Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“What’s going on?” Rip came up behind me, and I explained what Rob had said. “He’s right. You want to be a reporter, Adrian. This is as real a news story as it gets. Just pretend you’re telling it to me.”
I recalled Louie’s story of how he was supposed to be interviewing soccer stars the morning the towers were hit. Time for me to get my story.
Gerrard, who’d worked with me on Playing the Field, waved. “Ready, Adrian?” He tossed me a headset and a microphone. It felt heavy but natural.
“News on the fly.” I put it on and adjusted the earpiece. “Ready.”
He got behind his camera and held up a finger, and then the light came on and I waited for Bryan’s cue.
“We’ve got Adrian Hunt on the scene at Blades Arena, with a live report. Adrian, what can you tell us?”
“Thanks, Bryan. After a triumphant and thrilling Stanley Cup win by the Blades, disaster struck as the railing of the upper deck collapsed, sending metal and chunks of concrete tumbling to the level beneath it. Several people were injured, but I was personally assured by the Chief Battalion Officer that no one was in critical condition. First responders were on the scene immediately to transport people to Mercy Hospital.” My earpiece hummed before Bryan spoke.
“Can you tell us about the atmosphere in the arena now, Adrian? How is everyone doing?”
I thought for a moment. “People are tense and worried about friends and loved ones, but there’s also that New York spirit of coming together in an emergency. Everyone’s helping each other.”
“Of course. We saw video of you assisting first responders, as well as many Blades and Bears players assisting with the rescue efforts.”
“We all want to help. It’s times like these that make people realize that winning is about more than playing a game. To win at life, we need to come together and help each other.”
“Very wise words.”
I held out my hand, and Rip took it, coming into the camera view.
“I have Rip Tremaine, the Blades captain, here with me. I figured we should snag him to say a few words about winning the Stanley Cup—his first.” I held the microphone to him.
“How does it feel to finally bring the Stanley Cup to New York?”
Rip’s grin lit up his face, and his absolute joy made my heart turn over.
“It’s like nothing I can express in words.
All my life I’ve dreamed of this moment, and now that it’s here, I’m just so incredibly grateful.
” His face turned somber. “The Blades organization is coordinating with the FDNY and NYPD to make sure the injured are taken care of. Our main concern right now is to get everyone the help they need.”
“Thank you and congratulations to you and the entire Blades team. To our viewers, let me repeat, the injured are being transported to Mercy Hospital. If you need to check on a family member or friend, the Blades have set up an emergency number.” I recited it.
“Thanks, Adrian, we also have that number up on the screen. Great job tonight. We saw how you helped the injured people in the stands when no one was certain of the stability of the area, putting your own life at risk. Channel 8 is very proud of you.”
I gave a wave. “Just doing what’s right. This is Adrian Hunt from Channel 8 Sports.”
Gerrard gave me the thumbs-up, and I handed him the headset and microphone. “Great job, Adrian. I’ll get to the station.” He paused. “Congratulations, Rip. Fantastic season.”
Rip shook his hand. “Thanks, man.”
The Jumbotron flashed the colors of the Blades—blue and gold—and then the announcer came on: “Congratulations to the Stanley Cup champions, the Brooklyn Blades.”
A cheer rose from the people who’d remained in the stands, and they began to clap and chant, “Blades, Blades, Blades.”
Rip held me close, and I kissed him.
“I’m so proud and happy for you, Rip. It was such an incredible game. My heart was in my throat at the end.”
Joy spread across his face. “Is it wrong for me to feel so happy even though such a terrible thing happened?”
“Not at all. You heard the announcement. No one is going to die. You’re entitled to celebrate.”
Seb reappeared with Jolie at his side, holding both his little girls. They clung to his neck, and his joy matched Rip’s. “There he is. How’s it going, Adrian?”
“I’m good. Congratulations. It was an amazing game.”
Denis approached and didn’t stop to talk to Rip or Seb, coming directly to me. “Adrian. I’m very glad you’re here so I can speak to you. I acted so foolishly when we met previously. Je suis désolé.” He held out a hand. “Please forgive me.”
It was a day filled with surprises, and when I met Rip’s eyes, they were soft, and for the first time, filled with peace. “Of course. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a winner as well.” I put my arm around Rip’s waist. “I’ve got Rip.”
Denis’s face fell, although he tried to smile. “Yes, you are. Rip is a great guy.”
“The best,” I answered and leaned into Rip’s chest. Smelly and dirty as he was, I wanted to sink into him and never let go. This night might be the culmination of Rip’s dream, but it was for me as well.
Shoulders hunched and head bent, Denis walked away.
“Funny enough, I feel sorry for him,” I mused, and Rip kissed my neck.
“That’s because you’re a very nice guy.”
“Nice only goes so far because if he ever tried to come between us, Bad Boy Adrian might have to get activated.” As heartfelt as Denis’ apology was, I didn’t trust him. He’d shown himself to be the type of person who’d say and do anything to get what he wanted.
