an interview with the elusive Matthews. Still, she needed this job. Any chance of her dream job had ended in disaster two years ago.