10. Sophie
CHAPTER 10
SOPHIE
“ S oph, this is important.” Mia repositions herself on the big, overstuffed couch so she can face me. That’s one serious pout she’s wearing, too, which feeds the simmering irritation I’m holding against Luke. If he’d just finished his interview, this wouldn’t be an issue. I could have gone with Mia to the flower shop in the morning and then driven up to join the team later in the day. Instead, I have to spend the day on a bus with a bunch of hockey players.
“I know, Mia. And you know I wouldn’t miss it if I didn’t have to. But I called Amanda at Bloomed to Be Wilde and told her what we have in mind for the flowers. She’s putting together some ideas and sketches for you—that’s almost as good as me being there, right?” I grab her hand and squeeze reassuringly. “Besides, I’ve seen her work. She’s amazing! She’ll have ideas and suggestions I haven’t even considered.”
Chin down, Mia nods. “Okay. But what if I’m not sure which ones to pick?”
“Just send me pictures, and I’ll give you my vote.”
She flops back on her couch. “Maybe Ethan and I should just elope. ”
“Don’t you dare! That would break my heart. And I think Ethan’s mother would put a hit out on you.”
Mia’s laugh is almost maniacal. “Probably.” She turns her head on the cushion to look at me. “But you’ll still be able to help me with all the other stuff, right? Ethan may be proficient with a hockey stick, but he’s all thumbs with a glue stick.”
I giggle at the mental image of Ethan gluing the tiny bows for the wedding favors to his fingers, then grab my notebook and slip out the multi-page calendar I filled out with the team’s schedule to show her. All the games are in orange because that’s one of the colors in the Sun Kings logo. Pink, of course, indicates anything personal. And since the wedding colors are lilac—Mia’s favorite—and green, I used a sparkly lilac gel pen for everything wedding-related.
Mia leans in closer. “Whoa. It’s like a work of art.”
My turn to giggle. “Who says organizing can’t be fun and creative? So, does that make you feel better?”
“I suppose.” She draws her brows together in a deep frown and studies me.
I hate throwing a curve ball like this at her, but what choice do I have?
“Are you going to be okay on a bus with a bunch of noisy guys for eight hours? Two is usually your max when it comes to crowded, small spaces.”
I fold the papers and insert them back into my notebook for safekeeping. That was the other reason I wanted to drive up by myself. I enjoy parties and social gatherings, but after the first hour, it starts to drain me. “I’ll have my noise-canceling headphones with me if it gets to be too much. It’ll be fine.”
Hopefully, Luke Jameson won’t throw any more complications into my process. He said he likes to sleep on the ride. If that’s true of the other guys, I can take advantage of the quiet to work on the piece about the team captain since Luke’s interview will be the first featured as far as the players go.
I’ve already written and submitted the introductory article about the Sun Kings and what they’re projecting for the season and Coach Markelson’s interview. Derek’s will follow next, along with the rest of the trainers and managers intermingled with the players. And since we’re running one piece a week, not including game coverage, I’ll stay busy for a while.
So far, Marty loves the style of the photos I’ve taken and my plan for the structure of the series. With a few tweaks, of course. I may not have been thrilled about doing this assignment in the beginning, but now, my creative juices are going wild with all kinds of ideas. By the time I’m finished with this project, Marty will have plenty of proof that I’m more than capable of creating a captivating column about Sarabella.
Mia taps the cover of my journal. “You better not lose that. Maybe you should take pictures with your phone. Just in case.”
I nod. “Great idea. I’ll do that once I have it all filled out.”
She sighs and stares at the ceiling. “What’s it like?”
I stuff my notebook back into my bag. “What’s what like?”
“Being around all those hockey players.”
“Sweaty. Stinky. Noisy.”
She snorts. “Come on. There have to be some perks. Like, what about all those muscles?”
“Did you miss the sweaty, stinky part? I don’t go in the locker room, Mia.”
“Not even to peek?”
I shake my head. “There’s plenty to see on the ice.”
Images of Luke gliding over the ice and doing those turns without missing a beat fill my thoughts yet again, along with those broad shoulders and graceful maneuvers. He moves like a panther, and he does this thing where he runs one hand through his wavy hair, combing it back before he puts his helmet on. I know it’s to keep his hair from getting into his eyes, but I find the whole thing rather powerful…and very attractive.
Funny. I don’t recall noticing anything like that with the other players…
“Earth to Sophie.”
Mia’s sing-song voice snaps me back to the present. “Yes?”
“Where did you just go?” She points at me, then makes a circle with her finger. “What’s going on up in that head of yours? Because you kind of looked like Ethan did on our first two dates.”
No way. She has to be mistaken. “What, agitated?”
She blurts out a laugh. “No, more like a love-sick puppy.” Her laughter turns into a gasp as she grabs my hand. “You have a crush on one of them?”
“What? No. I do not. That’s ridiculous. I just want to finish this assignment so I can move on to doing what I really want.”
“But what if he’s the one?”
I snicker. “Then I’ll be one of those older women who carries a miniature chihuahua with her wherever she goes. And his name will be Sparky, and he’ll wear?—”
“A bright pink, gem-studded collar. Yes, yes, I remember.” She grabs both my hands and holds them between hers. “But I want my best friend to have what I have.”
“You and Ethan are not the norm.”
“I don’t know about that. But what I do know is there’s someone out there for you. You just haven’t found him yet.”
I lift our tangled hands and kiss the back of one of hers. “I love you, but I’ve made peace with my future spinster status. I’ll live vicariously through you. I’ll be an eccentric aunt to your kiddos. How’s that sound?”
