Chapter Six
Adrian
I blinked, the initial urge to accept tempered by the knowledge that Rip was once again treating me like the little kid he still believed me to be.
“Thanks, but I think you have enough on your plate without me adding to it. I can handle this.”
“How? You just said it’s hard to do on your own. I’m offering you a chance to have someone else shoulder some of the burden.”
It would be so easy to say yes. I’d get to spend time with Rip, which would be an extra bonus. But that stupid thing called pride kept me from jumping at the chance. “No offense, but what do you know about reporting?”
A grin kicked up his mouth. “I’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of microphones. I’ve learned the good and the bad. I have some tips.” He nudged me. “I’m not kidding. I’d really like to help you.”
“Let’s say I agree.” I held up a hand at his nod. “Not actually, but for argument’s sake, what could you do to make me more confident?”
“First of all, this interview with Seb and me will help. And the more face time you get, the easier it’ll be for you to act naturally around the camera.
See, the first thing you have to learn when you’re broadcasting is to forget that it’s a job and make it your personality.
Pretend you’re hanging with your buddies. ”
The intercom buzzed, and Rip left to answer it while I ruminated.
Pretend you’re hanging with your buddies…
That would presume I had any. I’d finished school without making any real connections.
I’d thought going away to college would give me a fresh start, but instead I’d found myself even more isolated.
Freshman year I stayed in my dorm room most weekends, and by the time I’d gotten up the nerve to join the Gay Students’ Union in my sophomore year, most of the guys my age had already formed tight friendship circles, leaving me little room to wiggle inside.
Never one to push, I’d retreated, spending my free time in the library or studying newsreels, when I should’ve learned the subtle art of chatting it up.
The bell rang, and Rip opened the door. The delivery person handed him the bag.
“Thanks,” Rip said with an easy smile.
“Whoa, no way, you’re Ripley Tremaine,” the guy gushed. “Big Blades fan here. I watch the games all the time.” A faded Blades cap rested on his curly hair, so he wasn’t lying.
“Great to hear.”
“Could I, uh, get like an autograph or a picture? My friends will freak out.”
“Sure, how about both?” Rip motioned to me. “Adrian, c’mere.”
I joined them, and after the kid took a few solo pictures, he handed me his phone. I took a burst of pictures, and afterward Rip signed the receipt.
“This is way cool.”
Rip handed him a bunch of twenties. “Have a great night.”
The young man’s eyes bugged out. “Awesome, dude. Thanks.”
Rip set the bag on the kitchen island and unpacked the boxes. The delicious smell of fried chicken hit my nose, and my mouth watered, while my stomach let out an embarrassing growl. Rip chuckled.
“Same, buddy. I’m starving.”
We tore into the chicken, and within twenty minutes, nothing but bones and empty containers remained. I groaned.
“Oh, man, that was so good.” I licked my lips and stretched. “But it’s getting late, so I’d better get going. You need your rest, and I—”
“Need to think about our earlier conversation.”
I crumpled the napkin in my hand and began to collect the garbage. “There’s nothing to think about. I’ll figure it out.”
“Hey.” Rip took the crumpled bags from me.
“I never said you couldn’t. But it’s always a good thing to get help from friends.
I gotta fly to Atlanta for the Arctics game, but come to the next home game.
It’s with the Lakes.” His face remained blank.
“They’re the Minneapolis team. You can pick up some good quotes from the guys, plus you can watch us.
That’ll start giving you some ideas about the game.
And you should go to a few basketball games too.
I have season tickets—use one or ask Neil or a friend to go with you. ”
“I don’t think—”
“Yeah, but I do. Look. You have to learn to be more comfortable with professional sports teams. And wait.” He rubbed his chin. “I have an even better idea. Instead of sitting in the arena, sit in the box with the rest of the team. No other reporter does that. It’ll be a first.”
A tiny thrill of excitement shot through me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Then…” I could see his mind working. “What about suggesting a sports show? Like mini talk-show segments.”
“What? Me? Host a whole show? By myself?”
He squeezed my arm. “Where’s that confidence I’ve been talking to you about?
Don’t worry. I’ll be your first guest. And not only do I know other players in the league who’ll be happy to come on, I’m friends with other athletes—baseball players, football…
there’s a whole network of people you can talk to.
