Chapter Thirty-Two
Bee
I started my day off heading to the arena, straight into the flurry of front office who was getting ready for training camp, selling tickets, working on game night planning, and, most importantly, social media content that would hopefully sell that Nola and I didn’t hate each other.
We needed to sell that we had created a loving, healthy environment for the Waves team to dominate this season.
And, like yeah, sure, that was partially true.
The healthy environment was the part where Nola and I pretended my nipple piercings hadn’t been in her mouth, and that she hadn’t made me say please on the journey to one of my top three orgasms of all time.
The loving environment was our newly-rekindled friendship, because otherwise we were talking about unrequited love, and I was moving through life as if that didn’t annoy me at all.
I should be ecstatic that we were building a friendship again—that every time I was honest and reminded Nola how much she hurt me, genuine remorse was written all over her face.
Instead, I was getting off to the thought of us every night.
I was making my morning juices and leaving a totally kidding, very sarcastic note about us being lovers.
They were vague enough that they worked as a joke.
But we both knew.
I made sure to stop by every desk on my way to Nina’s office, greeting staff, accountants, and analysts because we were all a team.
This was, of course, easier to do with the Jaguars because staffing was so small and doubled up on tasks.
But dammit, I couldn’t just stop something I’d already started.
Nina’s office was tucked into the back corner, just on the verge of having a nice view of the highway with great lighting.
“Knock, knock,” I announced myself to the marketing director. Her hair was in a bun haphazardly placed on her head, and her tortoise shell glasses slipping down her nose.
“Oh my gosh, hi Brittney!” Nina stood to welcome me in. Though her eyes looked tired, her energy was giving me a run for my money.
“Why do you look like you’re on your sixth cup of coffee?” I leaned on the door frame and checked my watch, courtesy of a designer brand trying to talk me into a partnership. “It’s only eleven in the morning.”
“I’m on my third shot of espresso. Mondays are Marcello’s off days, and honestly, I’m really cooking on this social series of you and Nola,” she rambled.
Is this how I sound to everyone?
“That’s what we’re doing today, right? Can I get a sneak peek?
” I smiled warm and wide, batting my lashes.
I had enough skin in the game to be hyper aware of every single piece of something that could affect my image, whether I cared or not.
My public recognition either ranged from people who had absolutely no idea who I was, had followed my trajectory in college, or knew me as the league’s crash out queen.
If I was going to be criticized by the people who cared about women’s basketball, I hoped they could critique the fully actualized version of me.
It was the only version of me I was willing to give anyway.
The way I chose to be myself in the public eye came with plenty of cons, but at least I’d always be proud of who I was. I could care less if people found me annoying or dramatic. What they couldn’t say was that I didn’t know my shit or that I was afraid to defend my team.
Nina chewed on her bottom lip while she thought, her eyes flicking to the massive monitor on her desk. “Okay, fine. But only because it’ll be good context for you and what we’re shooting today.”
“Bet, let’s do it.”
Nina sat back down in her chair and motioned for me to take the seat on the other side of her desk.
While she swiveled the monitor toward me, I noticed the various posters and frames that decorated the walls.
Volleyball team photos from college, beach pictures with her friends and family, anniversary posters of the first league game after its inception.
Nina reeked of women’s sports in the best way possible.
“Okay, so essentially we’re spoofing The Office.”
“Oh my god, I love mockumentary!” I shouted, already on board and I didn’t even know my task. She could ask me to do standup in front of the whole front office and I’d give it a shot.
“Same! It’s so dry and subtly effective.”
“Nina, are you a movie snob?” I asked with a devilish grin. I had no expectations of making my next friend another marketing director, but at this point why not.
“Brittney, I have a movie membership. That is my only life outside of this place.” The bun on her head wobbled with her duh expression.
“Let’s talk after this.” I nodded to get us back on track.
“Right. So we have this footage of finding out about each other, touring the apartment and the first day visiting…”
“Oh, so the most awkward moment of my life, the most shocking moment of my life, and the most humbling moment of my life.” I listed with a smile.
“No, no. I promise there is no protagonist or antagonist. I realized there’s a lot of discourse surrounding the two of you, and I would rather die than paint either of you in a negative light.” Nina’s face was serious. She meant business. Even if her business was my business.
She continued, “This is purely for fans to get to know the both of you. Make light of what kind of started as super heavy and contentious. Which is what the confessionals are going to do.”
I nodded slowly, seeing my version of those two days so clearly in my head. How the hell did we not look like we wanted to kill each other?
“And this footage is usable? Not like, you know, awkward and stilted?”
Nina almost barked out a laugh before she realized I was serious. “Oh, God no. You guys are good together. I even had Marcello up in the bleachers recording your one on one.”
“And at no point it looks like I want to trip Nola when she’s not looking?”
Nina shook her head. “Not really, no.”
“And it doesn’t look like Nola wants to duct tape my mouth shut?”
“Is it really that bad between you two?”
“No, not anymore. But in the beginning, I’d say those weren’t thoughts that didn’t cross our minds.”
Nina leaned back in her chair with a smirk, her fingers drumming on the desk. I didn’t know what she was thinking, and surprisingly, I didn’t think I wanted to.
“Nina, I trust you, maybe, not like one-hundred percent, but nearly for sure. Jaguars fans are ripping into me, and it’s surprisingly affecting me more than I thought.”
“I hear you.”
“So…please just be gentle with me.”
“Girl.” Nina reached her hand across the desk. “I got you.”
Nina was right. The content was so good; I knew exactly what I wanted to say in my confessionals to fill out the rest of the story. Talking to the camera came almost as natural as breathing butI knew Nola was going to be uncomfortable.
“When you get Nola for her segments, play up that little-to-no talking thing she does. It’ll contrast well to my chatterbox moments.
” I offered my advice because I simply couldn’t help it.
Even if I didn’t get the bug to be a performing artist, I critiqued media like it was my full time job.
Some of my best opinions have come out of dinner talk with my family on what was new or flopping across the arts.
“I love that idea.” Nina beamed as she cleaned up her tripod and camera. She took the SD card out and plugged it into her computer. “Thank you for being a team player, Brittney. You don’t know how much time you saved me on begging.”
“This stuff is fun to me.” I shrugged.
“And it’s natural. You two need to keep it up.”
“Come again?”
“Your stories of you and Nola matching? You two watching tv together? That stuff helps us too.”
“Oh, I wasn’t doing it for public attention…” I didn’t finish my sentence, suddenly hyperaware of any personal moments at home I shared with Nola included. In the time since our strictly friends, no slip up arrangement, we somehow managed to do something together everyday .
I'd shared my life haphazardly, with no agenda behind the photos I snapped. We made dinner together, and it was too salty. We ordered lumpia and sisig the other day and I had to shout out the restaurant. Nola overloaded the dishwasher and suds started pouring out. These were all moments I’d shared for fun.
I had no idea it could be construed as anything more than what it was.
“Well anyway, you two are great and Nola should be coming in later. Do you want to see the final cut before our socials post?”
I shook my head, trying to come out of my overthinking spiral. “No, I’m good! I trust you, Nina!”
I forced a smile onto my face and headed out. I didn’t want to catastrophize, but it was so easy for me. My thoughts rushed a mile a minute ranging from best case scenario to worst.
I hoped I could save whatever this was before I did irreparable damage.