She drops my hands and leans back against the cushions. “Sad and pathetic.”
I sigh. “I’m fine, Mia. I gave it a shot. It’s not for me. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
“I still think you’re crushing on a hockey player.” She shoots me a mischievous smile.
I grab my bag. “Okay, I’m leaving. I have to pack and get ready for tomorrow.”
She jumps up from the couch and points at me again. “See? You’re avoiding the question. ”
I push her finger down. “I don’t recall hearing a question, so how can I be avoiding it?”
Now I sound like Luke, reasoning my way out of being honest.
Can I not go an hour without thinking of that man?
“Looks good.” Actually, it looks fantastic, but I stand behind Marty, looking over his shoulder as he shows me the first spread of the series on his computer screen. Coach Markelson has to be among the youngest coaches in the ECHL, but despite his youth, he appears confident and wise.
He beams one of his proud uncle grins at me. “Your photos came out great, Soph. You could have a career in that alone. If you wanted to, that is.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Marty?”
He waves me off and tugs his glasses down his nose as I take a seat on the other side of his desk. “No, not at all. Just thinking down the road when you decide to write that first book.”
“Book? Who said I’m going to write a book?”
His lopsided smile warms my heart. He slips his glasses off, folds them thoughtfully, and places them on the calendar blotter on his desk. The man still prefers to keep a paper schedule in front of him at all times—a leftover from his early days as a news reporter.
“I seem to recall a young girl about to head off to college, talking about her dream of being a novelist.”
“Yeah, then the reality of what it took to be an author settled in, and I didn’t like the pay. Besides, I make a much better journalist.”
“They’re not exclusive, kiddo. I can picture you creating a photo book replete with philosophical ponderings to accompany your imagery. ”
Not a bad idea, actually. “I kind of like that idea.”
“Good. Something for you to chew on down the road.” He gestures to his screen. “This will run tomorrow. I’ll need your piece covering the game the night of.”
“No problem. I’ll email it to you from my hotel room. That should give me plenty of time.”
“Perfect. I’ll make sure they hold the space for it.” He steeples his fingers in front of him. “What about the piece about the captain? Luke…?”
“Jameson?”
He nods.
“I’m hoping to finish his interview on the bus ride up.”
“I thought you were driving up on your own.”
I groan. “That was the plan, but when I talked to Coach Markelson, hoping he could fill in the blanks for the rest of what I needed, he saw right through it. Sat us both down in his office and ordered us to get it done on the ride up.”
His concern radiates in his frown and his tone. “Ordered?”
“More like strongly suggested.”
“Ah, I see. Is Jameson still not warming up to the idea?”
I shake my head. “He has a serious mistrust of the press.”
Marty sighs. “I don’t blame him.” He taps on his keyboard and brings the printer to life. “After you told me you were having some challenges there, I did some research into the articles about his mother’s accident. One reporter dug up some dirt and did an exposé on his father.”
“I found nothing like that when I poked around.” I wiggle to the edge of my seat in anticipation of what Marty found.
He grins at me. “I have contacts.”
“Of course you do.” I snicker.
He reaches behind him and grabs the sheets printing out, then hands them to me. “A little homework for tonight. Maybe that will help you connect better with Luke.”
I study his face as I take the printout from him. He knows something. Marty has never been one to tell me details flat out. He’s like an old sage, giving me just enough direction to get started without telling me what I’m looking for.
“Thanks, Marty.”
“My pleasure, kiddo.”
I tuck the pages into my bag and stand. “I better get home so I can pack.”
As I’m about to leave his office, he calls me back. “Soph?”
I stop in the doorway and turn halfway around. “Yeah?”
“I know this makes the introvert in you squirm a bit. I’m just a phone call away, okay?”
His words are like a hug. “Thanks, Marty.”
That slanted smile of his sends me on my way. I know he has faith in me to do a good job on this. And I know I will, too, even if it is pushing me out of my comfort zone.
I stop by Charlene’s desk on my way out.
She leans back in her chair as I approach. “How’s life in the hockey world going?”
My trepidatious thoughts do a quick dance over being in a sardine can with a bunch of oversized fish and what I may discover in the article Marty handed me. As a journalist, I know how one rogue piece of information can change the picture of everything.
“It’s…going.” I bob my head affirmatively.
Her desk chair creaks in a foreboding manner as she leans on her desk. “That’s…telling.”
I giggle at her imitation of my answer. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
“I know, but you’ve got this, Soph. That spread you did on the coach was some of your best work yet.”
Relief rushes over me like a wave at the beach on a hot day. “Thank you. I need this assignment to go well.”
“I know that too.” She leans closer, lowering her voice. “I overheard Marty on the phone with one of the execs, bragging about your piece.”
“Really?” I glance toward his office. “He didn’t mention that.”
She shrugs. “He probably doesn’t want to get your hopes up, even though we all know you’re more than capable. It’s all about the numbers in the end.”
Deepening my voice, I don a dramatic tone. “The evil forces of greed, hell-bent on destruction and chaos.”
This is a reference to a comment she made in an edit on one of my articles a couple of years ago about the county pulling funding to preserve sea turtles. But it did have a happy ending. Apparently, an anonymous donor picked up the slack. I wanted to dig deeper, but the gentleman in question asked me to keep it hush-hush when I figured it out.
She snorts at me. “Very funny.”
“Just seemed appropriate.”
Char squeezes my hand. “If there ever was a real-life superwoman, it would be you, Soph. Now go wield your mighty pen.”