I’m part of GAINS—Gay Athletes In Sports.
I’m sure plenty of players, retired and active, will be happy to come on and talk to you. ”
With visions of everything that could go wrong zipping through my mind, I chewed my lip. “You think I can pull it off?”
“I know you can. Tomorrow, go to Rob DeVine’s office and sell the idea.”
I rose to my feet. “I’d better get home. But yeah…I’ll think about it. I should tell Louie too.”
“Don’t think about it. Do it. Let me know how it goes. And make sure you show up at the next home game. Win or lose, you’ll get good sound bites.”
“Thanks, Rip. You’re being really nice. I-I don’t know what to say.”
He slung his arm around me, a comforting weight I ached to lean into.
“See you at the arena. Don’t forget.”
**
The next morning, I figured it would be best to talk to Louie prior to approaching Rob, so I got into the office extra early to call him, not only for his opinion on the idea for the show, but to find out how he was feeling after his surgery.
“Kid, how’s it goin’?”
The cheerful voice gave me a moment’s pause.
Was I infringing on Louie’s territory? He knew sports wasn’t where my heart lay, but Rip’s idea was a good one to help me learn to be more comfortable in front of the camera.
A casual, talk-show type atmosphere might help ease my way into a more formal, behind-the-desk seat.
“It’s good. How’re you feeling? Are you coming home, or can I come visit you?”
“Nah. Don’t waste your time. I’ll be going home today or tomorrow.”
“That’s great. So you’ll be back at work before you know it.” My relief was genuine. I truly had no desire to take Louie’s job.
“Well, no, see it was a little more complicated than that. As I told you, the ankle was broken in two places, plus they did some more tests and found my knee was damaged. I had to have screws put in, and they repaired some tendons. They got me doin’ all kinds of damn physical therapy, so I’ll probably be out longer than I first thought. ”
My heart sank. “Damn. I’m sorry, Louie.” I was genuinely upset because Louie was no youngster and it would be a long recovery. Hearing this news made me want to stay silent. The last thing Louie needed during a difficult recuperation was to think I was angling for his job.
“Listen, kiddo. I know sports is the last thing you want.”
“Yeah, but I thought it went okay. Plus, I went to the game and—”
“Adrian. I talked to Rob, and I’m sorry, but we don’t think you’re ready to be the full-time sports reporter in my absence.”
Even Louie didn’t think I had what it takes to be an on-camera reporter. It might be true, but it hurt to hear. Still, I kept my head up high. “I agree. It’s basketball and hockey season. I can’t do the nightly reporting on them. I don’t know enough.”
A sigh filled my ear. “It’s got nothin’ to do with your ability. You’re just too green. Bryan Held was always my fill-in, and he’s agreed to handle it until I can return. But you’re still working here. I got stuff you need to do, an’—”
“Louie,” I interrupted. “I get it.” To hell with it.
The worst that could happen was Louie would laugh at me and say no way.
“But I’ve got an idea I wanted to run past you.
” I outlined what Rip and I had spoken about the previous night, then wiped the sweat off my brow, waiting for Louie’s response.
“You know what? I kinda like it. It’s like nothin’ else on the air right now. And we got that Sunday spot after the news where they’ve been doin’ lifestyle shows, but the ratings are crap. I think this’ll fly. You think you can get the star power? Besides your friend Rip.”
I didn’t miss the subtle emphasis on the word friend but chose to ignore it. “Yeah, I do. Active and retired players. I’m sure Neil can help, and Rip said he knows baseball and football players he can call to ask if they want to be on.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Louie murmured. “You talk to Rob about it?”
“N-no. I wanted to run it past you first. See if you thought it was a good idea and if you minded me asking him.”
“Kid,” Louie said gently. “You’re not gonna get ahead in this industry if you’re always worried about how what you do affects someone else. Even me.”
“I respect you, and I don’t want to seem like I’m stepping on your toes.”
“Go for it. I’ll put in a good word too. But lemme ask. Do you think it’s gonna help get you that news spot?”
I tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. “It might. First sports, then maybe politics. Interviewing people is a good way to get my foot in the door and become comfortable with the camera.”
“Yeah. So is dating a superstar. Just sayin’.” He cackled, and my face burned.