A spark lit the golden flecks in Rip’s eyes. “Bad Boy Adrian, hmm? I like the sound of that.”
I took his hand. “Let’s go home, and I’ll show you.”
**
We barely made it to the bedroom. I pulled off his clothes, then mine. I held Rip close and kissed him, leaving him gasping for air.
“What’s gotten into you?”
I licked the head of his dick. “I’ve never made love to a Stanley Cup champion.” I swiped my tongue over it again, then nuzzled into his thigh. “I’m so proud of you.”
He played with my hair. “This is the best night of my life. I have you and the Cup. Nothing could ever top this.”
I arched a brow and grinned. “Is that a challenge?” I grabbed the lube and poured it on his thick shaft. “Tonight there’s going to be nothing between you and me.”
We locked gazes as I held on to his shoulders, and inch by delicious bare inch, sank onto his cock until he filled me so completely, I couldn’t catch my breath.
Naked skin to naked skin, I clasped him tight within me, wishing this moment could go on forever.
Together, we were the forces of life. Fire and water. Air and earth. I couldn’t let him go.
“Rip. God, Rip,” I moaned, his fingers digging into my hips.
I moved on top of him, pleasure chasing the pain, and gasped after he rolled me underneath him and lifted my legs to my chest. The hard thrust of his cock left me aching with a desire that transcended any emotion prior to this moment.
I grasped my shaft, and the mere touch to my sensitive skin sent me flying.
Rip held me as I shook, then swelled inside me and came with a harsh cry, filling me with heat.
“I love you,” he whispered in my ear, and I rubbed my cheek to his.
“I love you too.”
He slipped out of me, but neither of us had the strength or will to move, so we lay together, tangled in an embrace. My eyes fluttered shut.
**
The next morning as I walked into the office, every person I met stopped to congratulate me both on my helping with the rescue efforts and my on-the-spot reporting. I finally had a moment to myself in my office, when the phone rang.
“Adrian Hunt. Sports Desk.”
“I think after last night, that might change, kiddo.”
Happiness settled in my chest. “Louie. How are you?”
“Not as good as you, I’m thinkin’. Great work. Really great.”
“Thanks a lot. It sure wasn’t how I expected to spend my night. But I’m just glad there weren’t more people seriously injured.”
“Listen. On 9/11, I never thought I’d be interviewing survivors of the World Trade Center Towers, but someone else had a plan for me. We find ourselves in a position we never dreamed possible, but it’s how we handle what’s thrown at us that proves our mettle. You proved yourself last night.”
My throat grew tight. “Thanks, but I did what anyone else would’ve.”
“I didn’t see no one else climbing over the broken concrete to help people. Only you.”
My other line buzzed, and Rob’s number flashed on the screen. “Louie, I gotta go. Rob’s calling. I have a meeting with him.”
“I bet you do. Call me later.”
“I will,” I promised and hit the button. “Rob?”
“I’m ready for you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I already figured he was going to thank me for stepping up and doing the live feed from the game. When I entered his office, he was standing in front of his desk with a big smile.
“There he is. Channel 8’s hero reporter.”
He shook my hand, but I cocked my head. “Reporter?”
“Adrian, last night you showed incredible poise and the ability to think on your feet. Your instinct to dive right into a chaotic situation, handling it seamlessly, proved you possess the skills required of a news reporter. So effective today, we’d like for you to move to the news division.
Working as an intern in the sports division would be a waste for both you and us. ”
My heart pounded. “Oh, wow, th-that’s amazing. Thank you. I’d love to.”
“Great. We’re assigning you to the political division. You’ll get a press pass and whatever else you need. You’ll be working with Sterling Forest on the evening news. He was very pleased to hear it.”
Goose bumps prickled over my skin. “Sterling Forest?” I repeated.
He was the anchor and new face of Channel 8 News.
I had very little to do with him—he’d come from Los Angeles and kept to himself, coming into the studio only to do the news, leaving immediately after.
On the rare occasions we’d cross paths, he’d nod and give me a quick hello.
“Yes. We’ve briefed him, and he thinks you’ll be a good addition to the team.
I told him and the rest of the political staff to expect you around eleven.
” He sat behind his desk, effectively dismissing me.
I turned to go, then remembered something.
“What about my show? I did like the idea of Playing the Field and hate to give it up when it had barely begun.”
“You can still do it. Maybe now you can bring in other people besides athletes.”
“Really?” Damn, I didn’t want to sound like an eager kid, but this was a great opportunity.
“Welcome to the big leagues. Now, get to work.”
“I will. Thanks, Rob.”
He picked up his ringing phone, and I returned to my office, anxious to tell Rip everything that had happened. I took out my phone, prepared to call him, when a text popped up.
I’m at the hospital. My father was at the game last night and was one of the people injured. He’s in a coma.