“Stop, please. I told you, it’s not like that between Rip and me.”
“Mmm. Okay, I gotta go. My doctors are here.”
“Bye. And thanks.”
The phone went dead, and I sat staring at the desk, shoring up courage. “You’re being stupid,” I muttered to myself. “Just do it. The worst he can do is say no, and you’ll keep doing the scut shit until something else comes along where you can prove yourself.”
First I had emails to answer, but someone knocked on my door.
“Come in,” I called out.
“Hi, Adrian. I’m Bryan Held. Don’t think we’ve met yet.” A tall, thin man, Bryan held out his hand with a friendly enough expression.
“Oh, yeah, hi. I spoke with Louie, and he said you were replacing him while he recuperated.”
“Yeah. Tough break, but hopefully he’ll be back soon.
Rob mentioned Louie was planning some interviews with the Hoops after they finished playing the DC Dunks.
Amazing that we finally have a few New York teams in playoff contention at the same time, plus the Kings football team that just won the Super Bowl. Makes for a busy schedule.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Who was I kidding? I barely knew that the Kings were a football team and had never watched a single basketball game in my life. “I’ll get some film from production and send everything to your email.”
“Perfect. Can you also make some phone calls for me? I need to check and make sure I’ve got my media passes set up for when I need them. Here are the numbers.”
I forced my lips upwards. “No problem.”
“Great, great. Thanks, buddy. Talk to you later.”
Buddy? Who the hell spoke like that? I chewed my lip and got to work, and it was early afternoon before I could find a slice of time to check my messages. Rip had texted me at lunch.
Did you speak to your boss? What did he say?
Haven’t had time, but Louie thought it was a good idea.
Told ya, Rip responded, adding a winky emoji.
Gathering my courage, I left my seat. Rob’s office was at the end of the hall, with large windows overlooking Midtown. As I approached, his secretary, Rosalind, gave me a friendly smile.
“Hey, Adrian. What can I do for you?”
“Is he available?” At her frown, I rushed ahead. “It’ll only take a few minutes if he’s got something else.”
“Hold on.” She peered at her screen. “He’s got a meeting with the news team in about ten minutes.”
“More than enough time.”
I must’ve either sounded pathetic, eager, or both because she nodded. “Let me buzz him.” She spoke low into her phone, but tipped her head toward his closed door. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” I took half a second to brace myself, then turned the knob, opened the door, and entered. “Hi, Rob. Thanks for seeing me.”
“I was wondering when you were going to come.”
My brows knitted. “I’m sorry?”
“Sit.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Louie called me.”
Of course he did. Just once I’d like to think people believed I could do something on my own. “Oh. So you already know what I’m here for. What do you think?”
One thing about Rob DeVine—he was a master of the neutral face. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Since it’s your proposal, you should tell me what it is you want.”
That was fair, and I appreciated Rob wanting me to present the idea.
I repeated what I told Louie, adding how the interviews could delve beyond sports, into the athletes’ personal lives, charity projects they’re involved with, and what they hoped to accomplish after they no longer played professionally.
“To sum up, everyone talks about the game, but I think fans would like to know the players on a deeper level. Maybe even find something relatable about them.”
“And you think you’re the person to do this? Why? You’ve never had your own show, and let’s face it, your first performance wasn’t stellar.”
Rob had no problem laying the truth down. Inside I might be cringing from embarrassment and fear, but I’d never allow anyone to know. Not anymore. Maybe I was finally learning.
“It’s because I was unprepared. But so you know, Rip asked me to come sit in the players’ box for the Blades’ next home game. That, coupled with an exclusive interview with him and Sebastian Crowe, will prove I’m more than capable.”
“Did he now?” A crafty gleam lit Rob’s eyes.
I drew my shoulders back. “We’re friends. It’s natural for him to want to help me.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He steepled his fingers together, and I held my breath.
“I actually think it’s a good idea. Depending on the guests you get, it could really work.
But”—he put a hand up as a smile broke across my face—“first, you must get more comfortable being on camera. I’ll hold off saying anything definite until I see how you do with your interviews at the game. ”
“Thanks. Thanks so much. But the Blades’ game? I thought about doing it more casually. I wasn’t going to go with a crew.”
Rob grinned. “You are now.”